"Brother," cried Lady Trafford, her eye blazing with unnatural light, and her cheek suffused with a crimson stain: "Brother," she cried, lifting her thin fingers towards Heaven, "as God shall judge me, I was wedded to that murdered man!" "A lie!" ejaculated Sir Rowland, furiously; "a black, and damning lie!" "It is the truth," replied his sister, falling backwards upon the couch. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. As to Jack Sheppard, he appeared utterly reckless and insensible, and did nothing but whistle and sing the whole way. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly.
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