‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. “They’d better not,” said Hetty. “Please call me Carol. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. All the talk in the world would not describe Ruth. ‘You’re as mad as she is, Gerald. Hold the chopper away from you, like this. “She”, you say.
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