"My father!" she whispered. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night. "Help!—help, Mr. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. ’ ‘But—’ ‘You’ll get her all over blood again. They had not to tarry long. Since Jack has left us, what does it matter whether he's pleased or not?" At this moment, a whistle was heard. And then amusement crept into Alderley’s chest and he let his pistol hand fall. His arms slipped around her waist as they were on the doorstep and he kissed her lips sweetly.
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