“Did you see who that was?” he asked in a low tone. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. "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 my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary.
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