The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. "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. ” “Then you had better ring the bell,” she declared, laughing. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. Mr. " So saying, he unbuckled the belt to which the janizary's hanger was attached, and fastened it to his own girdle.
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