’ Gerald dropped down to join her just as her hand came up, clutching the handle. " "Suppose he brings Blueskin, or some other ruffian with him," hesitated the jailer. "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. ‘Come, cry a truce. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. That for you!" And she snapped her fingers in his face.
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