May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. 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. His looks were fixed on his old benefactor. But what if she were to marry? He glanced towards the elderly dame and found her watching him, the dimple very much in evidence.
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