"It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. I could make away with him at once, as you are about to make away with your nephew, Sir Rowland,—but that wouldn't serve my turn. She was watching him intently. "I cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears; "indeed, indeed, I cannot. He advanced a step towards her. ” With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea.
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