"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. Acknowledge your faults. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks.
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