But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged. "Brother," cried Lady Trafford, her eye blazing with unnatural light, and her cheek suffused with a crimson stain: "Brother," she cried, lifting her thin fingers towards Heaven, "as God shall judge me, I was wedded to that murdered man!" "A lie!" ejaculated Sir Rowland, furiously; "a black, and damning lie!" "It is the truth," replied his sister, falling backwards upon the couch. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. "I do," replied Kneebone.
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