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. Leave the room! leave the house, Sir! and enter it again at your peril. But she did not speak. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. I am certainly no ghost.
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