Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. 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. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. "I will swear it upon the cross!" "His name, then?" demanded the knight.
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