" "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness.
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