“What is the exact force of a motif?” she asked at random. "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. But I will not believe you. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully. 2.
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