The cause of this uproar was soon manifest. "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. ’ Your name alone would fill any music hall in London. ‘Possibly,’ he said. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. So he marched into the street, primarily bent upon making the favourable discovery. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead.
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