CHAPTER VIII. "And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?" remarked Hogarth. You have to see her to understand. "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. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. Now what? There was an interest, or why ask him who they were. In the interim, Jack advanced to the woollen-draper, and regarding him sternly, thus addressed him: "You have violated the laws of hospitality, Mr.
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