She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. “For great passions, for great accomplishments. She got up, as she had been told to do, at his appearance, and he amazed her by sitting down, according to custom, on her stool. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. "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.
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