As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. "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. " "If you stir, I'll call him!" rejoined Winifred. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur. Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably. You intrigue me. My will never faltered.
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