Down on your marrow-bones, sirrah! Confess your guilt, and Sir Rowland may yet save you from the gallows. ” He recognized the force, almost the passion, which trembled in her tone, and he at once abandoned the subject. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Suddenly, such a shout as has seldom smitten human ears rent the air.
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