He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. "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. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. She seemed to grow more beautiful to him and not the opposite. She did not twitch.
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