"I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal. “It is against my husband’s orders, and I am not sure that my sister will be particularly glad to see me. "Of course, therefore," pursued Jonathan, "you are acquainted with all the leaders of the proposed insurrection,—nay, must be in correspondence with them. And, mind, it's for his sister, Lady Trafford. She donned her gloves. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that.
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