"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. "Beg pardon," he said, "but isn't smoking allowed in the dining room?" "It probably is," answered Prudence, "but that in no wise mitigates the odiousness of the procedure. "Do you know anything further of Sir Rowland?" he asked. Sheppard.
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