"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. Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. I am a man—of a sort of experience. Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration. "Yes, your son, Madam. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair. “I had found her at last, and she shot me.
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