“I say, Vee. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. I require nothing, you see, till my share of the contract is fulfilled. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father.
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