‘Do not tell me he has escaped. "Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup. "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. “John,” she declared, “I must eat or die. Above her head was an aura of white fire. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation.
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