" "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault. But he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor.
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