The stain upon our family is only half effaced: I have sworn the death of the villain and his bastard, and I will keep my oath. "But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. Practically. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. She was quite unconcerned. “I have nothing to say to you. “Now she’s all hat and ideas,” he said, with an air of humor.
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