Tell me, Sir," she added, with forced calmness, and grasping Wood's arm; "what has Jack done? Tell me in a word, that I may know the worst. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Sheppard, I'm sure, will say as much for you. She tended the twins while the Clotilde was in Sebastian’s private chambers, a place she gave a wide berth.
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