The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew. "Brother," cried Lady Trafford, her eye blazing with unnatural light, and her cheek suffused with a crimson stain: "Brother," she cried, lifting her thin fingers towards Heaven, "as God shall judge me, I was wedded to that murdered man!" "A lie!" ejaculated Sir Rowland, furiously; "a black, and damning lie!" "It is the truth," replied his sister, falling backwards upon the couch.
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