“Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock. Sir John waved her back. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. ‘Now then, girl. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. I had not seen the courtyard in many years and I was happy to dream of those times. The chapel was crowded to excess. "Hands off!" she exclaimed, "or you'll repent it.
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