And when she took and married that Mr Charvill, we didn’t think to see her at Remenham House no more. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. As for the doctor, he found a pleasure in this service that would have puzzled him had he paused to analyse it. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. "The only disguise I ever put on is a dress-suit, and I look as natural as a pig at a Mahomedan dinner. She wondered abjectly whether he intended to rape her before she was dead. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed.
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