Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. ” For some seconds he had remained quite still. “Turned out to be an impostor, too. "Sir Cecil is no more. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart.
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