Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. “You’ll do no such thing, Sheila. You do not love your husband, you have married him for a position —to escape from—things which you feared. It has been purchased by blood!" "What! have you cut old Wood's throat?" asked Wild, with great unconcern, as he took up the bag. " "I, Sir!—I swear——" "Tush!" interrupted Jonathan, harshly. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds.
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