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. ‘If you love me, you will say it, or else I will blow off your head. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. A woman such as I am might help take care of Mr.
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