"Fifty now and fifty when I return. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. 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. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. The reward is mine. “I am going to fetch some things that will be wanted if he pulls through the next hour. And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever.
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