‘Never fear, my love. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. Still, they bob up occasionally. It would be the culmination of her plan. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. But her husband, whose deportment to her was considerably changed since the fatal knot had been tied, paid no attention whatever to her grief.
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