Ann Veronica was excited and puzzled, with a sense of a strange and disconcerting new light breaking over her relations with Ramage. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. Those lives removed,—and Sir Rowland is completely in his power, the estates would be yours—HIS! if he were your husband. Shoving between them, she confronted the captain herself. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy.
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