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She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. 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. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. It’s a thing that’s happened to you. “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. "You've ruined my hopes.
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