Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. “You will be so good as to leave us your correct name and address, mademoiselle,” he said curtly. 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.
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