She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. ‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. Sir John hesitated. And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham.
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