"Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. 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. Jonathan, though a very powerful man, was like an infant in his gripe.
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