” “It certainly was,” she admitted. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. . . The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. That’s what I mean. “A lady, Dunster. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband.
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