In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. I won’t try. Stanley, to which the two ladies subordinated themselves intelligently.
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