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 "I can never ask, or expect you to forgive her," he said, in a low broken voice. "Your generous forbearance has been fully appreciated by me. I number it amongst the heaviest of my calamities, that I can only greet you on your return with my sincere condolements. Alas! I gave you as an inheritage a bitter portion. You are at liberty to resent as a man, a conduct, which not even a father can expect, or ask you to forgive." Lord Avondale turned abruptly from the duke: "Are my horses put to the carriage?" he said impatiently to a servant. "All is in readiness." "You will not go?" "I must: my uncle waits for me at the inn at Belfont: he would scarcely permit me"

The shrieks of women from an adjoining apartment interrupted Lord Avondale. The duke hastened to the spot. Lord Avondale reluctantly followed. "Lady Avondale is dead," said one: "the barbarian has murdered her."—*