"Brother," cried Lady Trafford, her eye blazing with unnatural light, and her cheek suffused with a crimson stain: "Brother," she cried, lifting her thin fingers towards Heaven, "as God shall judge me, I was wedded to that murdered man!" "A lie!" ejaculated Sir Rowland, furiously; "a black, and damning lie!" "It is the truth," replied his sister, falling backwards upon the couch. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. He waved an arm and spoke with a peculiar resonance. ‘Which is why I feel sure he will utterly repulse the girl, even if she is his granddaughter.
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