"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. ’ Lucilla burst into laughter and clapped her hands. I could not have committed this robbery. Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. I don’t know. “Very likely,” he answered.
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