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"My mother is so cruel," said Isabella in a low tone, "and I feel so ill," she continued, raising her hand to her loose hair. "Yes, yes; I must go home. But Maurice--my dear Maurice." "I don't know--I can't say!" interrupted his master, impatiently. "Go and get the men to bring down a stretcher for the body, and send the groom for Dr. Etwald." "I'm in a regular nest of female detectives," he retaliated gayly. "Between you and Judy I shan't have a single secret left at the end of the month. I'll have to watch myself like thunder, Miss Jinny, or they'll make a miserable hen-pecked man of me!".

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"Well, the old fury sees what you want, my dear lad, and so she is determined that Isabella shall marry David and not you. To accomplish her aims she went through some hocus-pocus of devilry, or fortune-telling, or incantation, and discovered that if Isabella marries you, Mrs. Dallas will die." "I understand. He said, poor lad, that I would approve of his reasons when I knew them, and now that you have explained his motives I quite agree with his saying. To protect that poor girl, to save you from suffering for a crime which you did not commit, he could have acted in no other fashion. Still, I wish both of you had been more open with me." "Ever since that handkerchief has been removed sir," said she, earnestly, "Jaggard has got well. I do believe, sir, that the scent on it kept the poor dear stupid." "To shield the assassin?" gasped Jen, thunderstruck. "And who is the assassin?".