Mr. Maggot. "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. "Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. .
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