What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. Jackson, gallantly. “Fancy stabbing a man for jealousy!” she thought. "Tell me that, and I will believe you.
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