He will be at your mercy.

I entreat you to spare his life!" I hesitated.

"Never!" I cried passionately; "he has insulted a Denville!" "Terence," she whispered, "Terence--FOR MY SAKE ?" The blood rushed to my cheeks, and her eyes sought the ground in bashful confusion.
"You love him then ?" I cried, bitterly.
"No, no," she said, agitatedly, "no, you do me wrong.

I--I--cannot explain myself.

My father!--the Lady Dowager Sackville--the estate of Sackville--the borough--my uncle, Fitzroy Somerset.