” “You love—Anna?” she exclaimed. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart. Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened.
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