Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucy asked. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. .
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