His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. Sir Rowland then fell. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. . The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited.
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