She twanged the catgut under her fingers. ToC During the whole of the next day and night, the poor widow hovered like a ghost about the precincts of the debtors' garrison,—for admission (by the Master's express orders,) was denied her. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. " "Shall I tell you a real story?" "Something you have seen?" "Yes. You've got me interested and curious. You’re a little late, you must remember, and we are punctual people here. This was good. 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. .
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