She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. “Forgive me,” he said. She laughed altogether in her old manner. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. 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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