Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators. She backed away from him. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. But the offences I have committed are venial in comparison with what I should commit were I to wed your father.
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