“MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. "I beg your pardon!… A bit rocky this morning…. His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. "Evidently he could not destroy these children of his.
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