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. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. "I will swear it upon the cross!" "His name, then?" demanded the knight. “Yeah, I’ve heard that story.
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