“Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. 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. At any rate, he began to deliberately personate him. Wood, contemptuously, "he'll never mend till he comes to Tyburn. It is putting all my dreams out of joint. .
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