If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go. Brendon was silent. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. So, not exactly hopefully but earnestly, she returned to the feet of God. Beyond was another door, on which was painted in black letters: MR. Suffer me to precede you.
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