“Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. Michelle shrugged her off. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. 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. “Which one?” “The one whose life you have been making a burden, who has been all the time shielding her sister. ” “Sorry. ” “I can assure you,” he answered, “that it isn’t a habit of mine.
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