She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. At the precise period of this history, the Jacobite party was full of hope and confidence. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and girlish. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her.
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