The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. You speak as one injured—as though I had been the one to take your name—as though you had been the one to make sacrifices. " "Oh! of course," rejoined Mrs. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired.
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