" Sir Rowland, meantime, throw himself on his knees beside his sister, and, clasping her chilly fingers within his own, besought her forgiveness in the most passionate terms. Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. " Jonathan made no reply, but ordered his myrmidons to drag the prisoner along. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour.
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