Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. Until she had left her island, what she heard and what she saw were truths. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. He’s a footman who works for the nuns and has taken up the cudgels on her behalf. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. "Gracious Heaven!" exclaimed the knight, upon whom a light seemed suddenly to break.
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