“Anna,” he cried eagerly. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully. It has all been a mistake. She listened, her suspicions confirmed. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. Each wing had a small cupola; and, in the centre of the pile rose a larger dome, surmounted by a gilded ball and vane. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered.
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