ToC The day appointed for the execution was now close at hand, and the prisoner, who seemed to have abandoned all hopes of escape, turned his thoughts entirely from worldly considerations. She was fine and tender. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. I'll try to think better of him in future.
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