"Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. Annabel was in hiding all the time. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp.
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