She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. She was making it up. Had you died, I should have fully obeyed the instructions on that envelope. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy.
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