There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. He thought her only an orphan in search of her English relatives. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. It is positively hateful to think of it. Down on your marrow-bones, sirrah! Confess your guilt, and Sir Rowland may yet save you from the gallows.
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