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Montressor’s guests were. “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. org. We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. You ought to know that. " "Heaven have compassion on you, Rowland!" murmured his sister, crossing her hands and looking upwards; "you have none on me. "Nothing!" echoed the other, scornfully.
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