" By this time, the chair had been brought into the Lodge. Let us be gone. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. If the boy had done anything wrong back there in the States, his would be the brand of conscience to pay him out in full. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself.
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