By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. John’s parents were won over. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. Mr. He cherished her. “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. Part 2 When at last she did so, the sapphire ring took on a new quality in the imagination of Capes.
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