" At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. 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. But here she met with a check. Sheppard, horror-stricken. I saw him yesterday, and he told me he shouldn't stir from home for a week to come. If Mr.
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