Stanley almost liked Ramage. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. "Take her," cried Jonathan; and, flinging the now inanimate body of the poor widow, who had fainted in the struggle, into the arms of Thames, he leapt through the window, and by the time the latter could consign her to Wood, and dart after him, he had disappeared. Previously to his descent he had left the nail and spike on the wall, and with these he fastened the blanket to the stone coping. 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.
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