To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. CHAPTER XVI. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. Her pa was only the smithy. But, when I look upon his innocent face, and see how like he is to his father,—when I think of that father's shameful ending, and recollect how free from guilt he once was,—at such times, Mr. A scene now ensued, highly characteristic of the age, and the occasion.
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