"Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. When Capes glanced up at them for a moment, Manning seemed to be holding his arms all about her, and there was nothing but quiet acquiescence in her bearing. Then her eyes flashed. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. Has he given you the tools?" "He has," replied Bess, producing the handkerchief. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. My name is Annabel, not Anna.
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