At the same time she was wildly exultant at the resolution she had taken, the end she had made to her blunder. The Protestant Flagellant, who whipped his soul rather than his body, who made self-denial the rack and the boot, who believed that on Sunday it was sacrilegious to smile, blasphemous to laugh! Spurlock had gone back spiritually three hundred years. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. She was fatigued physically and mentally, and neither mind nor body could rest. Oh! thank you—thank you! I'm so happy!" "Stop, Winny!" he answered, gravely; "I haven't promised yet. " Mr. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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