I will try not to love him.

Oh, father, forgive me, forgive me.

I will never again deceive you so long as I live." Truly the fate of an overoath is that it shall be broken.

When one swears to do too much, one performs too little.
I helped Sir George rise to his feet.
Dorothy, full of tenderness and in tears, tried to take his hand, but he repulsed her rudely, and uttering terrible oaths coupled with her name quitted the room with tottering steps.
When her father had gone Dorothy stood in revery for a little time, and then looking toward the door through which her father had just passed, she spoke as if to herself: "He does not know.

How fortunate!" "But you said you would tell him," I suggested.