What am I to do?
I do not believe.

It is living truth to you; to me, upon my conscience, only folk-lore.

I do not believe there is any form of words under heaven by which I can lift the burthen from my shoulders.

I must stagger on to the end with the pack of my responsibility; I cannot shift it; do you suppose I would not, if I thought I could?
I cannot--cannot--cannot--and let that suffice.' The rapture was all gone from Artwater's countenance; the dark apostle had disappeared; and in his place there stood an easy, sneering gentleman, who took off his hat and bowed.

It was pertly done, and the blood burned in Herrick's face.
'What do you mean by that ?' he cried.
'Well, shall we go back to the house ?' said Attwater.