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VII.
A TROTH FOR ETERNITY.
—So, Woman! I possess you. Yes, at length.
Once wholly and for ever you are mine!
That cursèd burden on my memory,
Your whole past life's betrayal—let it go:
Ay, let it perish, and, for me at least,
Let life begin this moment, though we die
But three hours hence!
Is this your little voice
My Love, enthralling, winning my whole faith
With mere increasing sweetness in its tones,
Dissolving, exorcising, as it used,
