” She shook her head gently. The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. ” “Severely dampened? By what?” “By hope. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. But Jack did not heed them. This gloom was impossible. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt.
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