‘Would you like me to enquire for your mystery lady, Gerald? I know the Comte and Comtesse de St Erme quite well. . So, you see—’ ‘Do not say any more,’ Melusine uttered, flinging away and moving to the fireplace. We leave England to-night. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. He resumed his listening. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. ’ He turned to the goggling footman and thrust him towards the coach. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. Then, even as they stood there, the room was plunged into darkness. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves.
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