She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. Tell me exactly what has happened. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. Melusine jumped up, turning swiftly. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days.
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