"Troth, and so did you," returned the watchman; "but I couldn't belave it. Soon I shall make my début, that it will be known that I am the real Melusine Charvill, and then I shall not require the services any longer of this imbecile of a Gérard. Did he track her? She was unaware if he did. She began to read, and presently she entered another world, and remained in it for two hours. . You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. “She must go her own way.
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