"This young fool is come to restore the article—whatever it may be—which Lady Trafford was anxious to conceal, and which his companion purloined. Mr. Wood's," said the latter, "since I find him at his own gate. ’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. He can't be far off. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence.
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