He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it. "I have saved the executioner a labour, by cutting his throat," replied Blueskin. “But I have forbidden it!” he said, raising his voice. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair.
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