"Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent. “Let me help you,” he begged. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this. Spurling, "I hope he may never see Tyburn. ” He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever. Go out there and head him off, will you? Tell him anything you like, but don’t let him in, and don’t tell him Melusine is here. This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination. Some of them are now buried at the bottom of the Thames. The Jacobite.
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