"I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. "Is she returned!" "Y—e—s, Sir Rowland," stammered Charcam. ‘Do you think I am afraid of a sword in the hand of a slip of a girl?’ For answer, Melusine lunged at him. So good an opportunity may never occur again. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Pure romantic nonsense on her part. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence.
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