“Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement.
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