You have spoken her name, I think, Marthe. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. Next moment, he had Melusine by the arm. ‘It is seldom enough I am visited by anyone at all, let alone a personable young redcoat. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall.
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