She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look as long as I live. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. I wouldn't touch the stuff for all the pearls in India. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order.
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