CHAPTER XXIII. You complain of a condition, but you leave the correction to someone else. "Heaven be praised she knows me at last. ’ Both hands about the butt of her unwieldy pistol, Melusine glared at him. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. ‘What’s wrong, miss? Ain’t I done right?’ Melusine’s mind was reeling, but she reached out and seized his wrist. “I drink your very good health, Sir John and Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “and I wish you a pleasant journey back to England. What does he do these three days?’ She had come daily to the vestry, hoping to meet the lad and hear his report. And so is your companion,—the convict Sheppard.
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