Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. "Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. It was in her eyes—the big thing that comes but once. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly. But I'll tell e'e what we might do——" The young man heard no more. ‘You wound me to the heart, Melusine.
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