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'—'Oh! yes we are,' says he. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. "Not so," replied Jack, throwing down the skreen. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. I know you. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock.
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