—'How so?' says I. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. There were shadows under his eyes. The less she lived, in fact, the better. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. He was officially in the nun’s employ, but Melusine had commandeered his services immediately on the discovery that he had conceived a passion for her. The young man had knocked over the siphon. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain.
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