Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. He groaned, much to Melusine’s relief. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. “No. ’ ‘But what age are you? Do you not require an heir?’ Melusine asked, her tone shocked. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright.
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