He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. ‘Why have you come in here?’ demanded Melusine, turning on him. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. This won’t do. The future was not so black. Lucy stepped inside. Firmly built, as it was, the bridge creaked in such a manner with their contending efforts, that Abraham durst not venture beyond the door, where he stood, holding the light, a horrified spectator of the scene. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead.
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