Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. Wood. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend. ’ ‘It is you who is absurd,’ countered Melusine, the spark returning to her eye. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. ” “But how? It has only been a few days!” “She’s not even here. With the usual precautions, Austin then departed.
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