The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. She felt the softest touch caress her cheek, and a wave of tenderness engulfed Melusine. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. And he had good reason before long to congratulate himself on his forbearance. "Have you got Jonathan out of the way?" he asked, in an eager whisper. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. Anna looked at her, startled.
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