"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. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. “Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. ’ ‘Ah, no?’ She saw his guard relax and lunged again. . Still, I suppose Melusine can always sell the house. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. ’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently.
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