There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped.
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