Upon a table, where they had been hastily deposited, on the intelligence of Darrell's accident, lay a pair of pink kid gloves, bordered with lace, and an enormous fan; the latter, when opened, represented the metamorphosis and death of Actæon. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. CHAPTER XXI. ’ ‘Melusine,’ shrieked the nun. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. “I expected to stay with a relation, but I found that their arrangements did not allow of it. It's as well to be on the safe side. The challenge gave her courage.
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