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‘No, Melusine. ” He shook his head. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood. “My dear Anna,” he answered. Uttering a few inarticulate ejaculations,—for he was completely out of breath,— the fugitive placed a bundle in the arms of the carpenter, and, regardless of the consternation he excited in the breast of that personage, who was almost stupified with astonishment, he began to divest himself of a heavy horseman's cloak, which he threw over Wood's shoulder, and, drawing his sword, seemed to listen intently for the approach of his pursuers. He smiled inwardly. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. “I have had a trying evening and I need rest. The other lay unconscious in a heap. ‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good.
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