‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. CHAPTER XXVII. He was not particularly grateful for the present situation. ‘Her name is Melusine Charvill,’ Gerald began. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. He was placed in a coach, handcuffed, and heavily fettered, and guarded by a vast posse of officers to Temple Bar, where a fresh relay of constables escorted him to Westminster. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Coolly and gingerly, she kissed it as it stood at its hard angle from his body. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter.
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