. . She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. It was never intended that I should marry Monsieur Valade, but after the tragedy—’ her eyes darkening in genuine distress ‘—and that he was the only survivor, he came to me in the convent and married me, and brought me to England. I wanted you to know. I think not, Annabel. Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures.
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