In the early hours of the morning, unable to bear the suspense any longer, Melusine had ventured to explore the mansion, the lantern she had brought in hand, commenting to herself all the time on the state of the place and the difficulties of her task, and having no idea of the consequences she was bringing on herself thereby. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. "What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child," rejoined Mrs. But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna’s ear. " "As you please, Sir," replied the tapstress, coolly. The papers are continually wondering what has become of ‘Alcide.
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