‘Lay him down on a sofa,’ Melusine said, coming out behind them and moving towards the antechamber. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. She was at the end of girlhood and on the eve of a woman’s crowning experience. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society.
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