I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. He embraced her like her father once had. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. They had been married for well over one hundred years. "I know not—and care not," replied Jack. "Has any one been here?" he asked. Later in the evening she heard him whistling, poor man! She felt very restless and excited. ’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. ’ Melusine could not suppress a smile.
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