The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. They then swiftly mounted the stairs, and stopped before the audience-chamber. Something softened in Melusine’s chest. "You cannot understand me, Madam; and it is well you cannot. I came to the Beck’s house. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. You are nothing of the sort.
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