The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. It was a unique experience for her to wash him. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. Rollo barked. Very romantic and all that. Melusine sighed with relief and set to work by the light of the lantern. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him.
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