At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. Melusine did not attempt to speak. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. . I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down 458 XXXI. Manning’s letter.
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