I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. "Humph!" exclaimed Jonathan, doubtfully. ‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. Sheppard—becomes entitled to the estates; which eventually—provided he escaped the gallows—would descend to her son. . ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff.
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