"She wouldn't let me go. ’ Melusine could not suppress a smile. The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. You shall know the truth. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. "I guessed from your dress and manner, Sir, that you must have been long absent from your own country," said Kneebone; "and now I'm convinced of it, or you wouldn't have asked that question. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own.
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