Melusine, intent upon preventing Gosse from securing the fallen weapon, paid no attention. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. “Will you say what you have to say, please, and go. Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion.
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