Kneebone, who was on the point of departing. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. Forgive me if a certain warmth creeps into my words! The Park is green and gray to-day, but I am glowing pink and gold. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. She fled.
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