With great difficulty, Wood forced a path through the ruins. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions. “You need a reason. “You see,” he said, “it is doubtful if we can ever marry. Earles said, “but this is rubbish. She was not quite clear how she should find it, but she felt she would. ’ A hand seemed to grip in Melusine’s chest and she hit out. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him.
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