The party, then, sat down to a bowl of punch; and, at its conclusion, Captain Kneebone regretted that an engagement to spend the evening with Mrs. ’ ‘Do not hope it,’ returned Melusine, snapping uncontrollably. “I should love to come. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. As you know my seed is infertile with all women, they are no more than cattle, but it was not so with my Rhea. What do you think, Annabel?” “I don’t think they would,” she admitted. It was painted in the early seventeenth century by a minor artist named DuPre.
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