’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. "Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. Annabel, I cannot believe it. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances.
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