“My name is Anna Pellissier, sometimes called Annabel. If I might take the liberty, Sir John,” he added, with a humorous gleam in his eyes, “I should like to congratulate you upon your tie. Nor as I’ve to put up with a French spy in my parlour—’ ‘Peste, how you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently, barely taking in his complaints. 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. I am a little afraid. The carpenter threw himself flat upon the starling to avoid the fury of the wind. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. Annabel watched her with wide-open, terrified eyes.
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