‘She may well try to go back. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. White gasped, and then stiffened. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. But Gosse began to drag her towards the door. ” He was a little uneasy. ” An immense gulf seemed to open between father and daughter as he said these words. Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere.
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