" "I remember now!" interrupted McClintock. ’ ‘Melusine,’ repeated the old lady. ‘Then it must certainly be Eugénie. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. His feet would have the firm texture of his hands. She's fine. Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood.
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