Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. "Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers.
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