The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. A world of haystacks, bean-stacks, and strawricks flanked the granges adjoining his habitation; the yard was crowded with poultry, pigeons were feeding at his feet, cattle were being driven towards the stall, horses led to the stable, a large mastiff was rattling his chain, and stalking majestically in front of his kennel, while a number of farming-men were passing and repassing about their various occupations. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. . She trembled; but she did not know why. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight.
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