"I did see them on the platform of the bridge—the child and his preserver! They were not struck by the fallen ruin, nor whelmed in the roaring flood,—or, if they were, they escaped as I escaped. Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. ’ Melusine gasped. ” “It is an accident,” he answered. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. Manning loved her presented itself to her bloodlessly, stilled from any imaginative quiver or thrill of passion or disgust. No matter. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered.
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