But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. ‘Because,’ said Lady Bicknacre in the confidential manner of all matrons when passing on a tidbit of scandal, ‘Nicholas married against his father’s wishes and ran away. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. I wonder whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall,” he went on, with a sudden glance at her, “if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion and colouring are altogether different. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. ‘Long enough for you to see Frith for me. And in this fact lay his danger.
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