She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Was she so bad a prospect? ‘No good, Melusine,’ said a new voice from the doorway. Well, after a time there came a fever in my blood. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. ” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps.
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