As it is, I'm not sorry for the blunder. ’ Amusement flickered in Gerald’s breast. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. ’ ‘Truly?’ Melusine said excitedly. " "I know you'll contradict it, Sir," said the widow, looking at Wood as if she dreaded to have her fears confirmed,—"I know you will.
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