The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. “And now, look at us! See what we have become. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously. I am called Melusine.
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