"As long as you please, Sir," answered the matron, dropping a curtsey. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. ” “Cooped up!” he cried. “It is true. ” She departed from the couch and went upstairs to find John. "You shall not pass," cried several of the crowd.
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