There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. F. “You cannot say that you did not expect me,” he answered. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. ‘A thing Marthe told me of,’ Melusine answered, her attention on the garments that were still lying higgledy-piggledy, just as she had left them.
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