Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips. Tears started to the young man's eyes on beholding the change, and it was with difficulty he could command himself sufficiently to make the inquiries he desired to do respecting the former owner of the house. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. And so your Melusine is busy trying to prove that she is the real one. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. Perhaps he truly meant it – perhaps there was a force within him that could withstand the hardships of existing past a mortal lifetime. Looking for something, or someone, probably.
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