The other lay unconscious in a heap. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. It had been cut down before life was extinct, but a ball from one of the soldiers had pierced his heart. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. They would be partners only in loneliness.
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