" "Power o' mercy!" cried Blueskin starting. Neither combatant could use his sword; and in strength the fugitive was evidently superior to his antagonist. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. He's passed through some rough mental torture. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. And so sudden and well-directed was the assault, that he completely overthrew his gigantic antagonist.
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