The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd. You have been her guardian angel. Prudence twinkled at them, and reached out to pat Melusine’s hand. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you.
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