"Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. ” He said. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. ” Ann Veronica listened with her eyes on the fire. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. ’ She was too distressed to bear this.
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