About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. "Old Van told me if he grew up he would be hanged. You haven’t had it on your mind all this time?” “I have rather. ” “Two years ago,” she answered. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret. I should know you—in Heaven or Hell. The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. Nobody who cared.
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