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She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. ” “A sort of history,” said Mr. Then they would leave and she would go back to being alone. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. 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. Sheppard's conduct, from my own personal knowledge, has been unexceptionable for the last twelve years.
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