” Presently, as if for comparison with her father’s letter, she got out Ramage’s check from the box that contained her papers. 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. Sometimes she missed her cue and nodded affirmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval. ‘You usually do,’ he said lightly. Her father had smiles ready for her, he seemed to be truly happy with her for the first time since her infancy. You’ll never see the light of day as long as you live. A constant attendant at court, he had the mortification to see every one promoted but himself, and thus bewails his ill-luck. Wood scarcely knew where he was. How came you by the hurt, eh?" "How did I come by it?—that's a nate question. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. With a little sigh of happiness she accepted this new thing. The rest of his attire was nondescript. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open.
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