God forgive you!" "May He, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped. You do not wish to marry me at all, that is seen. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down stairs. Very well, then. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream.
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