‘No, but I seen the light, sir. 1. "One of us has got to die," he panted. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. ” “What is there to be feared?” he asked her quietly. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. Ascertaining that it was Sheppard of whom this concourse was in pursuit, the two horsemen leapt the hedge, and were presently close upon him. She stepped into his arms. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed.
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