—Your father, Sir Montacute Trenchard, who had been a loyal subject of King James the Second, and borne arms in his service, on the abdication of that monarch, turned his back upon the Stuarts, and would never afterwards recognise their claims to the crown. It was not only that her father had said all sorts of inconsistent and unreasonable things, but that by some incomprehensible infection she herself had replied in the same vein. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. But I will never—never return. She had very few clear memories before a particular day in the library, when they had finished one of her first reading lessons. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. " "But why not?" The doctor dallied with his teaspoon. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere. We fixed that. Did you really doubt if I knew?” “No.
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