Lucy looked at her with a small measure of pity. "To-morrow it will be mine. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. “If you wish,” he said, “I will go there in the morning and see what can be done for him. ’ ‘What husband?’ ‘Precisely. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. Charcoal.
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