The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. 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. “Excuse me a moment. “I know that our social order is dreadful enough,” he said, “and sacrifices all that is best and most beautiful in life. She could not hide her face. \" His tone was weak and conciliatory. You are more in my power than I am in yours. " As Ben spoke, they drew near the opposing parties. What had she to do with such as these? She had hard work to keep a smiling face, as Mrs. “They wanted me to identify some one whom I had certainly never seen before in my life, and to tell you the truth, they were positively rude to me because I could not. ” “Such independence,” he answered quickly, “is a vice. The worst was over now.
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