'Received from Sir Rowland Trenchard, 15,000 £. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. And if she is not a nun, nor a refugee, and yet is entirely English, I’m hanged if I know what she is. Stanley, “just a moment. "Have you never an out-o-the-vay corner, into vich you could shtow these troublesome warmint?" observed Abraham. Sheppard, hastily; "is that the name?" "Ay, ay, now I look again it is Trenchard. Adieu!" And, snatching a hasty kiss, he darted after Jack. "Mercy on us! what have I said!" cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by the agitation of her mistress; "do sit down, your ladyship, while I run for the ratifia and rosa solis. ” “That will follow,” said Kitty Brett—“that will follow.
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