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" "It is past," rejoined Lady Trafford, recovering herself by a powerful effort; "but never allude to the circumstance again. As this gentleman was going away, he said to Jack in a jesting manner, 'that he should be glad to see him to-night at supper. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. \" Lucy fought to resist the compulsion to 45 fold her arms over her chest. Here we go, thought Gerald. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child.
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