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Half an hour later she laid aside the book. "Nobody has so much cause for complaint as me," growled Austin. "
"Faix, then we'll do it in style," cried the fellow. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the
scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’
‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. ‘The general himself?’
‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’
‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. She has even found them
accommodation in the house where she is putting up herself. That’s my opinion, if you ask me. She deserves
what has befallen her. And if he
didn’t, what was the good of seeing him?
“I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding
her be of good cheer, hurried off. 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. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his
granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so
many years ago.
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