"Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. I. "I was only just in time. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. . ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. ‘The sisters here will not save you.
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