Her father was right: Ruth must never know. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. This child at once alarmed and thrilled them. Wild!" demanded Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution. "After all," he said, "this is the safest weapon. “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. What does she look like?’ ‘Black hair.
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