They were followed by Mr. " "Aliva Trenchard!" exclaimed Mrs. ‘That would have grieved Jarvis. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression.
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