He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. From this night I shall pursue a different course; from this night his ruin may be dated. But though he visited Sir Rowland Trenchard's seat, Ashton Hall, he could gain no tidings of him, or of his uncle, Sir Rowland, who, it seems, has left the country. I want to be myself. “Please forgive me.
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