Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. And it hampers us. After a brief conversation, which Sheppard sustained with his accustomed liveliness, the old man turned to Bess and addressed a few words of common-place gallantry to her. Wood, in indignant surprise. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester.
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