"You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Sheppard, who witnessed this occurrence with dismay, looked timorously at Wood, in expectation of some hint being given as to the course she had better pursue; but, receiving none, for the carpenter was too much agitated to attend to her, she ventured to express a fear that she was intruding. ‘I think,’ he said pleasantly, ‘that it would be as well if you, Hilary, were to go and fetch the troops. "Come to buy off Jack Sheppard, I suppose," replied the fellow. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them.
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