" "You are heiress to the Trenchard property," rejoined Jonathan, "one of the largest estates in Lancashire. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. Pray, walk in. " Not a little perplexed by the mysterious object she had seen, Rachel left the room, and, shortly afterwards returned with the materials of a tolerably good supper;—to wit, a couple of cold fowls, a tongue, the best part of a sirloin of beef, a jar of pickles, and two small dishes of pastry. "Ja," replied the skipper.
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