About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. It is better to face the truth. You are wrong even about that man’s scientific position and his standard of work. A sob was strangled in her throat. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. But it was now too late to turn back, and, nerving himself for the shock he expected to encounter, he ventured after his conductor. He put his free arm around her and held the censer ready; and as Ruth snuggled her cheek against his sleeve, they were, so far as intent, in each other's arms. As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance.
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