By your father, Sir Montacute Trenchard's will, you are aware,—and, therefore, I need not repeat it, except for the special purpose I have in view,—you are aware, I say, that, by this will, in case your sister Aliva, died without issue, or, on the death of such issue, the property reverts to Constance and her issue. His face turned a dark crimson. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. It was just then that she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. 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. You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white. He had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. I'm heading for bed.
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