He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. 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. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. ” He leaned towards her. ” Ann Veronica’s mind was filled with confused unutterable replies. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. Sir John stood upon the threshold. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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