Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. Wild!" demanded Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution. ’ ‘But—’ ‘You’ll get her all over blood again. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl.
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