The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. But still she knew they were not right, and at times they became a horrible obsession as of something waiting for her round the corner. ” “That is quite untrue,” she declared cheerfully. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. Sheppard. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. "How?" cried her brother, starting. CHAPTER IV. The major hailed him with a show of relief.
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