Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone. —Your father, Sir Montacute Trenchard, who had been a loyal subject of King James the Second, and borne arms in his service, on the abdication of that monarch, turned his back upon the Stuarts, and would never afterwards recognise their claims to the crown. So she built a shrine. She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. You’d make a good Devil. I’ve—dreads. “Cheer up, Annabel. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them.
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