It’s true. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room. He wouldn’t like it if people did it to him. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. The room seemed a vacuum. “But, you see, appearances are very much against me.
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