"Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. To them all I am nothing. Accompanied by Sir Cecil, who still continued passionately enamoured of his sister, and to whom he represented that she had fallen a victim to the arts of a seducer, he set off, at fiery speed, for the metropolis. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. “Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. " "We'll be waiting for you. ” He was very indifferent.
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