Hill would have followed her, but Mrs. Wood,—"he'll never mend. Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. "He lives at Dollis Hill, a beautiful spot near Willesden, about four or five miles from town, where he has taken a farm. But you must see her alone; and that'll be no easy matter to manage, for she's a great invalid, and has generally somebody with her. Is this man Hill dead?” She shook her head.
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