"I tell you what, Mr. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. He hated the taste of it. "But if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be to him what I would have been. She was on the rim of civilization, entering, as Spurlock was on the rim, preparing to make his exit.
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