CHAPTER XXVII. I really cannot have anything to do with Mr. " "Zounds!" cried Marvel, "I—" "Hush!" whispered the tapstress, "or I retract my promise. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed. By your father, Sir Montacute Trenchard's will, you are aware,—and, therefore, I need not repeat it, except for the special purpose I have in view,—you are aware, I say, that, by this will, in case your sister Aliva, died without issue, or, on the death of such issue, the property reverts to Constance and her issue. Still —there you are!” He paused.
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