With this view, he descended the hill and presently found a footpath leading to the church. Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. Together they made their painful way to the door, not even checking, in the effort this cost both, on what Gosse might be doing. Will you not, brother?" "Promise," said a deep voice in Trenchard's ear.
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