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While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. "I've obtained two packets, containing letters from Sir Rowland Trenchard, which I've no doubt will establish your title to the estates. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. That’s my advice to you. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. " This sally occasioned a general laugh.
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