I refused to sign a petition in his behalf to the Recorder; not from any ill-will to him, but because it was prepared by a person whom I particularly dislike— Captain Darrell. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. "God forgive me for using such a word!" he cried, in a troubled tone; "if I hadn't yielded to my wife's silly request, this wouldn't have happened!" CHAPTER VII. "That is good. They're gone into the next room.
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