Claude uttered a faint cry and threw up her veil, to gaze wildly at the woman.
“My faith, you look. Yes, I am his wife, I tell you again. You are nothing.”
“Woman, is this true?” said Trevithick sternly.
“Bah! I say it not again. Go ask him, but he will only lie. Aha! and he could leave me to marry that! She is poor and weak. Take her away. I have the power to go and see my husband. This woman shall not pass.”
“Tell me where you are staying,” whispered Trevithick quickly. “Ah, I remember now. I saw you at Danmouth, at the hotel.”
The woman made no reply, but went on up to the gate, while Claude clung to the strong arm which supported her.
“Mr Trevithick, can this be true?” she whispered.
“Heaven only knows,” he said; “but you cannot go there now.”
Chris Lisle’s watch proved to be far shorter than he could have hoped, his patience being rewarded by the sight of the young mistress of the Fort as she was supported back into her home.