Bearing his unconscious burden, Glaze, followed by his nephew, entered, and soon related his tale.
"Poor girl! Poor dear!" said Mrs. Trembath, as she chafed Alice's hands and then essayed to pour a little reviving cordial down her throat. The cordial revived her, and she opened her eyes, and then, in as many words as kind, motherly Mrs. Trembath would allow, she told her story.
"The young villain!" exclaimed Glaze, indignantly, as he heard of the doings of Mr. Richard. "I wish it was 'im instead of Bob, that I flung into the harbour."
"Poor child!" said Mrs. Trembath, as she drew the girl to herself. "The ones who afflicted you and defrauded you of your home, did the same to me. We are in similar circumstances, and you shall stay here until you feel better."
But Mistress Alice was far from soon being strong and well again. The long period of nursing her sick father, his death, the loss of the Manor, and the harrowing experience of that wild night's ride to Falmouth, were too much for her worn constitution, and she succumbed to brain fever. Throughout the long period of her sickness Mrs. Trembath would have been sorely distressed had it not been for the generosity of Glaze and Puckinharn. Glaze, as a friend of the old squire, having received his patronage, thought he was in duty bound to leave a sovereign now and then in Mrs. Trembath's hands, and his nephew, having taken the pledge, found he had many spare shillings and sixpences to spend in so good a cause.
CHAPTER XXX
THE MAJOR'S HOME-COMING
"Ande, son, we'll push straight on to the village; thy mother, lad, was always an early riser, and mayhap will have a light in the window," said the old Major, after they had eaten a light breakfast in the Angel Inn. Major Trembath and his son, Ande, had arrived three o'clock that morning at the Falmouth Breakwater. They had hurriedly left the ship and had taken the early morning stage coach for Helston, arriving there in time for an early breakfast.