Mrs. Thomas Trembath, the mother of Ande, for it was she, was the daughter of William Borlase, a younger son of a young branch of that illustrious Cornish family. He had been a rising young barrister of Bodman town, and would have won fame in his profession had not death claimed the bright mind. His wife and child managed to live on a thousand pounds that constituted the bulk of his little fortune. It was to Bodman that Captain Thomas Trembath came, seven years after the war with the American colonies terminated. He had never married, partly because he had been engaged in the American war and had no time to think of matrimony; partly because one great thought absorbed his attention, the vindication of his family name; and partly, most potent reason of all, no doubt, he had found no lady of his rank willing to take upon herself a name so stained with treason as his own; and, as for marrying beneath him, he gave it not a thought. He was then approaching middle age and was thinking most seriously of the problem, when, meeting young Mistress Elizabeth Borlase, he mentally decided the question. For three years this soldier, who had the courage to face the American batteries and the charge of Washington's horse, attended the Borlase home before he had the courage to settle his doubts. The daughter accepted him, but when the consent of the widow was asked there was a stormy scene. She was much outspoken against it, alleging the difference in ages, the Captain being fully fifteen years older than his affianced bride. The truth of the matter was that the widow had resolved to secure the handsome middle-aged Captain as a mate for herself and was mortified to find it was the daughter and not herself he desired. For ten years no children were born of this union. In the year 1805, however, a male child was born. "We will call him Borlase Trembath," said the mother, "for he has the Borlase mouth; those lips are like his grandfather's. He will be a speaker and a good singer." As if in testimony of his mother's opinion the babe set up a lusty wail, sometimes crescendo, sometimes staccato, then babbling recitando, flourishing his fists and kicking his limbs in animal spirit. "Oratory enough to oppose a Pitt," said the Captain, with a grimace, and putting his fingers in his ears. "He will be a parliamentarian some day, no doubt. See, he is already beginning to gesture." Then, changing his bantering tone, "He has the nose, the forehead, the blue eyes, the hair of his grandfather, Squire Andrew Trembath, my father, and why not the name." The wife saw the desire of her husband and acquiesced in the name. "He shall be called Andrew," she said.