Mary did not immediately perceive what had happened; but when the dreadful reality burst upon her, the shock was too powerful for her frame, exhausted as it was by anxiety and grief. While there was an immediate call for exertion--while there was any thing to be done for her husband--the exertion had roused and supported her. That support was now at an end, and she fell senseless on the floor. Hannah Reeves was up stairs with the children, one of them having begun to cry, and she had succeeded in quieting and lulling it asleep. Upon returning to the back room, she found Mary Waldron extended motionless by the side of her husband. Gently raising her up, she endeavoured to restore her to herself by throwing cold water in her face, applying burnt feathers to her nostrils, and making use of such other remedies, as either she, or two or three neighbours, who had come in to her assistance, could think of. For a long time their endeavours were ineffectual. At length a slight convulsive tremor seemed to pass over her. Her lips, which had been deadly pale, began to assume something of their natural colour, and after one or two deep and long drawn sighs, she appeared to breathe with some degree of freedom. The first care of her kind attentive neighbours was, to remove her from the sad object which was stretched out by her side. With difficulty they got her up stairs, and undressing her, laid her in the same bed with her children. Hannah Reeves was anxiously watching over her, when she opened her eyes, and said in a faint voice, "What, is it you, Hannah? What brings you here so early in the morning? But I suppose it is time for me to think of getting up.--Oh! Hannah, I have had such a dreadful dream! But it is all over now, I am so glad that you woke me." And then after a little pause, added, "How soon do you think James will be home again? He told me that he should come back before night." Poor Hannah turned away her head, and seemed to busy herself in another part of the room, and Mary again fell into an unquiet slumber. Henry Stanwick had been landed near the castle at Sandgate, supported by one of his men, he was slowly ascending the beach, when he was met by the Admiral muffled up in a sea cloak. He had heard of the engagement with the smugglers, and of his nephew's wounds. "Come along, Harry, with me," said he, "we must nurse you at my house. I have no doubt that you would be taken very good care of here: but still there are some little comforts, which perhaps can be furnished better at a private house; and we must allow that the women understand these matters better than we do." Henry yielded to his uncle's persuasions. He found his two cousins ready to receive him, with looks expressive of tender affection, mixed with deep anxiety. They had been busily occupied in preparing his room. As the surgeon was expected every moment, they were fearful of altering the position of the wounded arm until his arrival.