He looked at her with a strange expression in his hollow eyes that sometimes burned so brightly, and sometimes were clouded over with a mist of bewilderment and semi-delirious imaginings. He looked at her as though about to speak, but then suddenly closing his lips, he turned hastily away and walked rapidly, though a little unsteadily, in the opposite direction; whilst a woman from a neighbouring cottage came hurrying out, and Bride saw that Mother Clat was approaching. “’Tidden wise o’ yu tu talk wi’ yon lad out heer alone, Laady Bride. He be maazed wi’ t’ prison vever, he be,” she said anxiously, with a backward glance over her shoulder at the retiring figure of Saul. “Duee go tu home now, and letten ’lone tu coom tu hisself. Yu’ll on’y be aggin’ he on to du wusser ef zo be as yu try to talk un zoft.” “I am very sorry for him. He looks very ill,” said Bride compassionately. “Do you know where he is living now?” “He du be bidin’ wi’ me these past tu daays,” answered the woman; “I wunt zay how long he’ll bide. He’s gotten zome money, an’ he’s a rare hand wi’ th’ bwoats. I reckon he can maake a shift to live down along wi’ we, ef zo be as he’s got a mind tu.” “Take care of him, then,” said Bride pleadingly. “I think he wants care and good food whilst he looks so thin and gaunt. Give him all you think he needs, and I will take care you are no loser. Don’t say a word to him, but just let me know. See, I will leave this crown with you now. Get him everything he ought to have. I never saw anybody so dreadfully changed before.” The woman took the coin and nodded. She was perfectly to be trusted, despite the peculiarity of her position in St. Bride as the known ally of smugglers, and the cleverest hider and concealer of contraband goods in the place. Bride perfectly recognised the distinction between general dishonesty and this particular sin, so common in those days amongst men otherwise upright and trustworthy. She left the bay a little comforted by learning that Saul had at least a roof over his head, and was amongst men who liked and trusted him. Mother Clat was, with all her witch-like aspect and rough speech, a kind-hearted woman, and would do her best for her lodger. Saul was better here by the salt sea waves than in some poor lodging in Pentreath. Evidently the death of the cobbler and the scattering of the little band of malcontents had for the time shattered his dream of becoming a semi-professional agitator. The fascination of the blue sea, the boundless sky, and the tossing salt waves had drawn him back to St. Bride’s. If only some gentler influence could be brought to bear upon him, he might yet become a changed character with patience and time.