‘He could have little comfort there, indeed. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. It is not the woman who speaks there. My father has made every possible inquiry, and offered large rewards; but has not been able to discover the slightest trace of him. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. Carefully sustaining the child which, even in that terrible extremity, he had not the heart to abandon, he fell upon his knees, and, guiding himself with his right hand, crept slowly on.
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