"No, my child," said the Churchwarden, gazing tenderly in her sad, thin face. "I shall not turn against him for your sake. But you had better tell me all. You say he is in trouble, but innocent?" She gazed wildly from one to the other. "I dare not," she moaned, as she covered her face with her hands, and shuddered. "Dare not?" "Yes, I dare," she cried, proudly throwing up her head. "It is not true. Cyril has his faults, but it is a cruel invention of spiteful enemies. It is a lie." She stood up proudly defiant, ready to fight the world on her husband's behalf, and seemed half angry with her uncle's want of enthusiasm as he said, quietly-- "Tell me then, my dear. What do they say?" "That he has committed forgery, and robbed poor old Mr Walker, who, they say, died of a broken heart at the disgrace of the failure." "And where is Cyril, now?" said the Churchwarden, whose forehead had grown full of deeper lines. "Oh, uncle," Sage cried, throwing herself upon her knees, and shuddering as she covered her face with her hands. "He was sitting with me last night, and--Oh, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it," she wailed--"the police came. They said it was a warrant, and--oh, uncle, help me, pray help me, for I have but you to cling to. My husband is in prison now. What shall I do?" PART THREE, CHAPTER THREE. LUKE ROSS HEARS NEWS. Old Michael Ross sat very patiently outside his son's chambers, watching the door, and finding enough satisfaction in reading over the name, `Mr Ross,' again and again. "It's not a grand place to look at," he said to himself; "but they tell me he's growing quite a big man. I read for myself what he says to the judges in court sometimes; and it's a very great thing for my son to be allowed to talk to them." Then he had to move to allow some one to pass up, and soon after he had again to move for some one to pass down, and each time he rose those who passed looked keenly at the countrified old gentleman, with his carpet bag and umbrella, but no one spoke. "I did see how many people there are in London," said the old man to himself. "Three millions, I think it was; and yet what a strange dull place it is, and how lonesome a man can feel. Ah!" he said, sadly, "if my son was to be vexed because I have come up, and not be glad to see me, I think I should seem to be all alone in the world." Just then the door opened, and the little clerk came out with a felt hat stuck very much on one side of his head. He started as he saw the old man seated patiently waiting, and after closing the door he said, sharply-- "Now then, old chap, what are you stopping for?" "I was waiting to see my--to see Mr Ross," said the old man, who seemed quite humbled by the greatness of his son. "Didn't I tell you he wasn't at home?" said the boy. "Yes, sir; and I was going to wait till he returned." "It's of no use to wait; he don't want to see you." "Do you think not?" said the old man, humbly.