"Yes, I wanted to see you," he said; "I wanted to see and speak to the man I taught when he was a boy, and in whom I took a great deal of pride. I was proud to see you progress, Luke Ross. I used to read and show the reports to your father when I saw them, for I said Luke Ross is a credit to our town." "And you said so to me often, Mr Mallow," cried old Michael. "I did--I did," said the Rector; "and to-day in court I asked myself what I had ever done to this man that he should strike me such a blow." "Be just, for heaven's sake, Mr Mallow," cried Luke. "I did not seek the task I have fulfilled to-day." "And I said to myself, as I saw my only son dragged away by his gaolers, `I will go and curse this man--this cold-blooded wretch who could thus triumph over us.' I said I would show him what he has done--bruised my heart, driven a suffering woman nearly mad, and made two little innocent children worse than orphans." "Mr Mallow, is this justice?" groaned Luke. "No," said the old man, softly. "I said it in mine haste, and as I hurried here mine anger passed away; the scales dropped from mine eyes, and I knew that it was no work of thine. Truly, as Eli's sons of old brought heaviness to their father's heart, so have my poor sons to mine; and, Michael Ross," he cried, holding out his trembling hands, "I was so proud of that boy--so proud. He was his mother's idol, and, bad as he would be at times, he was always good to her. Can you wonder that she loved him? Oh, God help me! my boy--my boy!" "It has been an agony to me ever since the brief was forced upon me, Mr Mallow," said Luke, taking the old man's hand. "Believe me, I could not help this duty I had to do." "God bless you, Luke Ross!" said the old man, feebly. "Like Balaam of old, I came to curse, and I stop to bless. If I have anything to forgive, I forgive you, as I hope to be forgiven. You have been a good son. Michael Ross, you have never known what it is to feel as I do now. But I must go back; I must go back to her at home. She waits to know the worst, and this last blow will kill her, gentlemen--my poor, suffering angel of a wife--it will be her death." "Will you not come and see Sage first?" said Portlock, with rough sympathy. "No, no, I think not. The sight of my sad face would do her harm. I'll get home. Keep her with you, Portlock. God bless her!--a true, sweet wife. We came like a blight to her, Portlock. Luke Ross, I ought not to have allowed it, but I thought it was for the best--that it would reform my boy. My life has been all mistakes, and I long now to lie down and sleep. Keep her with you, Portlock, and teach her and her little ones to forget us all." He tottered to the door to go, but Luke stepped forward. "He is not fit to go alone," he cried. "Mr Portlock, what is to be done?" "I must take him home," he replied, sadly. "I'd better take them all home, but I have a message for you." "For me?" cried Luke. "Not from Mrs Cyril?"