"Can nothing be done?" continued Mrs. Wilford, appealing to the sheriff. "Must he go with you?" "He must; my duty is as plain as it can be." The poor woman suggested various expedients to avoid the fearful consequences; she appealed to the bank director, and begged him not to prosecute her husband. Mr. Randall, though he had been greatly irritated by the cruel insinuations of the culprit, was not a malignant man; and he was disposed to grant the petition of the disconsolate wife. He had recovered his money, and had no malice against the ferryman. But the sheriff declared that no such arrangement could be tolerated. The matter had been placed in his hands, and, as a sworn officer of the law, he should be obliged to arrest the offender. In vain Mrs. Wilford pleaded for her husband; in vain Lawry pleaded for his father; the sheriff, kind and considerate as he had shown himself to be, was inexorable in the discharge of his duty. There was no alternative; and John Wilford must go to jail. The poor wife, when she found that her tears and her pleadings were unavailing, submitted to the stern necessity. She insisted that her husband should be allowed to change his dress, which the sheriff readily granted; and in a short time the culprit appeared in his best clothes. It was a sad parting between him and his family, and even the ferryman wept as he passed out from beneath his humble roof, not again to come beneath its friendly shelter for many, many weary months. Mrs. Wilford and Lawry were stunned by the heavy blow. The light of earthly joys seemed suddenly to have gone out, and left them in the gloom and woe of disgrace. There was nothing to be said at such a time, and they sobbed in silence, until the sound of the ferry-horn roused Lawry from his lethargy of grief. Some one wished to cross the lake, and had given the usual signal with the tin horn, placed on a post for the purpose, at the side of the road. "There is no ferryman here now," said Mrs. Wilford gloomily. "I will go, mother," replied Lawry. "It may be many a day before your father comes back," added Mrs. Wilford, as she wiped away her tears. "It is a great deal worse than a funeral." "We can't help it, mother, and I suppose we must make the best of it." "I suppose we must; but I don't know what we are going to do." "We shall do well enough, mother. I will attend to the ferry; but poor father--"