Lawry, finding he could not speak without a fresh flow of tears, hastened out of the house. There were two wagons waiting for him; and when they were embarked in the boat, he pushed off, and trimmed the sail for the gentle breeze that was blowing up the lake. The passengers asked for his father; but Lawry could only tell them that he had gone away: the truth was too painful for him to reveal. He returned to his desolate home when he had ferried the wagons over the lake. There was nothing but misery in that humble abode, and but little sleep for those who were old enough to comprehend the sadness and shame of their situation. Before morning the news of John Wilford's crime had been circulated through the village of Port Rock and its vicinity. Some knew that the ferryman was lazy and thriftless, and wondered he had not robbed somebody before. Others had always regarded him as a person of no sagacity or forethought, but did not think he would steal. Many pitied his family, and some said that Lawry was "as smart as two of his father," and that his mother and the children would be well provided for. The intelligence went to the mansion of Mr. Sherwood, and there it touched the hearts of true friends. Though none of them knew much about the ferryman and his family, yet for Lawry's sake they were deeply interested in them. After breakfast Mr. Sherwood went down to the ferry-house; and the young pilot, with many tears and sobs, told him the whole of the sad story of his father's crime. The rich man was full of sympathy, but nothing could be done. He volunteered to be the culprit's bail, and to provide him with the best counsel in the State. But John Wilford was guilty, and nothing could wipe out this terrible truth. Mr. Sherwood did all he had promised to do; but the ferryman, after he had been examined and fully committed for trial, declined to furnish bail, declaring that he did not wish to be seen at Port Rock again. At the next session of the court, two months after his committal, he pleaded guilty of the robbery and was sentenced to three years' imprisonment in the penitentiary at Sing Sing. After the sentence the prisoner was permitted to see his family for the last time for many months. It was a sad and touching interview; but from it Lawry and his mother derived much consolation. John Wilford was penitent; he was truly sorry for what he had done, and declared that, when he had served out his time, he would be a better man than he had ever been before. It was comforting to the mother and son to know that the wanderer was not hardened and debased by his crime and the exposure; and they returned to their home submissive to their lot, sad and dreary as it was.