“Where’s the use, Nelly,” said the coachman, “in hiding it from him? Sure, sooner or later he must know it. Tim,” he continued, “God knows ’tis sorrow to my heart this blessed night to make yours sore,—but the truth is, that William has done what he oughtn’t to do to the man that was all one as a father to him.” “What has he done? what will you _dar_ say again my boy?” “Taken money, then,” replied the coachman, “that the master had marked and put by in his desk; for he suspected this some time past that gold was missing. This morning ’twas gone; a search was made, and the marked guineas were found with your son William.” The old man covered his face with his hands, and rocked himself to and fro. “Where is he now?” at length he asked, in a hoarse voice. “Locked up safe in the inner store-room; the master intends sending him to gaol early to-morrow morning.” “He will not,” said Gahan slowly. “Kill the boy that saved his life!—no, no.” “Poor fellow! the grief is setting his mind astray—and sure no wonder!” said the cook, compassionately. “I’m not astray!” cried the old man, fiercely. “Where’s the master?—take me to him.” “Come with me,” said the butler, “and I’ll ask him will he see you?” With faltering steps the father complied; and when they reached the parlour, he trembled exceedingly, and leant against the wall for support, while the butler opened the door, and said: “Gahan is here, Sir, and wants to know will you let him speak to you for a minute?” “Tell him to come in,” said Mr. Hewson, in a solemn tone of sorrow, very different from his ordinary cheerful voice. “Sir,” said the steward, advancing, “they tell me you are going to send my boy to prison,—is it true?” “Too true, indeed, Gahan. The lad who was reared in my house, whom my wife watched over in health, and nursed in sickness—whom we loved almost as if he were our own, has _robbed_ us, and that not once or twice, but many times. He is silent and sullen, too, and refuses to tell why he stole the money, which was never withheld from him when he wanted it. I can make nothing of him, and must only give him up to justice in the morning.” “No, Sir, no. The boy saved your life; you can’t take his.” “You’re raving, Gahan.”