"In the infirmary; weak with his wound. Father, you will forgive the past, and try to be friends with him when--when you meet again." The Master of the Ceremonies looked up sadly in his son's face and bowed his head slowly. "Yes," he said sadly; "I will try--when we meet again. But tell me, my boy," he cried agitatedly; "they do not believe what he says--this--this charge against himself?" "No; they look upon it as what it is--a brave piece of self-denial to save his father from this terrible position. Oh, father! you did not think he could be so staunch and true." "They don't believe it," muttered Denville. "No; they would not. It does not alter the situation in the least. I shall suffer, and he will be set free." "You shall not suffer, father," cried Morton impetuously. "Surely there is justice to be had in England. No, I will not have you give way in this weak, imbecile manner. There: no more now; I must go, and I shall consult with your friends." "No; I forbid it," cried the old man sternly. "You will not be disobedient to me now that I am helpless, Morton, my son. You cannot see it all as I see it." "No, father; I hope I see it more clearly." "Rash boy! you are blind, while it is my eyes that are opened. Morton, one of us must die for this crime. I tell you I could not live, knowing that I did so at the expense of your brother who had gone, young in years and unrepentant, to his account." "Unrepentant, father?" "Hush, hush, my boy! No more. I can bear no more." "Time, sir," said the voice of the gaoler, and Morton went sadly back to join his sisters. Volume Three, Chapter XX. UNDER PRESSURE. "Father, I am nearly mad with grief and horror. I come to you for help--for comfort. What shall I do?" cried Claire, sinking upon her knees before him on her next visit to the prison. "What comfort can I give you, child?" "Oh, father, dear father, were not our sufferings enough that this other trouble should come upon us? Fred--" "Yes, tell me of him," cried the old man excitedly. "Is he very bad?" "Dangerously wounded, father. And this story of his! They believe it, father; what shall I do?" "Do, my child?" "They will take him and punish him for the crime. I fear they will, for he persists that it was he." "And you would save him and let me die," said the old man bitterly. "No, no. Don't, pray don't, speak like that, father. Think of what I must feel. I'd lay down my life to save you both, but it seems so horrible that my brother should die for that of which he is innocent." The old man wrested himself from her grasp, and paced the cell like some caged wild creature, seeking to be free.