dam," said Michael, "that must have been some other Robert
Penfold; not my son. He could not come home. His time was not up, you
know."

"It was Robert Penfold, son of Michael Penfold."

"Excuse me a moment," said Michael; and he went to a drawer, and brought
her a photograph of Robert. "Was it this Robert Penfold?"

The girl took the photograph, and eyed it, and lowered her head over it.

"Yes," she murmured.

"And he was coming home in the ship with you. Is he mad? More trouble!
more trouble!"

"Do not alarm yourself," said Helen; "he will not land in England for
years"--here she stifled a sob--"and long ere that we shall have restored
him to society."

Michael stared at that, and shook his head.

"Never," said he; "that is impossible."

"Why impossible?"

"They all say he is a felon."

"They all _shall_ say that he is a martyr."

"And so he is; but how can that ever be proved?"

"I don't know. But I am sure the truth can always be proved, if people
have patience and perseverance."

"My sweet young lady," said Michael sadly, "you don't know the world."

"I am learning it fast, though. It may take me a few years, perhaps, to
make powerful friends, to grope my way among forgers, and spies, and
wicked, dishonest people of all sorts, but so surely as you sit there
I'll clear Robert Penfold before I die."

The good feeble old man gazed on her with admiration and astonishment.

She subdued her flashing eye, and said with a smile: "And you shall help
me. Mr. Penfold, let me ask you a question. I called here before; but you
were gone to Edinburgh. Then I wrote to you at the office, begging you to
let me know the moment you returned. Now, do not think I am angry; but
pray tell me why you would not answer my letter."

Michael Penfold was not burdened with _amour propre,_ but who has not got
a little of it in some corner of his heart? "Miss Rolleston," said he, "I
was born a gentleman, and was a man of fortune once, till false friends
ruined me. I am in business now, but still a gentleman; and neither as a
gentleman nor as a man of business could I leave a lady's letter
unanswered. I never did such a thing in all my life. I never got your
letter," he said, quite put out; and his wrath was so like a dove's that
Helen smiled and said, "But I posted it myself. And my address was in it;
yet it was not returned."

"Well, madam, it was not delivered, I assure you.

"It was intercepted, then."

He looked at h