son--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."

"Listen to me, sir, and you won't say so. You remember this, night
twenty years? I came here with my motherless child, and yourself and the
mistress pitied us, and spoke loving words to him. Well for us all you
did so! That night--little you thought it!--I was banded with them that
were sworn to take your life. They were watching you outside the window,
and I was sent to inveigle you out, that they might shoot you. A faint
heart I had for the bloody business, for you were ever and always a good
master to me; but I was under an oath to them that I darn't break,
supposing they ordered me to shoot my own mother. Well! the hand of God
was over you, and you wouldn't come with me. I ran out to them, and I
said, 'Boys, if you want to shoot him, you must do it through the
window,' thinking they'd be afeard of that; but they weren't--they were
daring fellows, and one of them, sheltered by the angle of the window,
took deadly aim at you. That very moment you took Billy on your knee,
and I saw his fair head in a line with the musket. I don't know exactly
then what I said or did, but I remember I caught the man's band, threw
it up, and pointed to the child. Knowing I was a determined man. I
believe they didn't wish to provoke me; so they watched you for a while,
and when you didn't put him down, they got daunted, hearing the sound of
soldiers riding by the road, and they stole away through the grove. Most
of that gang swung on the gallows, but the last of them died this
morning quietly in his bed. Up to yesterday he used to make me give him
money--sums of money to buy his silence--and it was for that I made my
boy a thief. It was wearing out his very life. Often he went down on his
knees to me, and said, 'Father, I'd die myself sooner than rob my
master, but I can't see _you_ disgraced. Oh, let us fly the country!'
Now, sir, I have told you all--do what you like with me--send me to
jail, I deserv