taking off his hat. "May I presume to
ask who has the charge of this dear child at this present moment?"

The usher made no difficulty in stating the name and residence of the
preceptor, and, having gained this information, Furness shook Joey by
the hand, bade him farewell, and, wishing him every happiness, walked
away.

Joey's mind was confused during the remainder of his walk, and it was
not until their return home that he could reflect on what had passed.
That Furness had given evidence upon the inquest he knew, and he had
penetration, when he read it, to feel that there was no necessity for
Furness having given such evidence. He also knew that there was a
reward of two hundred pounds for his apprehension; and when he thought
of Furness's apparent kindness, and his not reverting to a subject so
important as wilful murder having been found against him, he made up his
mind that Furness had behaved so with the purpose of lulling him into
security, and that the next day he would certainly take him up, for the
sake of the reward.

Now, although we have not stopped our narrative to introduce the
subject, we must here observe that Joey's love for his parents,
particularly his father, was unbounded; he longed to see them again;
they were constantly in his thoughts, and yet he dared not mention them,
in consequence of the mystery connected with his quitting his home. He
fully perceived his danger: he would be apprehended, and being so, he
must either sacrifice his father or himself. Having weighed all this in
his mind, he then reflected upon what should be his course to steer.
Should he go home to acquaint Major McShane? He felt that he could
trust him, and would have done so, but he had no right to intrust any
one with a secret which involved his father's life. No, that would not
do; yet, to leave him and Mrs McShane after all their kindness, and
without a word, this would be too ungrateful. After much cogitation, he
resolved that he would run away, so that all clue to him should be lost;
that he would write a letter for McShane, and leave it. He wrote as
follows:--

"DEAR SIR,--Do not think me ungrateful, for I love you and Mrs
McShane dearly, but I have been met by a person who knows me, and will
certainly betray me. I left my father's home, not for poaching, but a
murder that was committed; _I was not guilty_. This is the only
secret I have held from you, and the secret is not MINE. I could not