e seen your
brother, my dear child, you had better come back again, and sit down
here a little while, and then, perhaps, I can be of some use to you, in
letting you know what can be done, and what is not allowed."

Mary could not speak, but she looked at the gaoler's wife, her eyes
brimming over with tears. The kind woman understood her. "Go now,"
said she, "and mind you come back to me."

The turnkey, without speaking, led her to the cell, fitted the key to
the ponderous lock, pushed back the door, and remained outside. Mary
entered, and in a second was in the arms of our hero, kissing him, and
bedewing his cheeks with her tears.

"I was sure that you would come, Mary," said Joey; "now sit down, and I
will tell you how this has happened, while you compose yourself; you
will be better able to talk to me after a while."

They sat down on the stretchers upon which the bed had been laid during
the night, their hands still clasped, and as Joey entered into a
narrative of all that had passed, Mary's sobs gradually diminished, and
she was restored to something like composure.

"And what do you intend to do when you are brought to trial, my dear
boy?" said Mary at last.

"I shall say nothing, except `Not Guilty,' which is the truth, Mary; I
shall make no defence whatever."

"But why will you not confess the truth?" replied Mary. "I have often
thought of this, and have long made up my mind, Joey, that no one could
act as you do if a parent's life were not concerned; you, or anybody
else, would be mad to sacrifice himself in this way, unless it were to
save a father."

Joey's eyes were cast down on the stone pavement; he made no reply.

"Why, then, if I am right in my supposition," continued Mary--"I do not
ask you to say yes or no on that point--why should you not tell the
truth? Furness told me that your father and mother had left the
village, and that he had attempted to trace them, but could not; and he
expressed himself sure that they were gone to America. Why, then,
supposing I am right, should you sacrifice yourself for nothing?"

"Supposing you are right, Mary," replied Joey, with his eyes still cast
down, "what proof is there that my parents have left the country? It
was only the supposition of Furness, and it is my conviction that they
have not. Where they may be, I know not; but I feel positive that my
mother would not leave the country without having first found out where
I was, and have taken me