knowingthat I did so at the expense of your brother who had gone, young inyears 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 tojoin his sisters.
Volume Three, Chapter XX.
UNDER PRESSURE.
"Father, I am nearly mad with grief and horror. I come to you forhelp--for comfort. What shall I do?" cried Claire, sinking upon herknees 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 othertrouble 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, forhe 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 Imust feel. I'd lay down my life to save you both, but it seems sohorrible 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 somecaged wild creature, seeking to be free.
"I cannot bear it," he exclaimed. "Heaven help me for a wretched weakman. Why has this complication come to tempt me? Claire, I would havedied--without a murmur, without a word, but this dangling before me themeans of escape is too much. Yesterday, I did not fear death. To-day,I am a coward. I see before me the hideous beam, the noosed rope, theexecutioner, and the hooting crowd, hungry to see me strangled to death,and I fear it, I tell you, for the hope of life has begun to burnstrongly again now that Fred has spoken as he has."
"Father!"
"Yes; you shrink from me, but you do not know. Claire, I speak to youas I could speak to none else, for you have known so much from thebeginning. You know how I have suffered."
"Yes, yes," she said mournfully.
"You know how I have shrunk and writhed in spirit to see you loathe meas you have, and look upon me as something unutterably base and vile.Have I not suffered a very martyrdom?"
"Yes, father, yes," sighed Claire.
"And heaven knows I would not have spoken. I would have gone boldly tothe scaffold, and died, a sacrifice for another's crime. But now thathe has confessed--now that he denounces himself, and I see life beforeme once again, the desire to live comes so strongly to this poor weakcreature that my lips seem to be unsealed, and I must--I must have yourlove, Claire, as of old."
"Father!" cried Claire with a horrified look, as if she doubted hisreason.
"Yes, you are startled; you wonder at me, but, Claire, my child, had Igone to the gallows it would have been as a martyr, as a father dyingfor his son's crime. Claire, my child, I am an innocent man."
"Father!"
"Yes," he cried, "innocent. You never had cause to shrink from me; andwhile a thousand times you wrung my heart, I said to myself, `You mustbear it. You cannot retain her love and win your safety by accusingyour son.'"
"Father, you rave," cried Claire. "This hope of escape has made yougrasp at poor Fred's weak self-accusation. You would save yourself atthe expense of the life of your own child."
"Did I accuse him of the murder, Claire?"
"No, not till now; and oh, father, it is monstrous."
"Did he not accuse himself, stung by conscience after seeing me here?"
"It is not true. He could not have done such a thing."
"Indeed!" said Denville bitterly; "and yet I saw him leave the bedside,and stand with the jewel-casket in his hand. I say so to you, for Icannot bear it, child. Let them kill me if they will. Let them save myson; but let me, my child, let me go to my grave with the knowledge thatyou believe me true and innocent, and that I bore all that my son mightlive."
"Then you will not denounce him?"
"I? To save myself! No, though I would live. You do not believe meinnocent, my child. You think me a murderer."
"Father, I believe you were beside yourself with your troubles, and thatyou were going to take those jewels when you were interrupted, and, in afit of madness, did this deed to save yourself and children fromdisgrace."
"Claire, Claire," groaned the old man, "if you--if you only could havebelieved in me, I could have borne all, but you turn from me. Will younot believe in me? Have you not realised my self-sacrifice?"
"Oh, father, what can I say--what can I do?" cried Claire. "Do you notsee my position? Can I think of my poor brother now as the guilty man?"
"No," he said, taking her in his arms, and trying to soothe her in heragonised grief; "it is too much to ask you, my child. It is too muchfor such a one as you to be called upon to even think of. I will notpress you, Claire; neither will I ask you to forgive me. I could not dothat now. Only try to think of me as innocent. I ask you once more, mydarling; I ask you once more."
Claire threw her arms round his neck and drew his head down to herbosom.
"I am your child," she whispered softly. "Father dear, good-bye--good-bye."
"So soon?" muttered Denville. "Yes; good-bye--good-bye."
He held her hand till she was half through the door; and then, as it wasclosed, he tottered back to his seat, and once more sank down to buryhis face within his hands.
Volume Three, Chapter XXI.
FROM PRISON TO PRISON.
"Morton," said Claire hoarsely, as she returned to where her brother waswaiting, "are you still strong at heart?"
"Strong? Yes," he cried. "What do you want me to do?"
"Take me to Fred."
The young officer started, but he drew a long breath and rose erect.
"Come along," he said. "Colonel Lascelles will give me an order to seehim. But, Claire darling, can you bear to meet him now?"
"My own brother? Morton, could I stay away from you if sickness or awound had laid you low?"
"Come," he said abruptly; and, taking her arm, he led her along theparade on their way towards the barracks.
Before they had gone far Morton's cheeks flushed, for he saw LordCarboro' approaching, and he felt ready to turn out of the way.
"He will cut us dead," thought Morton. "We are disgraced for ever."
To his surprise, as they drew near, Lord Carboro' took off his hat, andheld it in his hand, bowing low to Claire as she passed him.
Fifty yards further they encountered Richard Linnell and Mellersh, who,without having seen Lord Carboro's act, imitated it exactly, and drewaside to let them pass.
Morton felt his heart throb with pleasure. He had expected those whoknew them to treat them slightingly, and his sister was being treatedwith the deference due to a queen, while he was receiving respect suchas had never been paid to him before.
He held his head the higher, and gaining in confidence walked boldly on,proud of the closely-veiled figure at his side, as Claire drooped overhis arm; but, as he drew nearer to the barracks, he felt a curioustremor attacking him, and it needed all his strength of mind to keep upand face his brethren of the mess.
Claire shrank more and more as they entered the gates and crossed thebarrack-yard, but Morton had screwed himself up to the sticking point,and he would have died sooner than have turned tail now.
Dragoon after dragoon saluted him, and he caught sight of Sir HarryPayne, but that officer had the grace to turn off, and they reached theColonel's quarters without an unpleasant encounter.
They were shown in at once, and without taking chairs Morton stooddefiant and proud awaiting the entrance of the Colonel, and supportinghis sister.
They were not kept waiting long before the Colonel entered, Mortonmeeting his eyes with a fiercely independent look.
He was armed against an unarmed man, for the old
Colonel's first act wasto place a chair for Claire, bowing to her with chivalrous deference,while directly after, in place of treating his subaltern with freezingdistance, he held out his hand and shook Morton's warmly.
The young officer had truly said that he was only a boy, for this kindlyact and the old Colonel's sympathetic look threw him off his balance,and his lip began to quiver and his face to change.
"You've come to ask for a pass to see your brother, Denville," saidColonel Lascelles. "Yes, of course, of course. Very sad--very painfulbusiness, my dear lad. No fault of yours, of course. Don't scruple toask me for any assistance I can give