Prudence lifted up her hands with a low wail. "I can never marry Ferdy," she said, in a broken voice.
"What nonsense; you shall marry him."
"And see my father stand in the dock as a felon."
"There is no chance of that, Prudence. What does your father say?"
"Clarice! Do you think that I have told him?" she said, vehemently. "Oh, no. Poor father has enough troubles to bear, without my heaping more on him. He knows nothing of my reason for refusing to marry."
"But he objects himself?" said Clarice, much perplexed.
"Yes, because of my brother. Frank has brought disgrace on us, and has died in disgrace."
"When and where, Prudence?"
"I can't tell you anything," rejoined the girl; "all I know is that just after the burial of your guardian, father received some bad news about Frank. I have not seen Frank for years, nor have I heard anything about him. He was always in trouble, and father was always sending him money. He borrowed that thousand to help Frank and get him out of some scrape. But this time the news must have been awful, for father came to me, and, saying that Frank was dead, and that he never wished to hear his name mentioned again, he wrote off to get another clergyman, and arranged that we should go away for a time."
"But has he never told you what your brother did?"