“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 with her. No, Mary, my father and mother, if alive, are still in this country.”
“Recollect again, my dear boy, that your father may be dead.”
“And if so, my mother would have by this time found me out; she would have advertised for me—done everything—I feel that she would have—she would have returned to Grassford, and—”
“And what, Joey?”
“I must not say what, Mary,” replied our hero; “I have thought a great deal since I have been shut up here, and I have taken my resolution, which is not to be changed; so let us say no more upon the subject, dear Mary. Tell me all about yourself.”
Mary remained another hour with Joey, and then bade him farewell; she was anxious to return to Mrs Austin, and acquaint her with the result of her interview; with a heavy heart she walked away from the cell, and went down into the parlour of the gaoler.
“Would you like to take anything?” said the gaoler’s wife, after Mary had sat down.
“A little water,” replied Mary.
“And how is your brother?”