Luke made an impatient movement.
“And she said that she had no one to appeal to in her sore distress.”
“I am not her friend,” said Luke, coldly.
“But you will be, my boy, when I tell you that, sobbing bitterly, she asked me to come to you, and if you had one spark of feeling for her left, to try and save her husband.”
“She bade you come and say this, father?” cried Luke, with the beads of perspiration standing upon his brow.
“Yes, my son, for the sake of old times when you were girl and boy together.”
Luke drew his hand away, and leaping from the edge of the table where he had been sitting, began to pace the room once more, while the old man sat rubbing his hands up and down his knees and gazing at him aghast.
Just then there was a sharp knock, and the boy entered.
“Engaged,” said Luke, angrily. “I can see no one;” and the boy disappeared as if in alarm.
“I’m very, very sorry, my boy,” faltered old Michael; “but—”