It was Mr. Lascelles who told gently and briefly the tale. The professor sat like one in a dream, then started to his feet.
"Lewis," he said, "my boy, my noble boy, fallen a prey to sharpers! How can it have happened? There must have been great blame somewhere.—Austin, did you know? Did you let your brother be led astray (you know the finest natures have all their weak points, and perhaps even Lewis had his) without trying to help him? And Priscilla—she is no child now. Did she not try?—Spent the evenings, you say, gambling? Why, 'tis impossible. Was he not in the drawing-room every evening? Speak, Austin; tell them it is all a mistake; it could not be."
And the father sunk down into his chair and groaned aloud.
Mr. M'Ivor came forward, saying, "Dr. Warner, you must rouse yourself and act, if you would have your son restored to you. This is no time for throwing blame on others. But I must free Austin. He has acted well towards his brother, and tried all he could to keep him back from evil companions; and even in concealing the matter from yourself (which I fully admit was wrong), Austin meant kindly to his brother. What we have now to do is to decide whether you will at once send some one in search of your son; and if so, where? My own idea, and that of André's as well, is that he will likely have gone to some seaport town to try and get on board some foreign vessel, being anxious to escape the disgrace he knew would fall on him."
Whilst they were thus speaking, Priscilla entered the room, her face pallid and sad, but with a look of energy in it. She seemed during these few hours to have left her girlhood behind her, and stood amongst them as a helpful woman. She went straight to her father, and said, "Father, blame me, not Austin. I have sinned. Had it not been for me, Lewis would not have left his home. I might, had it not been for my own selfish ambition and pursuits, have made the evenings pleasanter for him, and so have prevented all this misery. Of late months I have tried to make things different, but it was too late."
Dr. Warner said not a word; conscience was whispering to him that he too had neglected his fatherly duty. He rose from his chair with a bowed head and trembling limbs; but it was on his daughter's not Austin's shoulder that he leaned for support.
All inquiries were made regarding the name of the lad who had left Hereford along with Lewis, but no clue either to him or the probable destination of the runaways could be obtained.
Telegrams describing Lewis were sent to London and one or two of the seaport towns, and at Dr. Warner's special request, Mr. Pryor himself, accompanied by Austin, went to London and made all inquiries they could concerning the fugitive.
But no trace of Lewis Warner could be found, and no word came from him to the friends whom he knew loved him well.
To the eye of man, the once cherished son and brother had turned his back for ever on his father's house, and gone far astray from the kingdom of God.