“It is then as I suspected,” exclaimed Oriel Porphyry, earnestly. “My father is dead.”
“No, sir, it is not so bad as that,” replied the captain, as if hesitating in making the communication.
“What is it then? let me know immediately. I am sure by your manner it is something dreadful,” cried the young merchant.
“Your father is a prisoner,” said Captain Barter, with a look of sincere commiseration.
“Have they dared?” exclaimed Oriel.
“But I am sorry to say it is worse than that, sir,” added his companion.
“What! what is it? Do not keep me in suspense—I implore you to tell me,” cried the other.
“He is ordered for execution,” said the captain.
“The miscreants!” muttered the young merchant. “But I knew it would be so. I knew they would not rest satisfied with their privileges curtailed. I knew they would seek the first opportunity to regain their lost power. I was convinced that they would regard my father as their enemy, and sacrifice him on the earliest occasion. But tell me how it was brought about? I would know all.”