the animal
loose. That done, he supported his companion as well as he could, and
led him slowly forward.

Chapter 69

It was the dead of night, and very dark, when Barnaby, with his
stumbling comrade, approached the place where he had left his father;
but he could see him stealing away into the gloom, distrustful even of
him, and rapidly retreating. After calling to him twice or thrice that
there was nothing to fear, but without effect, he suffered Hugh to sink
upon the ground, and followed to bring him back.

He continued to creep away, until Barnaby was close upon him; then
turned, and said in a terrible, though suppressed voice:

'Let me go. Do not lay hands upon me. You have told her; and you and she
together have betrayed me!'

Barnaby looked at him, in silence.

'You have seen your mother!'

'No,' cried Barnaby, eagerly. 'Not for a long time--longer than I can
tell. A whole year, I think. Is she here?'

His father looked upon him steadfastly for a few moments, and then
said--drawing nearer to him as he spoke, for, seeing his face, and
hearing his words, it was impossible to doubt his truth:

'What man is that?'

'Hugh--Hugh. Only Hugh. You know him. HE will not harm you. Why, you're
afraid of Hugh! Ha ha ha! Afraid of gruff, old, noisy Hugh!'

'What man is he, I ask you,' he rejoined so fiercely, that Barnaby
stopped in his laugh, and shrinking back, surveyed him with a look of
terrified amazement.

'Why, how stern you are! You make me fear you, though you are my father.
Why do you speak to me so?'

--'I want,' he answered, putting away the hand which his son, with
a timid desire to propitiate him, laid upon his sleeve,--'I want an
answer, and you give me only jeers and questions. Who have you brought
with you to this hiding-place, poor fool; and where is the blind man?'

'I don't know where. His house was close shut. I waited, but no person
came; that was no fault of mine. This is Hugh--brave Hugh, who broke
into that ugly jail, and set us free. Aha! You like him now, do you? You
like him now!'

'Why does he lie upon the ground?'

'He has had a fall, and has been drinking. The fields and trees go
round, and round, and round with him, and the ground heaves under his
feet. You know him? You remember? See!'

They had by this time returned to where he lay, and both stooped over
him to look into his face.

'I recollect the man,' his father murmured. 'Why did you bring him
here?'

'Bec