Martin Harvey, now awaiting his trial for
poaching, and for being concerned in an affray with Sir George Roberts'
game-keepers, had once been his father's apprentice. Young Gray had
been endeavoring to procure for him all the legal help which the laws
then allowed; but his own means were limited, and, when he met Susan
and her boy in the garden, he had come to visit his uncle to ask his
assistance. He had now returned on the same errand. He pleaded
earnestly, and with caution, but was repulsed. It was in vain he urged
the poverty of agricultural laborers at that season, and the temptation
which an abundance of game afforded to half-starved men and their
wretched families.

"Nonsense, Alfred!" said old Mr. Gray. "I would not grudge you the money
if you did not want it for a bad purpose. You must not excuse men who go
out with guns and fire at their fellow-creatures in the dark."

"Martin did not fire, uncle--that is what I want to prove, and save him,
if I can, from transportation. He has a wife and child."

"Wife and child!" repeated the old man thoughtfully. "You did not tell me
he had a wife and child; that poor woman came from Uffeulme."

"Providence must have guided her," said the younger Gray. "It was indeed
Harvey's wife and son whom you so lately relieved."

"You shall have the money. I have all through life prayed that my heart
may not be hardened; and I find, old as I am, that, every day I have
fresh lessons to learn."

The next morning, while Alfred held anxious consultation with the
lawyers, the wife and husband met within the prison walls. They sat
together in silence, for neither could speak a single word of hope. The
boy never forgot that long and dreary day, during which he watched, with
wondering thoughts, the sad faces of his ruined parents.

The Crown Court of the Castle was next morning crowded to overflowing.
Among the struggling crowd that vainly sought to gain admission, was
Martin Harvey's wife. She was rudely repulsed by the door-keepers, who
"wondered what women wanted in such places." She still strove to keep her
ground, and watched with piteous looks the doors of the court. She braved
the heat and pressure for some time; but a sickly faintness at length
came over her. She was endeavoring to retreat into the open air, when she
felt some one touch her shoulder, and turning, saw Alfred Gray making his
way toward her. After a moment's pause in the cool air, he led her round
to a side-door,