“Very true!” replied Vernon, moved to a degree he was unwilling to acknowledge.

“Now, if you jest turn over a new leaf in the book of life, and try to fotch out right in the end, I believe the old man would cry quits on the old score.”

“Send those men away, captain!  I will not attempt to escape.”

Jerry complied, and the watchers took their departure.

“Where is my father?”

“Close by, stranger.  May be you’d like to see him?”

“On no account!”

“That’s a good sign, anyhow,” muttered Jerry.  “You will have to see him, I am afraid.  You are under his ruff.”

Vernon, completely overcome, staggered to a chair, and covered his face with his hands.

“Not so bad a boy as one mought suppose,” soliloquized Jerry, as he went to the door, and requested the servant to summon Dr. Vaudelier.  “The fellow has fed on husks long enough, and, as the scripter says, he is goin’ to rise and go to his dad.”

“Do not let my father see me,—­anything, rather than that!” exclaimed Vernon, rising, and grasping the woodman’s arm.  “I am a great villain!”

“That’s very true, stranger; but you have got into the scrape, and the best thing you can do is to get out on’t.”

“How can I!”

“Be an honest man.”

“I fear I never can be that.”

“Try it!  There is something left of you.”

At this moment Dr. Vaudelier entered the room.  His aspect was stern and forbidding, and the son buried his face in his hands after the first glance at him.

“Jerome,” said he, “you will bring my gray hairs with sorrow down to the grave.”

“Easy with him, doctor, easy!  He is a little touched, and, if you manage him right, you can fotch him over.  He is under conviction now.  Don’t let on yet!”

“Jerome, this is a sorry visit you have made me,” continued the doctor.  “Are you entirely lost to all shame, that you could thus enter my house with a band of ruffians behind you?”

“Father,” said the convicted Vernon, “I did not know it was your house, or I could never have done it.”

“Alas, that a son of mine should have become a midnight assassin!” and Dr. Vaudelier covered his face with his hands, and sobbed like a child.

“Forgive me, father!” exclaimed the repentant son.  “Forgive me!”

“God and your country alone can forgive crimes like yours!”

“Easy with him, doctor!” interposed Jerry, fearful lest the son’s repentance should be dissipated before the father’s sternness.

“I will atone for all, to the best of my ability.”

“Would that you might do so!”

“I will!  Heaven witness my sincerity!”

“Your first act of atonement must be to the lady you have so deeply injured.”

“I would be her slave for life!”

“If you are sincere, you will disclose all you know of the wrongs which have been inflicted upon her.”