“My dear Mrs. Bradshaw, don’t you agitate yourself in this way.  I never meant to prosecute him.”

“But Mr. Bradshaw says that you must.”

“I shall not, indeed.  I have told Mr. Bradshaw so.”

“Has he been here?  Oh! is not he cruel?  I don’t care.  I have been a good wife till now.  I know I have.  I have done all he bid me, ever since we were married.  But now I will speak my mind, and say to everybody how cruel he is—­how hard to his own flesh and blood!  If he puts poor Dick in prison, I will go too.  If I’m to choose between my husband and my son, I choose my son; for he will have no friends, unless I am with him.”

“Mr. Bradshaw will think better of it.  You will see that, when his first anger and disappointment are over, he will not be hard or cruel.”

“You don’t know Mr. Bradshaw,” said she mournfully, “if you think he’ll change.  I might beg and beg—­I have done many a time, when we had little children, and I wanted to save them a whipping—­but no begging ever did any good.  At last I left it off.  He’ll not change.”

“Perhaps not for human entreaty.  Mrs. Bradshaw, is there nothing more powerful?”

The tone of his voice suggested what he did not say.

“If you mean that God may soften his heart,” replied she humbly, “I’m not going to deny God’s power—­I have need to think of Him,” she continued, bursting into fresh tears, “for I am a very miserable woman.  Only think! he cast it up against me last night, and said, if I had not spoilt Dick this never would have happened.”

“He hardly knew what he was saying last night.  I will go to Mr. Farquhar’s directly, and see him; and you had better go home, my dear Mrs. Bradshaw; you may rely upon our doing all that we can.”

With some difficulty he persuaded her not to accompany him to Mr. Farquhar’s; but he had, indeed, to take her to her own door, before he could convince her that, at present, she could do nothing but wait the result of the consultations of others.

It was before breakfast, and Mr. Farquhar was alone; so Mr. Benson had a quiet opportunity of telling the whole story to the husband before the wife came down.  Mr. Farquhar was not much surprised, though greatly distressed.  The general opinion he had always entertained of Richard’s character had predisposed him to fear, even before the inquiry respecting the Insurance shares.  But it was still a shock when it came, however much it might have been anticipated.

“What can we do?” said Mr. Benson, as Mr. Farquhar sat gloomily silent.

“That is just what I was asking myself.  I think I must see Mr. Bradshaw, and try and bring him a little out of this unmerciful frame of mind.  That must be the first thing.  Will you object to accompany me at once?  It seems of particular consequence that we should subdue its obduracy before the affair gets wind.”