face his eyes were fixed as if by a kind of fascination.
"Are you in much pain, my poor boy!" sobbed the old man, stooping over him, until his long white hair mingled with the damp locks of the sufferer.
"Not much, father," was the whispered reply. "Don't speak of this to mother, yet. I'm afraid it will kill her."
What could the father answer? Nothing! And he was silent.
"Does she know of it?" A shadow went over his face.
Mr. Hammond shook his head.
Yet, even as he spoke, a wild cry of distress was heard below. Some indiscreet person had borne to the ears of the mother the fearful news about her son, and she had come wildly flying toward the tavern, and was just entering.
"It is my poor mother," said Willy, a flush coming into his pale face. "Who could have told her of this?"
