"No, I don't," said she. "What do you mean? I don't know what place is fit for you that isn't fit for your girl."
"I must go back where I came from."
Miss Ross started with surprise; it almost seemed that she frowned. It was only a cloud of doubt as to what he could mean, that came over her face.
"Judge Forrest would certainly have interest enough to secure a situation for me," he went on. "I should occupy ground there that nobody—nobody—not even a child! could dispute. I can't stay here. I cannot go among strangers and make a proclamation that shall hinder people from—you know, Ross. I'm not going to begin to live on false pretences at this time of day."
Miss Ross said, " I never thought of anything like that."
She seemed to allude to the prospect he had suggested of an occupied future; but it was not quite clear to Joseph what she did mean.
"I must do what I can in the way of reparation," said he; "but some debts can't be paid. That is the worst thing. It is clear that there is only one place for me. If I went abroad it would be equivalent to running away—from a bad reputation. I can't do that. If those poor fellows I left behind me ever rouse up enough to feel anything like ambition, or hope, they don't get far, any of them before they are laid low. It's all right, of course. How could it be any other way, as things are? You can't imagine how the world is changed to a man when he comes back from—" Here he stopped, and when, with an effort, he resumed speech, he did not finish the sentence. "I was able to help a good many of my neighbors there during the latter part of my stay," said he, humbly. "A man has a terrible time when he comes to himself there, if he don't get what he needs, it's sure death to him—to the best of him, I mean."
"I can see that, Joseph."
"But what can I do with Margaret?"
The expression he had given to his secret purpose seemed to have established him in it.
"Ask her."
"That is it. Ought I to ask her? What if she should say that she would go with me? I am afraid she would."
"Ask her," said Miss Ross again.
"But—she said this afternoon, where thou goest, I will go."
"She will go where you go. She ought to. When you decide for yourself, Joseph, just think that you are deciding for her, too."
"I cannot take her there."
"But if you must go, Joseph, you must. Let the Lord look after Margaret."
That was all Miss Ross could say. How many times would he need to hear her say it?
Mr. Hazard went back to the prison. He saw that he must. And the Lord did take care of Margaret. He sent her along with her father. She lived between the prison and her grandfather's house until Judge Forrest died, and then her way was clear, and she walked in it.
Hazard has held his place as superintendent for many years; and many a convict has passed from beneath his overseership into the world, a good citizen, built up and established in true manliness. It is likely that Margaret Hazard will never crave higher honor than she believes accrues to her from the mere fact that she is her father's daughter, and fellow minister.
