CHAPTER XX

IN WHICH HARRY PASSES THROUGH HIS SEVEREST TRIAL, AND ACHIEVES HIS GREATEST TRIUMPH

Three years may appear to be a great while to the little pilgrim through life's vicissitudes; but they soon pass away and are as "a tale that is told." To note all the events of Harry's experience through this period would require another volume; therefore I can only tell the reader what he was, and what results he had achieved in that time. It was filled with trials and temptations, not all of which were overcome without care and privation. Often he failed, was often disappointed, and often was pained to see how feebly the Spirit warred against the Flesh.

He loved money, and avarice frequently prompted him to do those things which would have wrecked his bright hopes. That vision of the grandeur and influence of the rich man's position sometimes deluded him, causing him to forget at times that the soul would live forever, while the body and its treasures would perish in the grave. As he grew older, he reasoned more; his principles became more firmly fixed; and the object of existence assumed a more definite character. He was an attentive student, and every year not only made him wiser, but better. I do not mean to say that Harry was a remarkably good boy, that his character was perfect, or anything of the kind. He meant well, and tried to do well, and he did not struggle in vain against the trials and temptations that beset him. I dare say those with whom he associated did not consider him much better than themselves. It is true, he did not swear, did not frequent the haunts of vice and dissipation, did not spend his Sundays riding about the country; yet he had his faults, and captious people did not fail to see them.

He was still with Wake & Wade, though he was a salesman now, on a salary of five dollars a week. He still boarded with Mrs. Flint, though Edward was no longer his room-mate. A year had been sufficient to disgust his "fast" companion with the homely fare and homely quarters of his father's house; and, as his salary was now eight dollars a week, he occupied a room in the attic of a first-class hotel.

Harry was sixteen years old, and he had three hundred dollars in the Savings Bank. He might have had more if he had not so carefully watched and guarded against the sin of avarice. He gave some very handsome sums to the various public charities, as well as expended them in relieving distress wherever it presented itself. It is true, it was sometimes very hard work to give of his earnings to relieve the poor; and if he had acted in conformity with the nature he had inherited, he might never have known that it was "more blessed to give than to receive." As he grew older, and the worth of money was more apparent, he was tempted to let the poor and the unfortunate take care of themselves; but the struggle of duty with parsimony rendered his gifts all the more worthy.

Joe Flint had several times violated his solemn resolution to drink no more ardent spirits; but Harry, who was his friend and confidant, encouraged him, when he failed, to try again; and it was now nearly a year since he had been on a "spree."

Our hero occasionally heard from Rockville; and a few months before the event we are about to narrate he had spent the pleasantest week of his life with Julia Bryant, amid those scenes which were so full of interest to both of them. As he walked through the woods where he had first met the "little angel"--she had now grown to be a tall girl--he could not but recall the events of that meeting. It was there that he first began to live, in the true sense of the word. It was there that he had been born into a new sphere of moral existence.

Julia was still his friend, still his guiding star. Though the freedom of childish intimacy had been diminished, the same heart resided in each, and each felt the same interest in the other. The correspondence between them had been almost wholly suspended, perhaps by the interference of the "powers" at Rockville, and perhaps by the growing sense of the "fitness of things" in the parties. But they occasionally met, which amply compensated for the deprivations which propriety demanded.

But I must pass on to the closing event of my story--it was Harry's severest trial, yet it resulted in his most signal triumph.

Edward Flint was always short of money. He lived extravagantly, and his increased salary was insufficient to meet his wants. When Harry saw him drive a fast horse through the streets on Sundays, and heard him say how often he went to the theatre, what balls and parties he attended--when he observed how elegantly he dressed, and that he wore a gold chain, a costly breastpin and several rings--he did not wonder that he was "short." He lived like a prince, and it seemed as though eight dollars a week would be but a drop in the bucket in meeting his expenses.

One day, in his extremity, he applied to Harry for the loan of five dollars. Our hero did not like to encourage his extravagance, but he was good-natured, and could not well avoid doing the favor, especially as Edward wanted the money to pay his board. However, he made it the occasion for a friendly remonstrance, and gave the spendthrift youth some excellent advice. Edward was vexed at the lecture; but, as he obtained the loan, he did not resent the kindly act.

About a fortnight after, Edward paid him the money. It consisted of a two-dollar bill and six half dollars. Harry was about to make a further application of his views of duty to his friend's case, when Edward impatiently interrupted him, telling him that, as he had got his money, he need not preach. This was just before Harry went home to dinner.

On his return Mr. Wake called him into the private office, and when they had entered he closed and locked the door. Harry regarded this as rather a singular proceeding; but, possessing the entire confidence of his employers, it gave him no uneasiness.

"Harry," Mr. Wake began, "we have been losing money from the store for the last year or more. I have missed small sums a great many times."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Harry, not knowing whether he was regarded as a confidant or as the suspected person.

"To-day I gave a friend of mine several marked coins, with which he purchased some goods. These coins have all been stolen."

"Is it possible, sir!"

"Now, we have four salesmen besides yourself. Which stole it?"

"I can form no idea, sir," returned Harry. "I can only speak for myself."

"Oh, well, I had no suspicion it was you," added Mr. Wade, with a smile. "I am going to try the same experiment again; and I want you to keep your eyes on the money drawer all the rest of the afternoon."

"I will do so, sir."

Mr. Wade took several silver coins from his pocket and scratched them in such a way that they could be readily identified, and then dismissed Harry, with the injunction to be very vigilant.

When he came out of the office he perceived that Edward and Charles Wallis were in close conversation.

"I say, Harry, what's in the wind?" asked the former, as our hero returned to his position behind the counter.

Harry evaded answering the question, and the other two salesmen, who were very intimate and whose tastes and amusements were very much alike, continued their conversation. They were evidently aware that something unusual had occurred, or was about to occur.

Soon after, a person appeared at the counter and purchased a dozen spools of cotton, offering two half dollars in payment. Harry kept his eye upon the money drawer, but nothing was discovered. From what he knew of Edward's mode of life, he was prepared to believe that he was the guilty person.

The experiment was tried for three days in succession before any result was obtained. The coins were always found in the drawer; but on the fourth day, when they were very busy, and there was a great deal of money in the drawer, Harry distinctly observed Edward, while making change, take several coins from the till. The act appalled him; he forgot the customer to whose wants he was attending, and hastened to inform Mr. Wake of the discovery.

"Where are you going, Harry?" asked Edward, as he passed him.

"Only to the office," replied he; and his appearance and manner might have attracted the attention of any skillful rogue.

"Come, Harry, don't leave your place," added Edward, playfully grasping him by the collar, on his return.

"Don't stop to fool, Edward," answered Harry, as he shook him off and took his place at the counter again.

He was very absent-minded the rest of the forenoon, and his frame shook with agitation as he heard Mr. Wake call Edward shortly after. But he trembled still more when he was summoned also, for it was very unpleasant business.

"Of course, you will not object to letting me see the contents of your pockets, Edward," said Mr. Wake, as Harry entered the office.

"Certainly not, sir;" and he turned every one of his pockets inside out.

Not one of the decoy pieces was found upon him, or any other coins, for that matter; he had no money. Mr. Wake was confused, for he fully expected to convict the culprit on the spot.

"I suppose I am indebted to this young man for this," continued Edward, with a sneer. "I'll bet five dollars he stole the money himself, if any has been stolen. Why don't you search him?"

"Search me, sir, by all means," added Harry; and he began to turn his pockets out.

From his vest pocket he took out a little parcel wrapped in a shop bill.

"What's that?" said Edward.

"I don't know. I wasn't aware that there was any such thing in my pocket."

"I suppose not," sneered Edward.

"But you seem to know more about it than Edward," remarked Mr. Wade, as he took the parcel.

"I know nothing about it."

The senior opened the wrapper, and to his surprise and sorrow found it contained two of the marked coins. But he was not disposed hastily to condemn Harry. He could not believe him capable of stealing; besides, there was something in Edward's manner which seemed to indicate that our hero was the victim of a conspiracy.

"As he has been so very generous towards me, Mr. Wake," interposed Edward, "I will suggest a means by which you may satisfy yourself. My mother keeps Harry's money for him, and perhaps, if you look it over, you will find more marked pieces."

"Mr. Wake, I'm innocent," protested Harry, when he had in some measure recovered from the first shock of the heavy blow. "I never stole a cent from anybody."

"I don't believe you ever did, Harry. But can you explain how this money happened to be in your pocket?"

"I cannot, sir. If you wish to look at my money, Mrs. Flint will show it to you."

"Perhaps I had better."

"Don't let him go with you, though," said Edward, maliciously.

Mr. Wake wrote an order to Mrs. Flint, requesting her to exhibit the money, and Harry signed it. The senior then hastened to Avery Street.

"Now, Master Spy!" sneered Edward, when he had gone. "So you have been watching me, I thought as much."

"I only did what Mr. Wade told me to do," replied Harry, exceedingly mortified at the turn the investigation had taken.

"Humph! That is the way with you psalm-singers. Steal yourself, and lay it to me!"

"I did not steal. I never stole in my life."

"Wait and see."

In about half an hour Mr. Wake returned.

"I am sorry, Harry, to find that I have been mistaken in you. Is it possible that one who is outwardly so correct in his habits should be a thief? But your career is finished," said he, very sternly, as he entered the office.

"Nothing strange to the rest of us," added Edward. "I never knew one yet who pretended to be so pious that did not turn out a rascal."

"And such a hypocrite!"

"Mr. Wake, I am neither a thief nor a hypocrite," replied Harry, with spirit.

"I found four of the coins--four half dollars--which I marked first, at Mrs. Flint's," said the senior, severely.

Harry was astounded. Those half dollars were part of the money paid him by Edward, and he so explained how they came in his possession.

"Got them from me!" exclaimed Edward, with well-feigned surprise. "I never borrowed a cent of him in my life; and, of course, never paid him a cent."

Harry looked at Edward, amazed at the coolness with which he uttered the monstrous lie. He questioned him in regard to the transaction, but the young reprobate reiterated his declaration with so much force and art that Mr. Wake was effectually deceived.

Our hero, conscious of his innocence, however strong appearances were against him, behaved with considerable spirit, which so irritated Mr. Wake that he sent for a constable, and Harry soon found himself in Leverett Street Jail. Strange as it may seem to my young friends, he was not very miserable there. He was innocent, and he depended upon that special Providence which had before befriended him to extricate him from the difficulty. It is true, he wondered what Julia would say when she heard of his misfortune. She would weep and grieve; and he was sad when he thought of her. But she would be the more rejoiced when she learned that he was innocent. The triumph would be in proportion to the trial.

On the following day he was brought up for examination. As his name was called, the propriety of the court was suddenly disturbed by an exclamation of surprise from an elderly man, with sun-browned face and monstrous whiskers.

"Who is he?" almost shouted the elderly man, regardless of the dignity of the court.

An officer was on the point of turning him out; but his earnest manner saved him. Pushing his way forward to Mr. Wake, he questioned him in regard to the youthful prisoner.

"Strange! I thought he was dead!" muttered the elderly man, in the most intense excitement.

The examination proceeded. Harry had a friend who had not been idle, as the sequel will show.

Mr. Wake first testified to the facts we have already related, and the lawyer, whom Harry's friends had provided, questioned him in regard to the prisoner's character and antecedents. Edward Flint was then called. He was subjected to a severe cross-examination by Harry's counsel, in which he repeatedly denied that he had ever borrowed or paid any money to the accused.

Mr. Wade was the next witness. While the events preceding Harry's arrest were transpiring, he had been absent from the city, but had returned early in the afternoon. He disagreed with his partner in relation to our hero's guilt, and immediately set himself to work to unmask the conspiracy, for such he was persuaded it was.

He testified that, a short time before, Edward had requested him to pay him his salary two days before it was due, assigning as a reason the fact that he owed Harry five dollars, which he wished to pay. He produced two of the marked half dollars, which he had received from Edward's landlady.

Of course, Edward was utterly confounded; and, to add to his confusion, he was immediately called to the stand again. This time his coolness was gone; he crossed himself a dozen times, and finally acknowledged, under the pressure of the skillful lawyer's close questioning, that Harry was innocent. He had paid him the money found in Mrs. Flint's possession, and had slipped the coins wrapped in the shop bills into his pocket when he took him by the collar on his return from the office.

He had known for some time that the partners were on the watch for the thief. He had heard them talking about the matter; but he supposed he had managed the case so well as to exonerate himself and implicate Harry, whom he hated for being a good boy.

Harry was discharged. His heart swelled with gratitude for the kindly interposition of Providence. The trial was past--the triumph had come.

Mr. Wake, Mr. Wade, and other friends, congratulated him on the happy termination of the affair; and while they were so engaged the elderly man elbowed his way through the crowd to the place where Harry stood.

"Young man, what is your father's name?" he asked, in tones tremulous with emotion.

"I have no father," replied Harry.

"You had a father--what was his name?"

"Franklin West; a carpenter by trade. He went from Redfield to Valparaiso when I was very young, and we never heard anything from him."

"My son!" exclaimed the stranger, grasping our hero by the hand, while the tears rolled down his brown visage.

Harry did not know what to make of this announcement.

"Is it possible that you are my father?" asked he.

"I am, Harry; but I was sure you were dead. I got a letter, informing me that your mother and the baby had gone; and about a year after I met a man from Rockville who told me that you had died also."

"It was a mistake."

They continued the conversation as they walked from the court room to the store. There was a long story for each to tell. Mr. West confessed that, for two years after his arrival at Valparaiso, he had accomplished very little. He drank hard, and brought on a fever, which had nearly carried him off. But that fever was a blessing in disguise; and since his recovery he had been entirely temperate. He had nothing to send to his family, and shame prevented him from even writing to his wife. He received the letter which conveyed the intelligence of the death of his wife and child, and soon after learned that his remaining little one was also gone.

Carpenters were then in great demand in Valparaiso. He was soon in a condition to take contracts, and fortune smiled upon him. He had rendered himself independent, and had now returned to spend his remaining days in his native land. He had been in Boston a week, and happened to stray into the Police Court, where he had found the son who, he supposed, had long ago been laid in the grave.

Edward Flint finished his career of "fashionable dissipation" by being sentenced to the house of correction. Just before he was sent over, he confessed to Mr. Wade that it was he who had stolen Harry's money, three years before.

The next day Harry obtained leave of absence, for the purpose of accompanying his father on a visit to Redfield. He was in exuberant spirits. It seemed as though his cup of joy was full. He could hardly realize that he had a father--a kind, affectionate father--who shared the joy of his heart.

They went to Redfield; but I cannot stop to tell my readers how astonished Squire Walker, and Mr. Nason, and the paupers were, to see the spruce young clerk come to his early home, attended by his father--a rich father, too.

We can follow our hero no farther through the highways and byways of his life-pilgrimage. We have seen him struggle like a hero through trial and temptation, and come off conqueror in the end. He has found a rich father, who crowns his lot with plenty; but his true wealth is in those good principles which the trials, no less than the triumphs, of his career have planted in his soul.