CHAP. V.
The time had now arrived when Henry was to be freed from his troubles,and to obtain a satisfactory victory over malignity and base design.On the evening after his father had taken leave of him, and when he,in company with his friend George, was sitting at his bed-room window,admiring the beauties of the setting sun, and enjoying the calmness ofthe surrounding scenery, an unusual noise was heard upon the stairs.Henry instantly rose from his seat and opened the door, when in rushedlittle Ned, breathless, and almost speechless. He had his hairy cap inhis hand, and had contrived to run one of his legs through his longpin-afore, as he made his way up the stairs. His face was far more redthan usual, and full of anxiety.
--its all found out!--the thief is found out.
_page 75._]
"What is the matter, Ned?" said Henry as he entered: "you seem in ahurry."
"In a hurry!" Ned replied, gasping for breath: "in a hurry! Why, it'sall found out!" said he, waving his cap over his head.
"What is found out?" asked George, laughing heartily at Ned's grotesqueappearance. "Look at your leg through your pin-afore."
"Never mind," said he: "Kitty will mend that. But it is all found out!the _thief_ is found out." As he uttered these words, he seized Henryby the hand, who, with George and himself, hastened down stairs, Nedrepeating all the way, "It's all found out! _I_ have found him out!"He dragged them both into the school-room, where most of the boys wereassembled. Dr. Harris, who was disturbed by the noise, also followed;and, upon his entering, Ned called out, with a loud voice, "I chargeyou, Charles Greene, with stealing Scott's money, and will prove it!"
Greene started, as though he had seen something unnatural. "I,--I," wasall he could articulate, and he turned as white as possible.
"Yes," says Ned, "I have just been into Dame Birch's, the pie-woman,who said that you had then been to pay the money you owed her, and thatshe was very glad she had got clear of you."
He then related to Dr. Harris, the conversation he had had with thepie-woman about ten minutes before. "As I was walking to the shop,Sir," he said, "I saw Greene take his leave, when he was busilythrusting something into his pockets, I went into the shop, and Mrs.Birch told me that Greene had just paid her the remainder of his debt.I asked what debt it was; and she told me that it had been owing a longtime: that, about a month ago, he went there and changed a sovereign,and paid her eight shillings out of fourteen he owed her; and that hewished the whole of the sovereign had belonged to himself, but it didnot; for one of the other boys was to have half, as he had been withhim when he had found it."
Greene, who had by this time in some measure recovered from his firstshock, here interrupted Ned by saying, "I never told her so: I saidmy father gave it to me, which he did. He told me that my uncle fromLondon had called and left it for me."
Ned declared he had told Dr. Harris the truth, and every word that DameBirch had said, except that she added, "I believe I should never havegot the money, if I had not threatened to go to his master."
Dame Birch was now sent for, and confirmed what little Ned had stated;and in answer to a question from Dr. Harris, why she allowed the boysto get so much in debt? said, that she could not help it with Greene,for he would have what he chose; but that it was not all for cakes:part of it was payment for two squares of glass, which he broke whenfighting, one day, with another boy.
During the interview, Henry and George, and one or two of theirschool-fellows, hastened to Mr. Greene's house, (for he fortunatelylived at a short distance from the village,) to have his son's accounteither confirmed or denied. On their reaching the door, they knockedwith great authority; and upon the servant's opening it, they demandedto see his master immediately, as they had some very important businesswith him. The servant informed Mr. Greene of their visit, and he cameout of the parlour and demanded what business they could have with him;when George said, "Sir, we have taken the liberty to call upon you, toknow whether you gave your son Charles a sovereign about a month ago.
"Gave him what?" said the old gentleman: "gave him a sovereign! Not I,indeed: I hope I know better what to do with my money. His mother mighthave given him six-pence or so; but we should never think of giving himany thing like a sovereign."
He then returned into the parlour, and they heard him ask Mrs. Greene,if she knew of Charles's having a sovereign about a month ago, when sheanswered, "No, my dear."
This was quite satisfactory to Henry and his friends; and withoutwaiting any further ceremony, they started off for the school.
In the mean time Greene, having ascertained that they were gone to hisfather's to make enquiry, had confessed that it was he who had stolenthe money out of Scott's box; and when they returned, he was surroundedby all the boys, who were upbraiding and taunting him with his villany.His own friends too were against him; and, from shame and agitation ofmind, he looked most wretchedly.
It is impossible to describe the scene which now took place in theschool-room. Henry, whose mind was relieved from the depressionoccasioned by this disgraceful charge, was caressed and congratulatedby every boy in the school. Mrs. Harris kissed him affectionately,and said she felt confident of his innocence from the first, and hadnever despaired of its being made evident. Juliana and Eliza were alsoamongst the first to bestow their approbation upon his conduct. Georgeand little Ned were delighted beyond measure to see their friend oncemore made happy, and hoped soon to have him as the chief in theiryouthful sports.
But it was far different with Greene, who now felt all the wretchednessof one convicted of theft, and detected in basely attaching thedisgraceful charge to an innocent and praiseworthy lad. He had takenhis seat at the extremity of the school-room, and was hiding his facein his hands; and though a boy of wonderful spirits and strong nerve,was now bathed in tears, and sobbing aloud. Dr. Harris, who had beengiving him a very severe lecture, still stood over him, impressing uponhim the necessity of retiring into his room, to seek from God thatforgiveness in prayer and repentance, which, he too much feared, wouldnot be easily obtained from his offended and disgusted school-fellows.He now, therefore, arose, and made his way towards the door, in doingwhich he had again to encounter the execrations and pointed fingers ofthe boys, who cried, as he passed them, "Go, thou thief!" and followedhim until they saw him enter the house.
Henry, however, was the only lad who did not upbraid him; for, thoughGreene had behaved in so disgraceful a manner towards him, he could notbut feel distressed to see him appear almost brokenhearted. He stillremembered, in the midst of his joy, that but a few hours had elapsedsince he felt all the wretchedness of one _supposed_ to be guilty oftheft. "What then," he said to himself, "must be the feelings ofhim who stands _convicted_ of the crime, and therefore has not theconsciousness of innocence to support him? I cannot find in my heart toupbraid him," he said, as he took George and Ned by the hand and ledthem across the lawn.
They continued their walk until bed-time, when they returned, and Henryagain experienced the sweets of a good night's rest, the sure reward ofintegrity.
"What shall I do?" "I will leave the School"
_page 85_]
Greene, on the contrary, was now distressed beyond measure: his nightwas restless and unrefreshing; and as the time was fast approachingwhen he must again face his master and his school-fellows, remorse anddread had taken possession of his mind, and he felt as if he had notstrength to dress himself. "What shall I do?" he exclaimed, as heagain threw himself across the bed: "I cannot enter the school-room,nor face my school-fellows; for I know they must despise me. I, whohave hitherto taken the lead in the school, and have done as I chosewith the boys, am now to be pointed at and spurned by the least inthe place. I will leave the school directly," he added, rising fromthe bed, and making another attempt to dress: "I will leave theschool directly, and hasten to my uncle's in London." With this rashdetermination he concluded, when, taking up his jacket, he discovered,upon the back of it, that which had before escaped his notice, thewords "THIEF" and "LIAR," in
large characters. This fresh assaultcut him to the heart. He dropped the coat, and fell upon his kneesat the foot of the bed, praying aloud to his Maker for forgiveness,and promising never to offend in the like manner again. He concludedby exclaiming, in great agitation: "Where shall I find a friend toplead for me? and to whom, among my school-fellows, can I now look forsupport?"
"To me! to me!" cried Henry, who was passing his chamber at the time,and whose kind heart overflowed with pity at the distressed bewailingsof this repentant boy. "I will be your friend, and seek forgivenessfrom your school-fellows. Though you have grossly injured me, I cannot,must not bear malice. Dr. Harris tells us we should forget and forgive."
"And do _you_ forgive me, Henry?" he exclaimed: "can you forgive onewho has acted so basely towards you?"
"I can and do," he answered, "and will beg of Dr. Harris to forgive youalso." He then seized him by the hand, and, half undressed as he was,with his coat under his arm, and his eyes swollen with crying, he drewhim to the school-room, where Dr. Harris had just taken his seat. Ashe made his way towards the desk, the boys were greatly surprised, andwondered when they heard Henry ask Dr. Harris to forgive him. "I foundhim, Sir," continued Henry, "upon his knees, asking forgiveness of theAlmighty, and making promises of future amendment. I therefore, as faras I am concerned, heartily forgive him, and I hope, Sir, you will dothe same."
Dr. Harris then addressed Greene in his most impressive manner,telling him that he was glad to find he was made sensible of hiserror; and was also happy to see him so full of contrition: adding,"that, as it is the sincere wish of Henry, to whom you ought to befor ever grateful, I am willing to think no more of this matter. Butit is not to me, so much as to your school-fellows, you need look forforgiveness; and to them you ought to apply, as being the partiesoffended."
Henry then took him down the school, and by his earnest entreaties andpathetic address, obtained his pardon.
Greene now retired, and in a short time returned to his lessons,somewhat happier than when he arose, but still depressed by shame.
The next day Mr. Wardour returned, and had the felicity to find his sonrestored to health and happiness. When he heard of his acquittal, andof his noble conduct in obtaining pardon for Greene, he pressed himto his bosom, and almost shed tears of joy. He then exhorted him to bealways grateful for this providential discovery of his innocence, andto let all the future actions of his life be governed by the same nobleprinciples as he had followed upon this trying occasion. After makinga present to George and little Ned, for their friendly conduct towardshis son, he obtained a holiday for the whole school, and took his leave.
Mr. Greene, upon hearing of his son's conduct, would have severelypunished him, had not Dr. Harris assured him of his contrition, andbegged of him to inflict no further chastisement than he had alreadyreceived from his little school-follows. He therefore contented himselfwith making Scott a handsome present.
Mrs. Harris and her daughters had been lately busy in relieving thefamily of poor Martha Watson, whom the late circumstances had broughtunder their notice. The husband, by this good lady's well-timedattendance, had now recovered his health, and had gone to work, whilethe children were clothed and made decent in their appearance; andtheir mother never failed to bless the names of Henry and George, andto thank that Providence which had directed them to her cottage.
Greene still continued in a gloomy state, when he was happily relievedfrom it by his uncle prevailing upon his father to let him go a voyageto the East Indies with him; and, in less than a month, he departedfrom that place, which had now become irksome to him; but not withoutfirst being well convinced, that "_honesty is the best policy_."
Henry and George still continued to be beloved by their school-fellows;and each remained happy in the possession of a good conscience.
THE END.
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Transcriber's Note:
Some punctuation has been silently altered.
The following words have been changed.
determined is now determined Goerge is now George
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