'Dr. Leatrim's was not a spirit to brook delay. As stern as Brutus, like Brutus he could be as unflinching in the performance of his duty. He called Ralph into the study, and after carefully closing the door, addressed him in a voice hoarse with emotion:

'"Ralph, the church has been entered, the poor's box opened, and money to the amount of twenty pounds been abstracted. My dear old friend," he continued, grasping his hand, "can you throw any light upon this dreadful transaction?"

'The old man was as much agitated as his master. A deadly pallor overspread his face, and tears came into his eyes. "The church entered! money stolen to such a large amount! My dear sir, can it be possible?"

'"Only too true. But the thief, Ralph; who can be the thief? It must be some one well acquainted with the premises, who could gain access to the key, and must have known the secret of the lock. It is this which distresses me—that fills my mind with the keenest anguish." He looked hard at the old man—not a look of suspicion, but one of intense inquiry, as if he depended upon his answer to solve his doubts.

'Ralph trembled visibly. His voice became a broken sob. "Oh, my dear, my honoured master, you cannot surely suspect me, your old and faithful servant?"

'"I would as soon suspect myself!"

'The old man continued, in a deprecating tone: "You know, your reverence, that money is no object to me. I have neither wife, nor child, and my wants are liberally supplied by you. I shall have to leave you the money saved in your service, for the want of an heir; and I generally give half my wages to the poor through that very box, being more anxious to lay up for myself treasures in heaven than upon earth."

'"Yes, yes, I know all this, my good Ralph," cried the Doctor impatiently; "your character is above suspicion. I want you to give me some clue by which the real culprit could be brought to justice."

'The old man cast a hasty glance at his master, as if he could do so if he pleased, but remained silent.

'The look did not escape Doctor Leatrim's keen eye. "Speak, Ralph!
Speak out like a man. I feel certain that you know something about it."

'"And suppose I do,"—he came a step nearer to his master, and spoke in low, mysterious tones,—"that something had better remain unsaid. You are a rich man; twenty or thirty pounds are nothing to you. You gave twice that sum last week to get Hall out of jail; replace the money, and depend upon my word that the felony will never be repeated."

'"And let the culprit escape without the punishment due to his crime— and such a crime! Would that be just, old man?"

'"It would be merciful," returned Ralph, drily. "A knowledge of the truth would do no good; it would only make your reverence unhappy."

'"I must not consult my own feelings on the subject," said the Rector, greatly excited. "No; though the felon were my son, who is dearer to me than my own life, and I could effectually conceal his guilt, he should pay the penalty due to his crime."

'The old man shuddered and drew back a few paces. "Your reverence has made a pretty shrewd guess. It was Master George!"

'"George? my George?" The Doctor sank into his study chair. He grasped at the arms convulsively. His broad chest heaved and panted, his breath came in hoarse gasps. He was too much stunned to speak. Ralph poured out a glass of water, and held it to his white and rigid lips.

'"'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.' The Lord help and comfort you, my dear master, under this heavy affliction. We are all liable to temptation. Try and forgive your son."

'"My son! Never call him my son again. I disown him—cast him off for ever. George, George, this will kill me! I loved and trusted you so much—would have given my life to save yours any day—and you have disgraced my name and calling, and broken my heart.—But are you sure, old man?" he cried, clutching Ralph by the shoulder; "sure that my George did this horrible thing?"

'"For God's sake, sir, moderate your anger. Master George is very young; he may never do the like again."

'"That is no answer to my question," cried the wretched father, tightening his grasp upon the old man's arm. "I do not ask you to palliate his guilt. It admits of no excuse. Did you see him do it? Tell me that—tell me quickly. I am in no humour for trifling."

'"Ay, seeing is believing," said the old man, sullenly. "As your reverence knows the worst, it is of no use hiding the details. I saw Master George take the money."

'The Doctor groaned in anguish of spirit.

'"How—when—where did you see him do it? May you not have been mistaken?"

'"Impossible, sir. I would not advance a thing of this nature without I had positive proof. I repeat to you again, on my word of honour, on the faith of a Christian, that I saw him do it. What more do you require?"

'"It is enough," sighed the miserable father, covering his face with his hands. "George, George! my son, my only son; have I deserved this at your hands? The trial is too great for flesh and blood to bear. O my God! my just and righteous God! Thou hast shattered my idol of clay to pieces, and my heart lies broken and trampled in the dust. Ralph, tell the wretched boy to come to me directly."

'The old man hesitated. "Not while you are in this excited state, my dear master. Wait a while, until your passion calms down; it is apt to betray you into sin. I implore you to deal leniently with the lad. Remember it is his first offence. He may repent, and you may save your son."

'"Yes; if I could believe that it was his first offence. The same thing happened at Christmas. He has become hardened in successful villany. The crime is not against me alone; it is against the Church, and must be punished accordingly. Don't raise your hands in that deprecating manner, Ralph, or attempt to plead for him," and he stamped his foot impatiently; "I must and will be obeyed. Why do you loiter, old man? Go for him directly."

'Just then a rap came to the door.

'Ralph opened it, for he knew the step, and the accused stood before them, smiling and serene, unconscious of the thunder-clouds that lowered above his head. He advanced a few paces into the room, then stood still. His eyes wandered from his father's death-pale face to the downcast countenance of the old serving-man. Surprised and distressed, he wondered what it could mean. His mother had been confined to her chamber for some days with a serious attack of lung disease. The doctor had just seen her, and pronounced her out of danger; he came to bring the glad tidings to his father. The first thought that struck him was, that anxiety about her had produced the dreadful agitation that his father, with all his stoical philosophy, found it impossible to restrain, and which was so painful for him to witness. He hurried to his side. "Don't be alarmed, my dear father, mamma is better. She sent me to tell you so, and that she wishes to see you for a few minutes."

'He met the stern severity of Dr. Leatrim's glance; it chilled him to the heart He drew back, regarding him in wondering surprise.

'"What is the matter, my father? Something dreadful has happened. Are you ill?"

'"Yes, sir, I am ill—sick at heart—sick of a malady that will bring my grey hairs in sorrow to the grave. My wound is incurable, and the hand of a wicked son has dealt the blow."

'"Father! what do you mean? I do not understand these terrible words;" and the boy raised the calm, inquiring glance of his clear, candid eyes to the father's clouded brow and rigid face. "In what manner can I have offended you?"

'"Miserable boy, if you had only offended me, I could bear it and forgive you; but you have committed a crime against God—a crime so great, that the felon who will be hung next week at N—— for murder is innocent in comparison."

'George gazed steadily into his father's face as he said slowly, and with blanched and quivering lips, "What have I done?"

'"Robbed the poor! Stolen thirty pounds in gold from that box" (pointing to the poor's box on the table before him); "and you dare to ask me what you have done, and, knowing your guilt, to raise your hardened eyes to mine!"

'The hot blood rushed in a crimson tide into the face of the accused; he drew up his slight figure to its full height, and looked a man in the strength of his indignation. "The guilty alone are cowards," he said, softening the vehemence of his manner; "it is only truth that dare look at justice without quailing. If I am guilty of the crime of which you accuse me, father, I am no longer worthy to be your son. Who, then, is my accuser? Who charges me with the guilt of a crime so base? Who dares to tell me to my face that I did this foul wrong?"

'"One who saw you do it."

'"The man does not live who saw me do it. The spirit does not live who read in my heart a thought so vile. The God to whom the secrets of all hearts are open knows my innocence, knows that I am belied. O father! dear, honoured father! do not look so sternly upon me. I have thought at times that you could read my heart with that searching gaze. Oh, read it now! It is bared for your inspection. I do not shrink from the investigation. Do not pronounce me guilty until you have sifted the matter thoroughly. Innocence is stronger than guilt. I never took the money. I know nothing about it, so help me God!"

'Dr. Leatrim's heart was touched. His eyes were full of tears. He made a motion to Ralph Wilson to speak.

'"Master George," said the old man, coming close up to the agitated youth, and laying his hand upon his shoulder. The lad shuddered, and shrank from his touch as if he had suddenly come in contact with a viper. "How can you speak in that hardened manner to your father? Are not you ashamed of what you have done? Will you add falsehood to theft?"

'"Peace, old man! This is no business of yours. I appeal to my father, not to you." Then, looking sternly in the old man's face, he added in a bitter tone: "Perhaps you are the traitor who has poisoned his mind against me. If so, speak out. I do not fear you. I defy your malice."

'"Bold words, Master George, and boldly spoken. But facts are hard things to disprove." Then, going close up to the lad, he said in a cool, deliberate tone, "I saw you take the money out of that box."

'"Old villain, you lie!"

'"George!" cried the Doctor in an angry tone, lifting his pale face from between his supporting hands, "how dare you use such language to my friend—my father's friend?"

'"No friend to you, sir, when he charges your son with a crime he never committed. I spoke rashly; anger is always intemperate. You must make some allowance for my just indignation." Again he turned and confronted his grey-haired accuser: "You saw me take the money out of that box? When did I take it?"

'"Last Friday afternoon. You came into the study while I was writing out a receipt at my desk. You were in a great hurry; I don't think you saw me."

'"I did see you."

'"Ha!" cried the Rector, who was now sitting upright in his chair, intently listening to the conversation. "You own, then, that you were in the study at that hour?"

'"I have no wish to conceal the fact," returned George.

'"It would be of little use his attempting to deny it," said Ralph, pointedly. "He came in and took the key of the box from the hook on which it always hangs."

'"I did not take the key of the box; in that, at least, you are under a strange delusion."

'"O Master George!" Ralph shook his head, and raised his hands in pious horror.

'"Where did he go, Ralph, when he left the study?" asked Dr. Leatrim.

'"I am not quite certain, sir. I think he went first into the garden, and then across the road into the churchyard. When he took down the key, he seemed very much confused. There was a look in his eyes which made me mistrust him, and I went to the window, which commands a view of the inside of the porch. If you come here, sir," continued Ralph, advancing to the window, "you will see everything as plainly as if you were there."

'"I know it."

'"Well, sir, I saw Master George take down the box, place it on the bench by the door, unlock it, and take out something. You may guess what that was, for he was some minutes examining the contents."

'George Leatrim turned very pale, and visibly trembled; but he never took his eyes from the old man's face.

'"George Leatrim," said the Doctor, "you are now at liberty to give your explanation of this extraordinary conduct. I charge you to answer truly the questions I put to you. I do not mean to condemn you unheard. What did you want in the study last Friday afternoon?"

'"I went there to seek you, and not finding you, I took down the key of the iron gates that open into the porch of the church, and went to look for you in the garden."

'"What did you want with me?"

'"You gave me on my birthday a silver crown piece."

'"I did so. My father gave it to me when a boy of your age. It was one of the coins struck in commemoration of George III's coronation. What of that?"

'"I wished to give it to God. I went into the study to ask your permission to do so, as it was a present from you. I found Ralph Wilson writing, as he says, and you absent. I took the key of the church—not of the poor's box, as he affirms, for I could make my deposit without that—and went into the garden, hoping to find you there. I then made up my mind to put the piece into the box, as it was getting late. This I did without taking down the box, a fact which that man knows as well as I do. I returned to the study and replaced the large iron key. Ralph was no longer there. This is the truth—the whole truth; so help me God!"

'The lad, before so calm, now flung himself in an agony of tears at his father's feet, and clasping his knees, cried out in piteous tones, "Father, do you believe me?"

'The Doctor pushed him aside. "The evidence is too strong against you.
I wish I could."

'"Father, did I ever deceive you?"

'"Never, that I am conscious of, until now."

'"Did you ever detect me in an act of dishonesty?"

'"Never."

'"Then how can you condemn me? You will say, upon the evidence of this honest man. Am I not as worthy of belief as Ralph Wilson?"

'"His character is above suspicion."

'"So ought mine to be," said the lad proudly.

'"Ralph is incapable of falsehood. How dare you to insinuate that he could be capable of such a crime? What inducement could that pious, grey-headed old man have for slandering the son of his friend and benefactor? I am so certain of his fidelity, that I know he would rather bear the brand of shame than bring dishonour upon me and mine."

'"It is strange," mused George, unconsciously uttering his thoughts aloud, and half repenting the harsh language he had used to the old servant. "If he has not plotted this accusation against me to hide his own guilt, he has made a grievous mistake."

'"It is no mistake!" cried Ralph indignantly. "I saw you take the money. You can't persuade me out of my senses. I have borne an honest character all my life. It is not a beardless boy that can rob me of it in my old age."

'"It may be possible, Ralph, that you were mistaken," said Dr. Leatrim, after a long and painful silence, in which he had been summing up the evidence on both sides. "The boy's account of himself is very clear. George, I will give you one trial more. If I find that crown piece in the box, I will believe that Ralph is in error, that some villain unknown to us has been the robber."

'"Most joyfully, dear father!" exclaimed George, springing from his knees beside the Rector, and bringing him the box. "God will attest my innocence, and prove to you that I have spoken the truth."

'A gleam of hope shot through the thick gloom that had gathered round Dr. Leatrim. With a steady hand he unlocked the box. The crown piece was not there!

'"Liar!" he cried, in a tone of mingled contempt and horror. "What have you to say for yourself now?"

'George uttered a sharp and bitter cry of disappointment. He pressed his hands tightly over his breast, as he murmured in a hollow, broken voice, "Nothing."

'"You plead guilty?"

'"I should prove myself a liar, sir, if I did."

'"Liar and thief! Base hypocrite! Kneel down and ask pardon of that worthy man for the injurious language you have used towards him."

'"Never!" George Leatrim fixed his brow like iron. "I will die first."

'"You deserve death, sir," cried his father, rising in great anger; "and I would inflict upon you the utmost penalty of the law were it not for your poor mother."

'"Oh, my mother!" said George, in a low, heart-broken voice; "this disgrace will kill her."

'Dr. Leatrim was too much overcome by passion to hear that despairing moan, his pride too deeply wounded to pity and forgive; and he continued, with the utmost severity of look and manner: "Ay, wretched boy, you should have thought of that before; but not even to spare her feelings can I neglect my duty. I cannot demean myself by touching a thing so vile. Ralph, whom you have calumniated, shall inflict upon you a punishment suited to the baseness of your crime. Wilson, you will find a light cane in that corner; bring it here."

'"You do not mean to chastise me like a dog, father?"

'"Never address me by that title again, sir, until deep repentance and a long-continued course of well-doing restore you once more to my love and favour—though never, never can you again occupy the place you once held in my heart. You have acted like a felon, and shall receive a felon's reward."

'"Beware what you do, sir," cried George, frowning in his turn. "Get your menial to punish me in this degrading manner, and you will repent it to the last day of your life."

'"Oh, monstrous depravity! Do you dare to threaten me? Take off your jacket, sir.—Ralph, give him twenty lashes, and don't spare the whip."

'The man drew back. "I cannot strike my master's son."

'"Do as I bid you."

'The boy stood firm as a rock, his lips compressed, his brow rigid, and his face livid in its ghastly pallor. Turning from his stern parent to the old man, he said, with an air of calm indifference:

'"I am ready; perform your task. I am not the first victim who has suffered wrongfully. My Saviour endured a harder scourge; I will learn patience from His cross."

'"What barefaced wickedness!" groaned the Doctor. "God grant him repentance, and save his miserable soul."

'"Amen," said Ralph, as he turned to his abhorrent task with an energy equal to the guilt of the criminal.

'George bore the severe castigation without a murmur. When it was over, Doctor Leatrim told him to go to his own room, and pray to God to soften his hard and impenitent heart.

'As the boy passed his father on his way out, he gave him a look full of love and compassion, and said, in a firm voice:

'"Sir, I pity and forgive you. If you have erred, it was under the full conviction that you were doing your duty."

'He closed the door softly, and staggered up to his own chamber.

'What was there in that look that went so home to the heart of the stern father—in those loving, broken words of the poor abused boy? If they did not stagger the conviction of his guilt, they made him feel most unhappy. Had he acted well, or wisely, or like a Christian? Was the punishment that he had inflicted—so harsh and degrading to a sensitive mind—likely to produce the desired effect? He could not answer the question in a manner at all satisfactory to his mind, or still the sharp upbraidings of conscience; and flinging himself upon his knees, he buried his face in his hands, and offered up to God an agony of repentant tears.