_DISCOVERY._
MR. and Mrs. Moore and their son were to leave early the next morning,
and as the day passed on, and George heard nothing of the stolen money,
he began to think the loss would not be found out till he had gone; and
then, he thought, he should be quite safe. He did not dare to spend
it now, lest the Bradford children should wonder where the money came
from; but when he went home, he could easily do so without discovery.
He had been visiting at his uncle's before he came here, and it would
be very easy to say he had given it to him. The last time he had been
there, his uncle had given him five dollars; but this time, nothing.
There were, or there had been, more than five dollars in that box; why
had he not taken it all? It was just as easy to say he had received
five dollars as two; and when it was missed, it would be thought some
of the servants had taken it, or that it had been lost through some of
Maggie's carelessness. He had gone so far in sin now, that he did not
hesitate to go deeper and deeper; and determined, if possible, to have
the rest of the contents of the box.
That evening it seemed as if "chance," as he called it, was again about
to favor him. Mrs. Stanton and Miss Annie were there, and after dinner
all the ladies and the younger children were gathered in the parlor;
while the two boys were at their lessons in the little study-room at
the head of the stairs. Mr. Moore was out. Mr. Bradford had left the
room a short time since, saying he, too, must go out for a while, and
the servants, George knew, were at their tea. _Now_ was his time.
Making some excuse to leave the parlor, he ran up-stairs till he
reached the first turning. The door of the study-room stood ajar.
Pshaw! The boys would hear him. He peeped in. No one there but Harry,
studying after his usual fashion, with his elbows on the table, his
head between his hands, and his fingers thrust into his ears to shut
out all sound that might take his attention from his book. Fred must
have gone to his own room in the third story. He should hear him if he
came down. Headlong, noisy Fred was sure to give notice of his coming.
But he must make haste. There is not a moment to lose. Almost
forgetting his caution in his guilty hurry, he ran quickly up the few
remaining steps, and along the hall to Mrs. Bradford's room. He stole
in as he had done once before. The jet of gas in the burner over the
dressing-bureau which held the coveted prize was turned down very low,
but the bright fire dancing in the grate made the room quite light
enough for his guilty purpose.
He opened the drawer and took up the box. How light it was! and there
was no rattle of pennies, none of what dear little Maggie had called,
in the joy of her heart, "her log-cabin music." He touched the spring,
and the box flew open. Empty! He stood for a moment looking into it,
then turned it up to the firelight to make sure there was nothing
within. As he did so, he heard steps behind him; a hand was laid upon
his shoulder, and looking up with a start, he saw Mr. Bradford's face
sternly bent upon him, while at his elbow he met Fred's clear, honest
eyes blazing with scorn and indignation. His own fell to the ground,
and there he stood, like the mean, pitiful thing he was, trembling and
cowering, the open box still in his hand.
There was a moment's silence, and then Fred broke forth.
"So it _was_ you, you rascal! you mean, sneaking, cowardly thief! You
are the fellow that robs little girls of their hard-earned money!
You--you--you--" Fred's passion was choking him.
"Hush, hush, my son!" said Mr. Bradford, sadly; "it is not for you to
reproach this unhappy boy. Leave him to me. Go to your play, if you
_can_ play after what you have seen."
Fred laid both his own hands on that which rested on George's shoulder.
"Take your hand from him then, father; he is not fit to be touched by
an honest man, by an honorable gentleman! A thief!"
"Go, go, Fred, and do not speak of this till you see me again."
Fred obeyed, as he knew he must when his father spoke in that tone.
"Now," said Mr. Bradford sternly to the guilty boy, "go in there;" and
he pointed to the door of his dressing-room.
Trembling, and fearing he knew not what, but not daring to disobey,
George did as he was told. Mr. Bradford followed, silently put beyond
George's reach everything on which he might lay his hands, locked every
drawer and closet, and then turned to leave the room.
George started forward. "What are you going to do?" he stammered.
"Leave you here till your father comes. I cannot deal with you, for,
thank God, you are not my child."
"Oh, don't, don't!" said the wretched boy, falling on his knees. "Oh,
I did not mean to--I was only looking--he will punish me so--I would
not have taken--"
"Hush, hush," said Mr. Bradford, "and do not kneel to me. Do not add to
your sin by trying to deny it, but think over what you have done; and
when your poor father comes, be ready to make confession to him, and to
the God against whom you have sinned."
"But don't tell father; he will be so angry; he minds such things so
much. He--he never would forgive me."
"And yet the son of such a father could do this terrible thing? I
grieve to tell him, George; rather, far rather, even for my own sake,
would I pass over this in silence, and let you go unpunished; but it is
a duty I owe to you, as well as to him, not to let you go on unchecked
in sin. I see, too, poor boy, that it is the fear of punishment, not of
distressing your kind father, which makes you so anxious that I should
not tell him. You do not yet see your guilt, unhappy child; you only
dread the pain and shame which it has brought upon yourself."
As Mr. Bradford ceased speaking, Mr. Moore's short, quick step was
heard in the hall, and the next moment he rapped upon the door. Fred,
going down-stairs, had met him coming in, and was asked where George
was. He had answered, "Up-stairs;" but he had been so shocked and
distressed by what he had seen that Mr. Moore had noticed his manner,
and asked if anything were wrong with George. Fred would not say what
the trouble was, but told Mr. Moore where he would find his son.
Mr. Bradford opened the door.
"Fred told me that George was here," said Mr. Moore, looking much
disturbed. "What is wrong?" he asked, as he saw his son's guilty,
miserable face.
"Will you tell your father, George, or shall I?" asked Mr. Bradford.
But George only cried and sobbed, saying, "he did not mean to--it was
very hard--he was only looking"--till Mr. Moore once more asked Mr.
Bradford to explain what all this meant.
Mr. Bradford told the story in as few words as possible,--how his
little daughters had shown George the secret of the box, telling him
why they were laying by the money; how that morning two of the notes
had been missed, and the false one found in their place (as he spoke,
taking the bill from his pocket-book and handing it to Mr. Moore);
how Mrs. Bradford had put the rest of the money in a safer place; and
lastly, how he and Fred had just seen George go to the drawer and take
out the box, as if with the intention of adding to his sin by a new
theft.
It was a hard thing for Mr. Bradford to do; he knew how he should feel
himself if one of his own boys had done this. He was very much grieved
for his friend, and when he had told all as gently as possible, he went
away, and left him alone with his unhappy son. What passed between them
it is not necessary to tell you. George would have denied his guilt
even now, but the false note in his father's hand made this impossible.
Maggie and Bessie did not see him again, for Mr. and Mrs. Moore left
the next morning at an hour even earlier than they had intended; for
after this terrible sorrow had come upon them, they felt that they
could not bear to meet any of Mr. Bradford's children again.
Perhaps you may like to know how Fred and his father discovered
George's guilt. It so happened that Fred's quick temper had brought him
into more trouble at school, and he did not know exactly how to act in
the matter. He had finished his lessons, and was thinking this over
when he heard his father come up-stairs and go to his dressing-room.
"I've a great mind to tell papa, and see what he says of it," he said
to himself. To think and to do were with Fred one and the same thing;
and the next moment he was with his father, asking if he would wait and
hear his story. He might have been sure of that; Mr. Bradford always
had time to spare if his children needed his help or advice.
Fred told his story, and they were sitting talking it over in low tones
when George's step was heard in the next room. The dressing-room was
quite in the shade, and though George neither saw nor heard those who
were within, he himself was plainly seen through the open door, at his
guilty work.
And now, like our Maggie and Bessie, we need have no more to do with
this poor boy, and will take leave of him. The little girls were not
told that the thief had been discovered. Their mother thought it would
only shock and distress them, while it could serve no good purpose for
them to know it. They wondered, and talked of it between themselves for
a few days; and then there were so many pleasanter things to think of
that they forgot all about it.
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