"I am happier than he is," said the old man. "And as for his eating my
children's bread, that is a mistake. His bread is bitter, but theirs is
sweet." He reached for a letter that lay on a table near him, and
opening it, said--"This is from my son in the West. He writes:--'Dear
Father--All is going well with me. I enclose you fifty dollars. In a
month I am to be married, and it is all arranged that dear Alice and I
shall go East just to see you, and take you back home with us. How nice
and comfortable we will make you! And you shall never leave us!'"
The old man's voice broke down on the last sentence, and his eyes
filled with tears. But he soon recovered himself, saying--
"Before I lost my property, this son was an idler, and in such danger
that through fear of his being led astray, I was often in great
distress of mind. Necessity forced him into useful employment; and you
see the result. I lost some money, but saved my son. Am I not richer in
such love as he bears me to-day, than if, without his love, I possessed
a million of dollars? Am I not happier? I knew it would all come out
right. I had faith, and I tried to be patient. It is coming out right."
"But the wrong that has been done," said Mr. Fanshaw. "The injustice
that exists. Here is a scoundrel, a robber, in the peaceful enjoyment
of your goods, while you are in want."
"We do not envy such peace as his. The robber has no peace. He never
dwells in security; but is always armed, and on the watch. As for me,
it has so turned out that I have never lacked for food and raiment."
"Still, there is the abstract wrong, the evil triumphing over the
good," said Mr. Fanshaw.
"How do you reconcile that with your faith in Providence?"
"What I see clearly, as to myself," was replied, "fully justifies the
ways of God to man. Am I the gainer or the loser by misfortune? Clearly
the gainer. That point admits of no argument. So, what came to me in
the guise of evil, I find to be good. God has not mocked my faith in
him. I waited patiently until he revealed himself in tender mercy;
until the hand to which I clung in the dark valley led me up to the
sunny hills. No amount of worldly riches could give me the deep
satisfaction I now possess. As for the false friend who robbed me, I
leave him in the hands of the all-wise Disposer of events. He will not
find, in ill-gotten gain, a blessing. It will not make his bed soft;
nor his food sweet to the taste. A just and righteous God will trouble
his peace, and make another's possessions the burden of his life."
"But that will not benefit you," said Mr. Fanshaw. "His suffering will
not make good your loss."
"My loss is made good already. I have no complaint against Providence.
My compensation is a hundredfold. For dross I have gold. I and mine
needed the discipline of misfortune, and it came through the perfidy of
a friend. That false friend, selfish and grasping--seeing in money the
greatest good--was permitted to consummate his evil design. That his
evil will punish him, I am sure; and in the pain of his punishment, he
may be led to reformation. If he continue to hide the stolen fox, it
will tear his vitals. If he lets it go, he will scarcely venture upon a
second theft. In either event, the wrong he was permitted to do will be
turned into discipline; and my hardest wish in regard to him is, that
the discipline may lead to repentance and a better life."
"Your faith and patience," said Mr. Fanshaw, as he held the old man's
hand in parting, "rebuke my restless disbelief. I thank you for having
opened to my mind a new region of thought--for having made some things
clear that have always been dark. I am sure that our meeting to-day is
not a simple accident. I have been led here, and for a good purpose."
As Mr. Fanshaw and Mr. Wilkins left the poor man's lodgings, the former
said--
"I know the false wretch who ruined your friend."
"Ah!"
"Yes. And he is a miserable man. The fox is indeed tearing his vitals.
I understand his case now. He must make restitution. I know how to
approach him. This good, patient, trusting old man shall not suffer
wrong to the end."
"Does not all this open a new world of thought to your mind?" asked Mr
Wilkins. "Does it not show you that, amid all human wrong and disaster,
the hand of Providence moves in wise adjustment, and ever out of evil
educes good, ever through loss in some lower degree of life brings gain
to a higher degree? Consider how, in an unpremeditated way, you are
brought into contact with a stranger, and how his life and experience
touching yours, give out a spark that lights a candle in your soul to
illumine chambers where scarcely a ray had shone before; and this not
alone for your benefit. It seems as if you were to be made an
instrument of good not only to the wronged, but to the wronger. If you
can effect restitution in any degree, the benefit will be mutual."
"I can and I will effect it," replied Mr. Fanshaw. And he did!