Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-03-19
it had been as great surprise to her as

~ udU Uo0u tto SAcdt " oui PAA'S W AiOh do
to myself.
About this time DR.. Ponard, one of
Mr.. Thorne's most intimate friends, ar
rived IN New York, and one morning,
while sitting at breakfast, expressed
great surprise at the numerous adver-
tisements in the papers relating to
noDev lost and found
''Well, F" said he, 81 have not the least
sympathy for those who lose money.
They are generally careless, stupid peo-
pie not fit to be trusted although / re-
member having heard of young man
who lost poeket-book, some years ago,
containing 500, 1000, and 1 declare when
/ read his piteons appeals, which were in
all the papers, my heart fairly ached for
him. But" continued he, addressing
my father-in-law, who had become very
pale, lyon ought to remember the cir
cumstances, for it occurred Just at the
time OF the great failure IN Philadelphia,
by which you were so heavy loser"
Yes, 1 recollect the. affair" replied
Mr.. Thorne, who appeared to be suffer
ing.
II never heard" continued the doc
tor. "what became of the poor devil ;
and vet I should like to know
"Should your said I, laughing ;
sthen let me crafty your curiosity. l,
Arthur Wallace, am that poor devil, doe
tor saved from ruin and despair by my
benefactor here" And then [ related all
the events of the last fifteen years.
The doctor sprung to his feet and
grasped his old friends hand.
"Wel] and generously done y said he;
bat Mr.. Thorne interrupted him. "I
am not we'll, !" he said, family. 81 SUI
fer greatly-let me go to my ROOM
The next day he sent for me to his
private Office. found him looking pale
and haggard.
"Sit down, my dear Arthur" said he,
in low voice, land listen to me. For
a long time 1 have had confession TO
make to you-one that weighs on me 50
heavily that / must ease my conscience
of its load. [ can better bear to do SO
now, that I have in a measure made
some amends for the trouble [ once
caused you
"The trouble you caused me, +" cried1.
"You have been the most generous of
men to me. 1t is through your kindness
[ occupy my present position /; It IS to
you owe my happiness, and, more than
all, my honor"
Mr.. Thorne opened his desk, and took
from it pocket book.
"Do you remember this o. said he, as
he placed it in my hand.
YES" replied [, cit is the one /
lost; but how
I could not finish my question. The
truth stared me in the face sprang to
my feet ID dismay.
Great heavens - [ cried; "you
found the money.
"Aye, and kept it, he groaned, with
anguish in bis voice. But oh! do not
condemn me without hearing me. Yes
terday you heard DR.. Ponard aliude to
the great losses I had sustained by the
failure in Philadelphia. did not dare
to make my embarrassments known, as
that would have fastened my rIlin-my
ruin God knows 1t was not for myself
that I cared, but for Alice, my darling
child. It was on the 18th of December
that you lost the money Oh, / shall
never forget the date. 1t was on that
day that | meditated suicide. was
short of 500, 000 TO meet my liabilities,
smatlling on the 18th. was overwheImed
with despair; the air Of the Office
seemed to stifie me, and / rushed into
the street I had hardly gone ten yards
when my foot struck something. It was
Your pocket-book | opened it, and the
sight turned me giddy and faint. Then
commenced within my breast one OF
those moral struggles which, even to the
conqueror, is fearful, but in which, alas
was miserably vanguished The next
day T satisfied all claims upon me. To
the world / was George Thorne, an hon
est, upright man; to myself l was moth
ing better than malefactor. You know
therest. Through my guilt you passed
two weeks of undesirable anguish. /
have since endeavored to make repara-
ton for the misery caused; but / also
suffered Moral atonements are the
most cruel, because they are eternal. L
have known and yet feel the bitterness
of expiation. Say, my son, can you for
give my crime ?"
Could forgive? I looked at the pal
lid face, anguished eyes. What were
my sufferings of those two terrible
weeks compared to the secret pain and
shame this man had borne for years p
this man, the victim Of one solitary de-
Walton from rectitude, so upright in all
else, and whose life since had been one
long atonement. grasped his hand,
tears filled my eyes.
Father" I cried, "Alice's father and
mine, all is forgiven. forgotten. Do l
not owe all the happiness of my life to
that same lost pocket-boOk?"