"Yes, sir; I have come to see you."

"But--" He paused, his lips quivered, and his frame trembled.

"You are not glad to see me?" I added.

"I am very glad to see you--more so than you can think. But how is it I see you? Thomas told me you started for England, and was lost overboard on the pa.s.sage."

"Did he tell you that?" I demanded, astonished; and I saw at once that E. Dunkswell, on the arrival of the steamer at Queenstown, where a letter could be mailed, had written to his employer.

And Tom Thornton at that moment believed I was lying at the bottom of the sea, no more to disturb him, or threaten his ill-gotten possessions.

I told my uncle that my life had been preserved.

"Thank G.o.d!" said he, so earnestly that I believed he was sincere. "I feared that Thomas, through his agent, had committed a crime greater than mine."

"If the intention makes the crime, I think he did commit it. Where is Tom Thornton?" I asked.

"He is here to-day," replied my uncle, going to the window and calling his son, who was walking by the lake. "You have been to England, Ernest?"

He trembled all over, and I pitied him.

"I have, sir."

"It was needless for you to go there. If you had listened to me--"

"It was not needless. My mother is in the parlor now."

"Your mother!" gasped he, springing from his chair, and then falling back again.

"You shall see her."

"No--no, Ernest!"

There was a knock at the door. I opened it, and Tom Thornton entered. He saw me, and turned pale. His victim had risen from the depths of the ocean to confront him.

"Ah, Ernest," stammered he.

"I am here. E. Dunkswell was a fool as well as a knave."

"What shall be done?" groaned my uncle.

"I was told that you were lost overboard," said Tom, with a struggle to recover his self-possession.

"E. Dunkswell pushed me overboard; but that act proved to be my salvation. I won't trouble you with particulars. My mother is in the parlor."

"Your mother!" exclaimed Tom; and from the height of guilty confidence he fell to the depth of hopeless despair.

"What shall be done?" repeated my uncle, in hollow tones.

"Justice must be done," I replied.

"You have been smart, Ernest," added Tom, with a sepulchral laugh. "How can we settle this business?"

"By paying over to Mr. Hale every dollar mentioned in my father's will,"

I replied.

"You are hard, Ernest."

"But I am your guardian and trustee, Ernest," said my uncle.

Tom said half the money was spent, and offered to give up fifty thousand dollars in United States securities.

"Every dollar," I added.

"I will look it over, Ernest, and see what can be done," replied Tom, moving to the door.

He rushed out, but only to fall into the arms of my old friend, Mr.

Greene, the deputy-sheriff. Mr. Hale had taken one decisive step. The officer conducted Tom back to the library, and I went for my mother. I was afraid my uncle would faint again when she entered the room, but he did not; and then I was afraid my mother would faint, she was so agitated.

"Mr. Thornton, this is unpleasant business," said Mr. Hale. "As the attorney for Mrs. Thornton and her son, I purpose to settle this matter as quietly as possible. I understand that the property is in the hands of your son. I procured a warrant for his arrest on the criminal charge."

"Mercy!" groaned my uncle. "Do not arrest him."

"When he has paid over every dollar mentioned in the will of Ezra Thornton, we shall be willing to say that no one will appear against him. My clients do not mention nearly a hundred thousand dollars' income of which you have defrauded them. These are our best terms."

"That will leave me and my son beggars," whined my uncle.

"As you would have left your brother's legal heirs," replied Mr. Hale, sternly. "This poor lady has suffered twelve years of misery, but she does not ask you to pay the back income. Moreover, if you do not accept these terms, I shall be obliged to cause your arrest on the criminal charge. I shall go to Philadelphia, present the will for probate, and proceed against both of you. We have a just claim against you for two hundred and forty thousand dollars. We ask for but one hundred and fifty."

The terms were accepted, for Tom was already under arrest. He informed us then that the stocks and bonds of my father's estate had yielded him an income of nine thousand dollars, and that he had paid three thousand of it to his father. The princ.i.p.al had not been touched. On the following day, Mr. Hale, Tom, and the sheriff started for Philadelphia to recover the funds. They were paid over, and deposited for safe keeping in a bank. The will was offered for probate, and we all went to Philadelphia to attend the Surrogate Court. After a delay of several months, Mr. Hale was appointed trustee of the property, in place of Amos Thornton, who _declined_ the trust.

When the business was done, my uncle seemed to be at peace. He had saved money enough from the income he had appropriated to support him.

My mother and myself had several conversations with him about our affairs, and he solemnly a.s.sured her that he did not know she was deprived of even the luxuries of life. He had never made any bargain with Bunyard, though they understood each other. He had sent the money to pay her board, agreeing to give the agent five per cent. for his services. He had probably made from one hundred to one hundred and fifty pounds a year out of the business, and intended, at the right time, to "come down" on his employer for some thousands.

After the business in Philadelphia was settled, my mother and I went to Parkville. Mr. Hale built a cottage for us on the lake, half a mile from the village. We had plenty of money, and many a poor person in the town had occasion to bless my mother for her bounty. We were happy, very happy, for my mother was all I had hoped and dreamed in the days of my loneliness. I was the "man of the house," and my constant study was to make my mother happy, and to compensate her for the years of misery she had suffered.

I heard but little of Tom Thornton after the settlement; but I learned that Mrs. Loraine, when she found his possessions had melted away, was "not at home" when he called. I was told, a few years later, that he kept a gambling saloon and bar-room in a southern city, but I know not how true the statement was. My uncle occupied the cottage till his death, five years after my mother's arrival. I saw him occasionally, and I had reason to believe that he repented his crime, and found the true peace. In his last sickness, my mother, forgetting the wrongs of the past, was an angel at his bedside. She not only nursed him, but she read the Bible to him, and prayed with him; and finally she closed his eyes in his last sleep.

The Splash was moored in the lake by my mother's cottage, and I cruised about in her with Bob Hale, and often with my mother.

Mr. Windleton procured the appointment of Mr. Loraine as Kate's guardian, and I did not often see her, though she spent a month with us every summer. Two years after Mr. Hale had paid over to me the money, when I was twenty-one, according to my father's will, we made it perpetual summer at the cottage, for Kate was duly installed as the mistress of the house. The interesting occasion came off in Madison Place, and we were delighted by the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Macombe, Mr. Solomons, and Mr. Carmichael. Of course Bob Hale "stood up" with me.

As this last event properly ends our story, I shall only add, I believe in Kate, and so does my mother. She always calls me Ernest Thornton, in full. Though the Splash is now a little shaky in her timbers, she is still a good boat; and almost every pleasant afternoon in summer we sail over to Cannondale in her, Mr. and Mrs. Bob Hale being often pa.s.sengers.

We try to be faithful to each other, and strive to be good and true.

Though we hope we grow better and wiser with each year that is mercifully added to our span, there is still always something of truth and goodness for us to SEEK AND FIND.