Walter busied himself in rearranging the fruit, which he had displaced to show to his troublesome customer. His mind was full of painful reflections, and it was not for a little time that he perceived that the old gentleman had left his pocket-book behind. It was an old worn-looking article, that might be of the same date as the snuff-coloured coat; Walter went to the gate to look out for its owner, but the gentleman was nowhere to be seen.
"Perhaps his name and address may be written inside," thought Walter; "I had better open it and look."
He unclosed the book, and in the pocket found, indeed, a note directed to Mr. Sharp, Marine Row; but there was something else that Walter found in that pocket, something on which he fixed his gaze with a strange emotion, till his hand trembled and his heart beat fast! It was a bank-note for £50 wrapped round some money! The pocket-book almost fell from the grasp of the youth, a thought of Nelly and her poverty flashed across his mind; here were riches before him, dare he touch them!
When the convict's son first came beneath Viner's roof, he would not have hesitated to grasp the fortune placed within his reach, the strong temptation would at once have mastered conscience! Walter would have rushed on the fatal career of the thief! But the Spirit of God had touched his heart; weak, imperfect as his religion might be, at least it was sincere and true. Walter dared not be guilty of the fatal error of presuming on God's mercy by committing wilful sin; he dared not hazard his immortal soul for gold! Hastily, he thrust the book into his bosom, colouring with shame, all alone as he was, at having harboured for one moment the thought of theft. He unclosed the little door which led to the parlour, asked Nelly to supply his place at the counter, then, without venturing one look at her thin, pale face, lest the sight of it should shake his resolution, he took down his hat from a peg in the wall, and hastened towards the lodging of the owner of the note.
"And is it possible that one who for the last ten years has lived, as it were, under the wing of piety, could have felt—almost acted as a thief!" thought Walter, as he walked on with rapid strides, more pained at having meditated a crime, than he once would have been to have committed it. "And I have blushed for my unhappy father, have been ashamed at bearing his name, have presumed to think that in his place my conduct would have been better, have almost dared to condemn him in my secret soul! Had he had the advantages with which I have been blessed, who can say that I might not have looked up to him now as my guide and example through life! Oh! May God forgive me, forgive my pride and hardness of heart, my foolish reliance on my own feeble strength, my cold forgetfulness of my unhappy parent! And have mercy upon him, O gracious Lord! Watch over him, save him, lead him back to Thyself, and grant that I may meet him, if not here below, yet in the kingdom of our Father in heaven!"
The lodging of the old gentleman was at no great distance; it looked small, uncomfortable, and mean. A slip-shop, untidy girl answered Walter's ring, and was desired by him to tell her master that some one wished to speak with him upon business. While she shuffled up the steep staircase, Walter's eye rested, at first unconsciously, upon the little curved stick which Mr. Sharp had carried, and which was now placed upon nails in the hall.
"I think that I might cut out something like that," he said to himself, "I shall have plenty of time in the long winter evenings; I wonder if an assortment of things carved in wood would be likely to sell well in the season." The idea pleased him; there seemed to be an opening for hope; he might yet, by the work of his hands, be enabled to gain some comforts for Nelly!
From the top of the narrow staircase, the servant-girl called to him to step up. Walter obeyed; and in a small, ill-lighted room, where dust lay thick on the table, and darkened the panes, and the window-curtain looked as though it had never been white, Walter found the sharp-featured old man. His look was restless and uneasy, an expression of mingled hope, fear, and suspicion was in his eye, as he recognised the face of Walter Binning. That expression changed to one of childish delight as the youth drew from his breast the well-known pocket-book; the old man snatched it with feverish impatience from his hand, opened it with fingers that trembled from eagerness, and not till he had examined and re-examined its contents, looked at the note on this side and that, and counted the money again and again, did he appear to have a thought to give to him whose honesty had restored it.
"It's all right—quite right," he muttered at last, "two sovereigns, a half-crown—four and six. You have behaved very well, young man, very well; will you accept—" the miser hesitated, fumbled with money, seemed to find difficulty in making up his mind, and then, as if quite with an effort, held out a sixpence to Walter!
The convict's son stepped back, a half-smile on his face, and, bowing to the miserable old man, left the room with this reflection, "It is better to want money than the heart to spend it."