“Because,” put in David, “we were afraid the others would ask where we got them. But we didn’t know they belonged to Miss Barnicroft, so are we thieves, father?”
That seemed to David the one important point to be settled. If they were not thieves they would not be sent to prison.
“As far as Miss Barnicroft is concerned, you are not thieves,” replied Mr Hawthorne.
David gave a sigh of relief.
“But—” he continued gravely, “you and Ambrose have stolen something from me of much more value than Miss Barnicroft’s money. Do you know what that is?”
The boys were silent.
“Listen, and I will try to explain what I mean,” said the vicar; “and I speak more particularly to you, Ambrose, because you are older than David, and he did wrong through your persuasion. When you dug the coins up you did not know that you were taking what belonged to someone else, but you did know very well that you were disobedient in going there at all. That is what was wrong, and by doing that you have destroyed my trust in you. Now, trust in anyone is a most precious thing, more precious a great deal than Miss Barnicroft’s money, and much harder to give back when it is once lost. The money you will return to-morrow; but how are you going to restore my trust? That is not to be done in a moment. Sometimes, after we once lose a person’s trust, we can never give it back at all, and that is very sad, because nothing else in the world makes up for it.”
“Sha’n’t you ever trust us any more?” asked David bluntly, with his eyes full of tears.
“I hope so,” said his father, “but that must depend on yourselves. You will have to show me that you are worthy of trust.”
Crest-fallen and sorrowful, the boys crept out of the study when the interview was over.