The words smote Eric to the soul.
The officers of the law had left the villa, and even Pranken had ridden away. Roland went about the house, looking fearfully behind him, as if he had seen a ghost, an evil spirit. The stairs had been trodden by wicked men, the doors had been tried by their instruments; the house and all its treasures had been desecrated; he had lost pleasure not only in the things which had been plundered, but still more in those which could not be taken, which the thieves had been obliged to leave.
He begged Eric not to leave him for a moment, so great was his fear. At night he was unwilling to go to bed; rest seemed impossible to him in a place where the hands of robbers had taken the pillows from his bed. Eric yielded to his entreaties that he would remain by him, and said, after Roland had finally gone to bed,—
"I owe you an answer to your question,—What would Franklin have said to this robbery? I think I know. He would have had no compassion on the thieves; he would have given them up to the full penalty of the law; but at the same time he would have maintained, that the wickedness of individuals should not be allowed to rob us of our faith in humanity; for if thieves could inflict that loss upon us, they would be robbing us of more than hands can touch."
Roland nodded assent. Long after he had fallen asleep, Eric stood by the bedside, thoughtfully watching the boy, who had had to learn this lesson thus early,—Of what use is all this subtle study; of what advantage any conscious training? An invisible, irresistible power, the great current of life's experience, educates a man far more than a single human teacher can do, and in a different way.
Long did Eric stand at the window, gazing out upon the river and the vine-covered hills. We all work according to the strength that is in us; the result of our labors lies not in our hands, but in the control of that invisible, all-embracing power whose origin we know not, and which we can only call God.
Eric was deeply moved. This event could not afflict his young charge so deeply as it did him, for he was conscious of a power mightier than any effort of his own thoughts, drawing him back from the edge of an abyss. He looked into the future, and a fixed resolve was formed within him.
He was summoned away by a messenger from the officer who had conducted the examination, bringing a telegram from Sonnenkamp. It ran thus:—
"Journey to sea-shore given up; coming home; shall find thieves, under whatever title."