“It was. Your father and Richard Briggs were schoolmates, so I have heard him say; and he felt sufficient confidence in him to confide you to his care.”
It is not a pleasant moment when for the first time we are led to suspect those in whom we have confided; and important and welcome as the intelligence otherwise was, Gilbert felt sober at the treachery of Mr. Briggs. The latter, as we have seen, had been kinder to him than his wife or son, and Gilbert had felt grateful. Even now he could not rid himself of a certain feeling of kindness to his guardian, false as he had been to his trust.
“I am sorry to hear this,” he said, gravely.
“Sorry to hear that your father left you a fortune?”
“I don’t mean that. I am sorry that my guardian has been wicked enough to attempt to cheat me out of it.”
“What sort of a man is Mr. Briggs?”
“At first I was not prepossessed in his favor; but he improved on acquaintance. When his wife and son spoke against me, he always took my part. When I was charged with dishonesty, he refused to believe it.”
“I think it quite possible that he is a naturally kind-hearted man,” said the sick man; “but human nature is sometimes inconsistent. I think it may have been in a moment of embarrassment that he appropriated your fortune. If he has since prospered, it may be possible for you to recover it.”
“Are you sure it was as much as seventy-five thousand dollars, Mr. Talbot?” asked Gilbert, dazzled as he well might be by the magnitude of the sum.
“I am sure of it.”