CHAPTER XX
ACCUSED
Phœbe had been watching impatiently for her brother’s return and ran to meet him. He told her of the scene at the bank—of Eric’s astonishment and terror, and how Mr. Spaythe had raised Phil’s salary quite materially. Then he related the manner in which he had worked upon the culprit’s fears and induced him to apply a part of the stolen money to replacing his former embezzlements, thus saving Phil from the possibilities of future complications.
Tears stood in Phœbe’s eyes as she murmured: “I’m so glad. Oh, I’m so glad!”
“But the greatest mystery is not yet cleared up,” said her brother. “I’m as much as ever in the dark concerning your own share in this puzzling affair. Phœbe, where did that money come from?”
She shook her head, smiling through her tears, and accompanied him to dinner. But afterward, when Phil had gone back to work, the girl sat in her room facing the consequences of her act. Conscience stirred at last and gained control of her and its vivid accusations made her cringe. Her dearly beloved brother, her twin, had been saved from impending disgrace, but in saving him Phœbe had herself been guilty of a theft equal to that of Eric Spaythe. She had robbed her grandfather in exactly the same way that he had robbed his father, and if Eric had earned such bitter condemnation, Phœbe could not expect to escape censure. True, their motives were different. Eric stole for selfish reasons; Phœbe, to save her twin from unmerited obloquy.
Searching her heart with candid inquiry, she wondered if she were really guilty of a crime. Civil laws might condemn her, but would not the great moral laws of humanity uphold her for what she had done?
“I’m not wicked, I know,” she told herself, positively. “I have wronged no one by my act. There is more than enough of Gran’pa Eliot’s hoard remaining to last him during his brief lifetime. And what better use could a share of that idle money be put to than saving his grandson from humiliation and shame?”
But, Phœbe’s obdurate conscience was not to be appeased by such sophistry as this. “What right had you to take that money?—what right had you?” the small voice constantly asked, and at last she grew distressed by the vague, yet persistent fear that she had done an evil deed that good might come of it. Was that a sufficient excuse? she asked herself, and feared it was not.
“But, I’d do it again!” she declared, pressing her lips firmly together as she thought of Phil. “I’d do it again this moment, if it were necessary.”
While the girl thus fought with an accusing conscience she heard Elaine come into her room. At once the spirit of antagonism toward this dragon, who guarded Gran’pa Eliot’s treasure, hardened her into a belief that she was fully justified in what she had done.