“Much the same as Miss Douglas’. I have nothing in the world except what I earn from day to day. If I had money of my own, do you suppose I would have touched any one else’s?” he asked, a flash of indignation kindling his eyes, and his fine form for a moment becoming erect.
“Pardon me. No. But who is this ward of yours?”
“Miss Emily Eliot.”
“Where is she now?”
“In my own family. She has never known of her loss; I have provided for her every need and want by the labor of my own hands. I never intend that she shall know of it while I live—if I am taken away it will have to come out.
“And, Miss Douglas,” turning eagerly to Brownie, “if you do not utterly hate me for the trouble which I have brought upon you, will you, too, come to my home and let me provide the comforts of life for you? I can easily do that; I have no one but my wife and Miss Elliot, and my business will give me enough to support you all comfortably.”
“It is well thought of, Mr. Conrad,” said Mr. Ashley, approvingly.
“Oh, Mr. Ashley, and you, doctor, you can never know the suffering which this thing has brought upon me,” Mr. Conrad continued, rising, and pacing the floor nervously. “I thought I was an honorable man—I am an honorable man at heart now, but my zeal to do well by my friend’s child, my zeal that no one should suffer who had placed their interests in my keeping, has led me to commit a wrong for which I can never atone. Had it not been that others were dependent upon me, my life would have paid the forfeit years ago.
“If that bank only had not suspended payment, Miss Douglas might still have had a competence; but everything has seemed to be against me. But, Miss Brownie,” he added, turning again to the sorrowful girl, “you have not yet answered my question. Will you come to me and let me take care of you?”
“No, dear friend; you have enough upon your mind and heart now, and I cannot add to your burdens.”