"I know it; and at first the affair did have that appearance—at least, such a construction was but natural under the circumstances."
"But papa gave up every dollar he possessed to right the wrong."
"I know he did, but the amount was so small, compared with that which had been stolen, that people were skeptical regarding his motives, and when he also disappeared, they were only too ready to believe that he had gone to share the plunder with the guilty cashier. But I would as soon suspect myself of a crime as Abbot Alexander. I know that he was an honorable man."
"Oh, it is such a comfort to hear you say this," Virgie murmured, her voice husky with emotion, her eyes filled with tears. "Poor papa! his last years were embittered with the thought that every one believed him a defaulter—that he had not one friend in all the world, save his daughter, who had faith in him."
"He made a great mistake in leaving San Francisco as he did," Mr. Knight remarked. "If he had remained here and quietly lived down the scandal, he might in time have recovered the confidence of the people."
"Oh! if the stain could be removed from his name and memory!" sighed Virgie.
"I do not like to pain you, my dear," replied Mr. Knight, sympathetically; "but that would be very difficult to accomplish, unless that cashier should come forward and make a full confession."
Virgie looked up, startled, her face growing very white.
"I saw him here in the city last year," she said.
"Impossible!" exclaimed her friend.