On the day before New-Year's he was altogether better; he could think of previous occurrences, and spoke with Thomas Burton of many things, but not until the evening of that day, when Jem Taylor got up to see him, had he thought of the purse, which was still in the pocket of his vest.
The presence of Jem, as if associated with money, somehow recalled the recollection of his finding the treasure; and he could not, weak and unable to consider consequences as he was, refrain from telling him all about it, and begged him to inquire in the neighbourhood who had lost it.
"You are green as ever, Bill," said Jem, who, nevertheless, was full of his own kind of sympathy for our hero; "you might as well look for a needle in a hay-stack as for the owner of a purse in New York. The only way is to advertise it, and make whoever answers describe it. But if I were in your place I would keep it. Finders are keepers; but if you don't like to spend it all yourself or change it, just give it to me. The one who has lost it may be rich, and by this time has forgotten it. You are now recovering from sickness, and will want oranges and such things; I can get all that you ought to have, and nobody be any the wiser."
Poor William, weak and sick; the tempter was again there—a messenger of Satan ready to overthrow the faith which until now had sustained him. "Finding is not stealing," was the specious whisper; "and many keep what they find."
For a moment only he swerved. He spoke no word; and while Jem watched his pale countenance, as it changed with the varied emotions which were struggling in his heart, he could scarcely understand the feelings which swayed his own. The conflict was severe, but short, as it always is where strict integrity has been the ruling principle, and truth the bulwark. The flush faded from the brow; leaving it deadly pale, as he firmly said,—
"No, Jem, no; I will not do it. Let me die, but I will not sin against God."
Exhausted by the effort he had made, he burst into a violent fit of weeping, alarming Jem greatly, who feared for the results. But tears were soothing to the sick boy; for tears are said to make the depth of grief seem less, and prove a balm to the soul. None are wholly evil, and some touch of nature now smote the heart of the reckless journeyman for a moment, as he once more recognised the holy majesty of virtue exhibited in a child. But how many thoughts can flash upon the soul in an instant! In that short space a picture of his own life was placed before his mental vision; and as he contrasted his own course with that of the sufferer before him, he felt, for the moment, willing to change places with him. He waited until the strong burst of feeling had passed over, and his intended victim once more lay still and death-like before him. He dared venture no further, and his eyes were something moist, and his voice assumed a softer tone, as he rose to take leave for the night.
"Billy," said he, "you are a good boy; I wish I was half as good, but I know I need not try. But I still am of the mind that if I had found that money I would have a right to spend it; but I won't say any more, for I see you are very weak. Can I do anything for you before I go?"
"You can," replied William; "ask Thomas—no, he is not at home—tell Mrs. Burton to send him in the morning."
"I believe the old man is your spiritual adviser," returned Jem; "but I will do as you wish, and come again in the morning; so good-night."