“A few dollars, I believe, sir,” fumbling in his pockets, as if to chase the fugitive pieces.
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. Here is one hundred dollars.”
“Sir?” gasps Phœnix.
“I may be compounding a felony, but I’ll take my chances of that. Leave this city and cross over, as you intended, to Canada. There endeavor to be a better man. This will all be hushed up, and your mother need never know of it. I do this, Jack, my boy, to give you a chance to redeem yourself.”
At this Phœnix breaks completely down, his form shakes as great sobs rack his frame.
“Oh, Mr. Atherton! what a vile wretch I have been to abuse your confidence. A man never had a better friend than you have been to me. How can I ever thank you enough for giving me this chance. In her name, my poor mother’s, I bless you. Yes, I will go to Canada, and in the sight of Heaven I swear that if I live to threescore years and ten nothing can ever tempt me to fall again. This lesson has taught me I am not made for a rascal; my peace of mind demands that I have a clear conscience. Would you condescend to shake hands with me before I go, sir?”
“Willingly, Jack; and if you can show me a year from now what you have done—if you can prove to me that this lesson has sunk into your heart, I’ll give you another trial, Jack.”
“God bless you, sir. You will hear from me if I live.”
Unable to say another word the young man turns and leaves the library. If any of the guests see him as he quits the house, their curiosity must be aroused by his manifest signs of emotion.
“There will be one disappointed man in Chicago, I warrant,” says Aleck, whose eyes are moist.