“Josiah, you suspected that poor Irishman of having broken your trees. The dear, honest creature is innocent. I was the perpetrator, in conjunction with that wretched Simpson.”
Josiah started back, whilst the surprise he felt was strongly marked on his countenance.
“Thee, George Hope! Oh, poor Lary, how basely I have injured him.”
“Oh, do not—do not say so!” cried George, weeping bitterly. “I only am to blame. Ah, Josiah! dear good Josiah! I fear you will never love me, or call me friend or brother, after this disgraceful disclosure. Yet do forgive me? and I will never act so unworthily again.” He would have thrown himself at his feet, but the noble boy prevented him, by raising him in his arms.
“Indeed, George, I did not suspect thee of such a crime; but I forgive thee, from my very heart. But poor Lary! I cannot pardon myself for having suspected him, without being certain of his guilt; and then the circumstance of the hatchet being found in the garden, and Rachel’s rabbits being in his son’s possession—how could all that come about?”
“Oh, Josiah!” replied George, “the more I reveal of this dreadful business, the more shocking it will appear; but, as I have commenced the narration, I will continue it to the end.”
He then faithfully informed the young Quaker of the whole transaction, not sparing himself at all in the relation. Josiah was shocked and astonished at the depravity of heart, and the depth of dissimulation, that had been shown throughout this disgraceful affair; and, when George finished speaking, he grasped his hand firmly, and said:—
“Bless the hour, George, when the waters ingulfed thee, and the long and lingering illness which bowed down thy exhausted frame, if they were the means of snatching thee from guilt like this.”
“And, above all,” cried George, pressing Josiah’s hand to his heart, “the kind friend who not only forgave the injuries I had so undeservedly heaped upon his head, but saved my worthless life, at the peril of his own, and, by his unremitting care and advice, has brought me to a full conviction of my past guilt.”
“Say no more, George; I have only one request to make, which will sufficiently repay me for all my trouble. Let us go instantly to poor Lary and state the case to him; I cannot be happy till I have asked his pardon for the unjust suspicion which I have attached to his name. I know the honest creature so well that I am sure we shall never have any reason to repent trusting to his generosity.”