'But why ask?' added he, suddenly: 'I know, that even now, through channels which were least dreamed of, justice is working its way to the light. Confirm me, great God!' added he, fervently, 'in my purpose of seeing right done; and grant that I may never swerve from my course, until that purpose is accomplished!'
Had the culprit against whom he uttered this invocation and prayer heard the muttered threat which succeeded it, and witnessed the kindling face and stern, determined eye of the person who had uttered them, his heart, had he been a man of ordinary mould, might have sunk; but as the culprit in this case was no other than Michael Rust, who had no belief in an hereafter; who entertained suspicion against all men, and who never yielded his point under any circumstances; it is possible that it would have produced no other result than increased watchfulness, increased determination, and bitter hatred.
'I have read of such schemes as these,' muttered Harson; 'but I never expected to have anything to do with them myself—never. Can there be no doubt that these came from Rust,' said he, turning them over in his hand? And is there no doubt that he is at the bottom of all this villainy? The letters certainly bear a different name from his; but such things are common; and Ned says that he can produce proof of it. They can scarcely be forgeries, vamped up to obtain money from me; for many of them were written years ago; and bear post-office stamps, whose dates correspond with the dates within.'
He stood at the table, thus talking to himself, and turning over the letters, until his eye rested on one written in a delicate hand, and indorsed, 'Mary Colton to Henry Colton.' Harson opened it, mechanically, and ran his eye over it. It was very short, and breathed a heart broken by some grief which was only alluded to, but not mentioned. It ran thus:
'My dear Henry: With all others, hope has darkened into despair; but I will not give up yet; I cannot. It would kill me, if I did. Go on, my dearest Henry; make all efforts. I feel that you have done all that can be done, and that all means have been tried without success; but even yet, do not cease; and I will pray for you, and bless you, for your disinterested kindness; and God will reward you.
'Yours, affectionately,
Mary Colton.'
"Disinterested kindness!" muttered Harson; "God will reward you!' Yes, 'Henry Colton,' God will reward you! Sooner or later, the reward always comes; and you'll get it. Yes, if I live, 'Henry Colton,' it shall be my especial business to see that you receive it!' 'But,' said he, looking at the clock, 'enough of this. It would almost make a young man gray to wade through the details of such villainy. An old man like me must spare himself. I've had enough for one dose; so I'll sleep on it, and take the rest in the morning. Ha! Spite,' said he, stooping down, and patting the dog; 'better be a good, honest dog, like thee, my old cur, than a man with such a heart as some have. The temper's a trifle, Spite; so don't be worried about your's, for your heart's right, my old dog! There's no double-dealing about you. I don't know whether God blesses an honest dog, or not; but I believe he does, in some way or other. Come pup, I'll not keep you up longer.'
Saying this, he gathered up the papers, and placed them in a small box, which he locked, put under his arm, and followed by Spite, left the room, for the story above. He paused, and listened at a door at the head of the stairs; then turning the knob so as to make no noise, he went in. It was a small room, having a thick rag-carpet on the floor, and a dressing-table covered with white muslin, standing between the windows, whose curtains were as white as snow. In one corner was a bed. On a chair, at the side of it, lay a child's clothes; and in the bed itself was a girl, of about five years of age, with her light hair streaming over the pillow like a web of gold. There was little trace in her face of the outcast whom he had taken from the streets but a few weeks before; for the thin cheek had filled up, and the flush of health had succeeded the paleness of suffering and illness. Her eyes were closed, and their long lashes drooped over her cheek; but she did not sleep soundly; for once or twice she muttered to herself, as Harson bent over her: 'Come, Charley; we've been looking for you a long time. Come!'
'She's dreaming of the boy,' thought he; 'but be of good heart, my poor child; we'll find him yet.'
He leaned down, until his gray hair mingled with her bright locks, pressed his lips to her forehead, and went quietly out into the entry, where his presence was greeted with no little satisfaction by Spite, who had been shut out, and was becoming somewhat testy at being kept in the dark.
It was not long before Harson, with a thick counterpane up to his very chin, was sleeping as soundly in his own bed as Spite was under it.