away.
"Into my young soul there came a longing. 'Oh!' I said to myself, 'thatmy parents had belonged to the same social grade as that worthy couplereposing in that bed; and oh! that I, in my infancy, had been asbeautiful and as likely to be so carefully nurtured and cultured as thatsweet babe in the next room.' I almost heaved a sigh as I thought of thedifference between these surroundings and my own, but I checked myself;it would not do to made a noise and spoil my father's joke.
"There were a great many things in that luxurious apartment which itwould have delighted me to look upon and examine, but I forbore."
"I wish I'd been there," said the stout man; "there wouldn't have beenany forbearin'."
The speaker turned sharply upon him.
"Don't you interrupt me again," he said angrily. Then, instantlyresuming his deferential tone, he continued the story.
"But I had come there by the command of my parent, and this command mustbe obeyed without trifling or loss of time. My father did not approve oftrifling or loss of time. I moved quietly toward the table in thecorner, on which stood my father's box. I was just about to put my handupon it when I heard a slight movement behind me. I gave a start andglanced backward. It was Mr. Williamson Green turning over in his bed;what if he should awake? His back was now toward me, and my impulse wasto fly and leave everything behind me; but my father had ordered me tobring the box, and he expected his orders to be obeyed. I had often beenconvinced of that.
"I stood perfectly motionless for a minute or so, and when the gentlemanrecommenced his regular and very audible breathing I felt it safe toproceed with my task. Taking hold of the box I found it was much heavierthan I expected it to be; but I moved gently away with it and passedinto the back room.
"There I could not refrain from stopping a moment by the side of thesleeping babe, upon whose cherub-like face the light of the night lampdimly shone. The little child was still sleeping sweetly, and my impulsewas to stop and kiss it; but I knew that this would be wrong. The infantmight awake and utter a cry and my father's joke be spoiled. I moved tothe open window, and with some trouble, and, I think, without any noise,I succeeded in getting out upon the trellis with the box under my arm.The descent was awkward, but my father was a tall man, and, reachingupward, relieved me of my burden before I got to the ground.
"'I didn't remember it was so heavy,' he whispered, 'or I should havegiven you a rope to lower it down by. If you had dropped it and spoiledmy instruments, and made a lot of noise besides, I should have beenangry enough.'
"I was very glad my father was not angry, and following him over thegreensward we quickly reached the boat, where the box was stowed awayunder the bow to keep it from injury.
"We pushed off as quietly as possible and rowed swiftly down the river.When we had gone about a mile I suddenly dropped my oar with anexclamation of dismay.
"'What's the matter?' cried my father.
"'Oh, I have done a dreadful thing!' I said. 'Oh, father, I must goback!'
"I am sorry to say that at this my father swore.
"'What do you want to go back for?' he said.
"'Just to think of it! I have left open the window in which thatbeautiful child was sleeping. If it should take cold and die from thedamp air of the river blowing upon it I should never forgive myself. Oh,if I had only thought of climbing up the trellis again and pulling downthat sash! I am sure I could go back and do it without making the leastnoise.' My father gave a grunt; but what the grunt meant I do not know,and for a few moments he was silent, and then he said:--
"'Thomas, you cannot go back; the distance is too great, the tide isagainst us, and it is time that you and I were both in our beds. Nothingmay happen to that baby; but, attend to my words now, if any harm shouldcome to that child it will go hard with you. If it should die it wouldbe of no use for you to talk about practical jokes. You would be heldresponsible for its death. I was going to say to you that it might be aswell for you not to say anything about this little venture until I hadseen how Williamson Green took the joke. Some people get angry with verylittle reason, although I hardly believe he's that sort of a man; butnow things are different. He thinks all the world of that child, whichis the only one they've got; and if you want to stay outside of jail orthe house of refuge I warn you never to say a word of where you havebeen this night.'
"With this he began to row again, and I followed his example, but with avery heavy heart. All that night I dreamt of the little child with thedamp night winds blowing in upon it."
"Did you ever hear if it caught cold?" asked Aunt Martha.
"No," replied the burglar, "I never did. I mentioned the matter to myfather, and he said that he had great fears upon the subject, foralthough he had written to Williamson Green, asking him to return theinstruments, he had not seen him or heard from him, and he was afraidthat the child had died or was dangerously sick. Shortly after that myfather sent me on a little trip to the Long Island coast to collect somebills from people for whom he had done work. He gave me money to stay aweek or two at the seashore, saying that the change would do me good;and it was while I was away on this delightful holiday that an eventoccurred which had a most disastrous effect upon my future life. Myfather was arrested for burglary!
"It appeared--and I cannot tell you how shocked I was when I discoveredthe truth--that the box which I had carried away did not containnautical instruments, but was filled with valuable plate and jewels. Myunfortunate father heard from a man who had been discharged from theservice of the family whose house he had visited--whose name, by theway, was not Green--where the box containing the valuables mentioned wasalways placed at night, and he had also received accurate information inregard to the situation of the rooms and the best method of gainingaccess to them.
"I believe that some arrangement had been made between my father andthis discharged servant in regard to a division of the contents of thebox, and it was on account of a disagreement on this subject that theman became very angry, and after pocketing what my father thought washis fair share he departed to unknown regions, leaving behind a note tothe police which led to my father's arrest."
"That was a mean trick," said Aunt Martha.
The burglar looked at her gratefully.
"In the lower spheres of life, madam, such things often happen. Some ofthe plate and jewels were found in my father's possession, and he wasspeedily tried and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment. And now,can you imagine, ladies," said the tall burglar, apparently havingbecome satisfied to address himself to Aunt Martha, as well as my wife,"the wretched position in which I found myself? I was upbraided as theson of a thief. I soon found myself without home, without occupation,and, alas! without good reputation. I was careful not to mention myvoluntary connection with my father's crime for fear that should I do soI might be compelled to make a statement which might increase theseverity of his punishment. For this reason I did not dare to makeinquiries concerning the child in whom I had taken such an interest,and whose little life I had, perhaps, imperilled. I never knew, ladies,whether that infant grew up or not.
"But I, alas! grew up to a life of hardship and degradation. It would beimpossible for persons in your sphere of life to understand what I nowwas obliged to suffer. Suitable employment I could not obtain, because Iwas the son of a burglar. With a father in the State prison, it was ofno use for me to apply for employment at any respectable place ofbusiness. I laboured at one thing and another, sometimes engaging in themost menial employments. I also had been educated and brought up by mydear mother for a very different career. Sometimes I managed to livefairly well, sometimes I suffered. Always I suffered from the stigma ofmy father's crime, always in the eyes of the community in which Ilived--a community, I am sorry to say, incapable, as a rule, of makingcorrect judgments in delicate cases like these--I was looked upon asbelonging to the ranks of the dishonest. It was a hard lot, andsometimes almost impossible to bear up under.
"I have spoken at length, ladies, in order that you may understand mytrue posi
tion; and I wish to say that I have never felt the crushingweight of my father's disgrace more deeply than I felt it last evening.This man," nodding toward the stout burglar, "came to me shortly after Ihad eaten my supper, which happened to be a frugal one, and said tome:--
"'Thomas, I have some business to attend to to-night, in which you canhelp me if you choose. I know you are a good mechanic.'
"'If it is work that will pay me,' I answered, 'I should be very glad todo it, for I am greatly in need of money.'
"'It will pay,' said he; and I agreed to assist him.
"As we were walking to the station, as the business to be attended towas out of town, this man, whose