HERBERT was going farther and farther away from the “paths of pleasantness and peace." Very sad was it to notice the unhappy change that came over his once cheerful countenance. Now he looked dull and haggard; how could it be otherwise! The frauds must one day be discovered!
Mr. Sheppard had already thought, upon one or two occasions, that there ought to have been more money in the private part of his cash-box, and one morning, about a week before Christmas, he adopted a simple plan to test whether or not his suspicions were groundless. Herbert, little suspecting that a trap was laid, abstracted, during the course of the day, a ten-pound note, and no sooner did Mr. Sheppard discover that the note was not in the place where he had left it, than he called his most trustworthy clerk, and consulted with him about the matter.
Up to this moment, no suspicion had entered his mind as to the real culprit. His own thought was that Newton was the perpetrator of the theft.
He had never felt much confidence in that young gentleman's principles. Mr. Darnet, however, shook his head, and asked, with a look of anxiety,
"And who do you think has done it, sir?"
“I am afraid it is young Newton."
“I’m more afraid it may be Mr. Grahame," said the old man sadly. “His salary, I should judge, couldn't pay for what he spends." Shortly after, Herbert's presence was demanded in the office.
Infatuated by the delusive hope that the charge could not be proved, the unhappy young man denied all knowledge of the matter. Perplexed and angry at Herbert's obstinate refusal to acknowledge the truth, Mr. Sheppard finally sent for an officer of the police, and gave the youth into his charge. The note was discovered in his possession, and the miserable culprit was committed for trial.
Oh, the horror of those days of anguish, the burning misery of those hours of disgrace and shame! How can one speak of them? How can I, even at this distance of time, think of them without dismay?
It was Wednesday, and the trial would take place on Friday. The news of this terrible blow fell with crushing effect upon the family at Worcester.
Mr. Grahame hastened to Coventry. Who shall paint the harrowing scene between the father and his boy? I will not attempt it. Great was the interest displayed in court on behalf of the unhappy young man. His youth, his appearance, his former respectability were all in his favor.
But when that awful question was put to Herbert at the bar of justice, "guilty?" or “not guilty?" what could be the answer but "guilty, my lord "? Breathlessly those in court awaited the result of the trial. Never can be forgotten the scene of that winter's morning. Never! Never!
“Prisoner at the bar," said the judge, as he fixed his keen piercing eyes upon the youth now cowering with shame before the gaze of so many eyes, "We find you guilty of the charge brought against you, and therefore sentence you to six weeks' imprisonment." I saw Herbert bow his head, and felt the movement of his hand to his heart. Others saw that, too; but I heard him say to himself as he did so-
"Thank God it is no more than that!"
Ah, dear readers, is it not true as ever, that "the way of transgressors is hard"? Yes! Herbert now thought so as, on that never-to-be-forgotten day, he left that hall of justice.
Inside the thick, strong walls, the receptacle of crime and shame! Branded as the associate of murderers and blasphemers, I looked around. Not upon the person of poor, miserable, wretched Herbert might I hang now. I must remain silent on the shelf where I was placed until he was free.
Christmas day came at last! On Sunday, too, that sad year! Once, at least, in the week might those poor outcasts from society pause in their loveless labors. Haggard countenances passed me on their way to the upstairs chapel. Women who had once been gentle and tender as other women; men who had once walked in the paths of rectitude and honor, and Herbert-the once gay, winning Herbert-was amongst such as these now.
Texts telling of the awful judgment of the impenitent, startling one by their appropriateness to such a purpose, hung in various parts of those dismal chambers; but none telling of mercy "to the uttermost," none speaking of the efficacy of the " blood that cleanseth from all sin." Oh! why not give to those poor, remorse smitten, guilty men and women some anchor to which to moor the wreck of their immortal souls, before they drifted into the fathomless ocean of eternity? Why not? Why not?
"Call them in, the poor, the wretched,
Cow'ring 'neath the brand of shame;
Speak love's message low and tender,
'Twos for sinners Jesus came."
The service was over; short, simple, and solemn. And now while those sin-stricken hearts, some very hardened, some less callous, descended the long row of stone steps, the fingers of the organist were moving over the keys. Unconsciously and without premeditation he played a familiar air. How it thrilled through many a human heart! Strong men and women bowed their heads as they passed down, and sobbed aloud as they recognized the well-known tune of "Home, Sweet Home!" Poor Herbert! Five weeks more! God in His mercy help him.
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Over the deep waters of the broad Atlantic, over the briny ocean! Away from the spot where the finger of scorn might be lifted, away from the scenes of former temptation and guilt, away from the loving influence of mother, father, brother, sister; but not away from the remorse which must henceforth be his companion. A new life might open for him in another clime; but the old life might not be forgotten. Beneath the sun of a foreign sky must Herbert henceforth toil, with the remorseful knowledge in his aching heart of what had brought him there.
“I shall never see him again," said Mrs. Grahame to her husband, as sobs almost choked her utterance on the February morning that marked Herbert's departure.
“He is in the hands of God, dear mother," whispered Kate, as she strove with tender affection to allay her mother's grief. Mrs. Grahame's words were true. Not again did her fond eyes rest upon that earthly treasure!
This has been a sorrowful chapter, dear readers, but I trust the lessons which it contains may have their desired effect. Think of them. Lay them to heart and profit by them. Temptations and snares abound on every hand. We pass daily in and out amongst them. How shall we stand in moments of temptation? Ah! There is one sure refuge, there is one unfailing resource! May we not listen and hear those wonderful accents speaking to each tried, tempted one?-
“I will keep thee from the hour of temptation.... Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.... Call upon me in the day of trouble. I will answer thee."