My wound is incurable, and the
hand of a wicked son has dealt the blow."
'"Father! what do you mean? I do not understand these terrible words;"
and the boy raised the calm, inquiring glance of his clear, candid eyes
to the father's clouded brow and rigid face. "In what manner can I have
offended you?"
'"Miserable boy, if you had only offended _me_, I could bear it
and forgive you; but you have committed a crime against God--a crime so
great, that the felon who will be hung next week at N---- for murder is
innocent in comparison."
'George gazed steadily into his father's face as he said slowly, and
with blanched and quivering lips, "What have I done?"
'"Robbed the poor! Stolen thirty pounds in gold from that box"
(pointing to the poor's box on the table before him); "and you dare to
ask me what you have done, and, knowing your guilt, to raise your
hardened eyes to mine!"
'The hot blood rushed in a crimson tide into the face of the accused;
he drew up his slight figure to its full height, and looked a man in
the strength of his indignation. "The guilty alone are cowards," he
said, softening the vehemence of his manner; "it is only truth that
dare look at justice without quailing. If I am guilty of the crime of
which you accuse me, father, I am no longer worthy to be your son. Who,
then, is my accuser? Who charges me with the guilt of a crime so base?
Who dares to tell me to my face that I did this foul wrong?"
'"One who saw you do it.
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