Digital heart book

Here was a rude blow: my father would
have taken it ill enough in any case; for however much
a man may resent the incapacity of an only son, he will
feel his own more sensibly. But it chanced that, in
our bitter cup of failure, there was one ingredient
that might truly be called poisonous. He had been
keeping the run of my position; he missed the three
thousand dollars, paper; and in his view, I had stolen
thirty dollars, currency. It was an extreme view
perhaps; but in some senses, it was just: and my
father, although (to my judgment) quite reckless of
honesty in the essence of his operations, was the soul
of honour as to their details. I had one grieved
letter from him, dignified and tender; and during the
rest of that wretched term, working as a clerk, selling
my clothes and sketches to make futile speculations, my
dream of Paris quite vanished. I was cheered by no
word of kindness and helped by no hint of counsel from
my father.
All the time he was no doubt thinking of little else
but his son, and what to do with him.


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