or mend.

"'Me good friend,' said he, one evening after we had been a long
time at work, 'I wish thou could'st teach me how to mend a broken
life. For God's sake, help me! I am fainting under a great
burden.'

"'What can I do?' said I to him.

"Then, sor, he went over his story with me from beginning to end.
It was an impressive, a sacred confidence. Ah, boy, it would be
dishonour to tell thee his name, but his story, that I may tell
thee, changing the detail, so it may never add a straw to his
burden. I shall quote him in substance only, an' follow the long
habit o' me own tongue.

"'Well, ye remember how me son was taken,' said he. 'I could not
raise the ransom, try as I would. Now, large sums were in me
keeping an' I fell. I remember that day. Ah! man, the devil
seemed to whisper to me. But, God forgive! it was for love that I
fell. Little by little I began to take the money I must have an'
cover its absence. I said to meself, some time I'll pay it
back--that ancient sophistry o' the devil. When me thieving had
gone far, an' near its goal, the bank burned. As God's me witness
I'd no hand in that. I weighed the chances an' expected to go to
prison--well, say for ten years, at least. I must suffer in order
to save the boy, an' was ready for the sacrifice. Free again, I
would help him to return the money. That burning o' the records
shut off the prison, but opened the fire o' hell upon me. Half a
year had gone by, an' not a word from the kidnappers. I took a
note to the place appointed,--a hollow log in the woods, a bit east
of a certain bridge on the public highway twenty miles out o' the
city,--but no answer,--not a word,--not a line up to this moment.
They must have relinquished hope an' put the boy to death.

"'In that old trunk there under the bed is a dusty, moulding,
cursed heap o' money done up in brown paper an' tied with a string.
It is a hundred thousand dollars, an' the price o' me soul.'

"'An' thou in rags an' a garret,' said I.

"'An' I in rags an' hell,' said he, sor, looking down at himself.

"He drew out the trunk an' showed me the money, stacks of it,
dirty, an' stinking o' damp mould.

"'There it is,' said he, 'every dollar I stole is there. I brought
it with me an' over these hundreds o' miles I could hear the tongue
o' gossip. Every night as I lay down I could hear the whispering
of all the people I ever knew. I could see them shake their heads.
Then came this l