that he must know what I had done, and would accuse me of it; and when
he met me in the yard at his door; patted my cheek with a half-laughing,
half-reproving look; asked why I had stayed away from him so long; and
said, that, to punish me, he should go and get me some very nice apples
from the garden;--I could bear it no longer. It seemed as though my
heart would break. What I said, I have now forgotten. I remember that I
cried very heartily, and, as soon as my tears would allow it, told him
the whole story!

I can still see, fresh in my memory, the sad look that came over him as
I confessed my crime; but not a single harsh or unkind word did he
utter. He told me that it was very wrong; that I had acted nobly in
confessing it; and that, if I had only asked him in the first place, he
would gladly have given me all I wanted.

Thinking I had suffered enough already, he promised not to tell my
parents, in case I continued a good boy, and advised me to destroy the
box and bring him back the nails, as no one could then suspect what had
been done but ourselves.

His kindness, I confess, pained me very much. I think nothing could have
tempted me to do him any wrong again.

I loved him better than ever before. He never alluded to the subject
afterwards, but I always thought of it when I saw him. He died in a
short time; and, twenty years after, as I stood by his grave, the
circumstance came up, clear and distinct, to my recollection. I have
not, indeed, from that to the present hour, felt the least temptation to
commit any wrong of the kind without recalling it; and, if all my young
readers will think seriously how much suffering that one act cost me,