"That is true: I was not thinking of myself. The real sting of the cockatrice is, that I have innocently misled you."
"Yet I understood you to say you had ventured your all?"
"My all of hope—my all of expectation!" Mr. Blessing cried. "I dreamed I had overtaken the rainbow at last; but this—this is senna—quassia—aloes! My nature is so confiding that I accept the possibilities of the future as present realities, and build upon them as if they were Quincy granite. And yet, with all my experience, my acknowledged sagacity, my acquaintance with the hidden labyrinths of finance, it seems impossible that I can be so deceived! There must be some hideous misunderstanding: I have calculated all the elements, prognosticated all the planetary aspects, so to speak, and have not found a whisper of failure!"
"You omitted one very important element," Joseph said.
"What is that? I might have employed a detective, it is true—"
"No!" Joseph replied. "Honesty!"
Mr. Blessing fell back in his chair, weeping bitterly.
"I deserve this!" he exclaimed. "I will not resent it. I forgive you in advance of the time when you shall recognize my sincere, my heartfelt wish to serve you! Go, go: let me not recriminate! meant to be, and still mean to be, your friend: but spare my too confiding child!"
Without a word of good-by, Joseph took his hat and hastened from the house. At every step the abyss of dishonesty seemed to open deeper before his feet. Spare the too confiding child! Father and daughter were alike: both mean, both treacherous, both unpardonably false to him.
With such feelings he left the city next morning, and made his way homewards.
