I confess with shame--and I now
beseech your pardon for it--that I said to the ruined stranger all of the
words contained in the test-remark, including the disparaging fifteen.
[Sensation.] When the late publication was made I recalled them, and I
resolved to claim the sack of coin, for by every right I was entitled to
it. Now I will ask you to consider this point, and weigh it well; that
stranger's gratitude to me that night knew no bounds; he said himself
that he could find no words for it that were adequate, and that if he
should ever be able he would repay me a thousandfold. Now, then, I ask
you this; could I expect--could I believe--could I even remotely
imagine--that, feeling as he did, he would do so ungrateful a thing as to
add those quite unnecessary fifteen words to his test?--set a trap for
me?--expose me as a slanderer of my own town before my own people
assembled in a public hall? It was preposterous; it was impossible. His
test would contain only the kindly opening clause of my remark. Of that
I had no shadow of doubt. You would have thought as I did. You would
not have expected a base betrayal from one whom you had befriended and
against whom you had committed no offence.
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