“Oh, it is such a comfort to hear you say this,” Virgie murmured, her voice husky with emotion, her eyes filled with tears.  “Poor papa! his last years were embittered with the thought that every one believed him a defaulter—­that he had not one friend in all the world, save his daughter, who had faith in him.”

“He made a great mistake in leaving San Francisco as he did,” Mr. Knight remarked.  “If he had remained here and quietly lived down the scandal, he might in time have recovered the confidence of the people.”

“Oh! if the stain could be removed from his name and memory!” sighed Virgie.

“I do not like to pain you, my dear,” replied Mr. Knight, sympathetically; “but that would be very difficult to accomplish, unless that cashier should come forward and make a full confession.”

Virgie looked up, startled, her face growing very white.

“I saw him here in the city last year,” she said.

“Impossible!” exclaimed her friend.

“I am very sure I was not mistaken,” Virgie affirmed and then she told the publisher the circumstances of her being followed by that muffled figure and of the advertisement which appeared in the papers a day or two following, desiring communication with her.

“I am afraid that you have made a mistake this time,” said Mr. Knight, thoughtfully.  “You ought to have communicated with the man.”

“But I had such a horror of him; I could not believe that he would be able to tell me of anything to my advantage.”

“At least he could have done you no harm, and he might have told you something worth knowing.  Promise me, if anything of the same nature occurs again, you will let me know.  If he could be arrested he might be forced to a confession of the truth.”

Virgie was greatly disturbed by this view of the matter, and regretted that she had not had more wisdom at the time.  She readily promised to do as Mr. Knight wished, though she feared she might never again have the opportunity.

“Now that the ice has been broken, and I know who you are, tell me something of your life among the mountains,” said her friend.  “I fear it must have been a very dreary and monotonous one.”

“It was a very quiet and peaceful one,” Virgie answered with a sigh, as she thought of the storms she had buffeted since.  “Papa’s claim proved to be an excellent one, and he made a good deal of money from it; and after we became somewhat used to the change in our life, it was not so bad.”

“But all his earnings there had to be sacrificed also.  My poor child; what a hard lot has been yours!  I almost wonder at your having any faith whatever in human nature,” said Mr. Knight, feelingly.

“I am sure that you have proved to me that there is at least one noble man in the world,” Virgie returned, gratefully.  “I shall never forget your kindness to me, Mr. Knight; you have been a true friend to me.”