RAY'S DECISION AND ITS RESULT.
While in the Afton Graded School, Ray had become familiar with a code
of communication among the scholars, wherein numerals were used for
the consonants, and certain consonants for the vowels. He knew Edward
Lawton was equally familiar with the code, and entering the telegraph
office, he embodied the following message in the apparently meaningless
symbols, and had it forwarded to him:
Please translate this message and hand to Mr. Bacon.
Have Blake, I. T. Smith, and my father arrested as accomplices
of Hyde. There is no mistake about this. On my arrival, at eight
o'clock to-night, I will make a full explanation. Make the arrests
before two o'clock, or their confederates here will warn them to
escape. Let me hear from you, if possible, before two. Direct to me
at this office.
RAY BRANFORD.
It cost quite a sum to send the message, but Ray paid the amount
cheerfully, and telling the operator he would call for a reply, he went
on to the nearest restaurant and got his dinner. On his return to the
office half an hour later, he found this message awaiting him, in the
same code that he had employed:
Your message was received, and as Edward was not at home, I
translated it, and carried it to Mr. Bacon. He directs me to say
that the officers have already been sent to make the arrests, and
he will report their success before two, if possible.
DAISY LAWTON.
"It is a strange code you are using," remarked the operator,
inquisitively, as Ray slowly deciphered the message.
"Yes, sir," Ray quietly admitted; then he said: "There may be another
message for me before two o'clock. I will call for it."
He now left the office, and walked briskly about the streets, admiring
the massive buildings and the other evidences of thrift and enterprise
for which the city was noted. Fifteen minutes before two he returned
for his expected message.
"There is none," the operator replied; "but it is not yet two, and we
may receive it any moment."
Ray waited five minutes, and then turned to go, saying:
"I have an engagement at two, so will call later for the message."
"Hold on," the operator answered, "there's a message coming over the
wires, and by the sound, I think it is in your peculiar code." And
he gave his attention to his indicator. A moment later he brought
the message to Ray, who hurried up the street with it in his hand,
deciphering it as he went. It read:
Blake was found hanging around the telegraph office, and was
Immediately arrested. The officers have not yet returned from the
Forge, but there is little doubt that the other two will be secured.
BACON.
Ray reached Powell Street, and with a feeling of triumph ran up the
stairway in No. 27, to Room 3. He was a little late, and could detect a
slight appearance of anxiety on the faces of the two men awaiting him,
probably on account of his delay in coming.
"Well, sir, what is your decision?" was his sharp greeting from Mr.
Gregory, while Mr. Wilson gazed intently into his face, as though he
would read his inmost thought.
Ray did not keep them waiting long for his answer. Walking down the
room to the chair he had occupied when in the room before, he laid one
hand upon its back, and looked his tempters squarely in their faces.
There was no show of fear in his eyes, and no tremor in his clear,
ringing tones, as he replied:
"Gentlemen, I have cause to thank you for your unprecedented offer
of this morning. I have reason to thank you, because it has shown
me clearly and emphatically the position I was unconsciously
occupying--the strange neglect of duty I had for weeks been guilty
of. But let me assure you I have not quite reached the point that I
am ready to sell my manhood for even one thousand dollars, great as
that sum seems to me. As proof of this, let me tell you that I went
directly from this room to a telegraph office, and this return telegram
in my hand states that Blake is already under arrest, and that the
other criminals soon would be. I can only add, at the trial I shall
tell 'the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.' Good-day,
gentlemen." And before either of the men could make a movement to stop
him, had that been their desire, he had turned and left the room.
The next train for Afton did not leave the city until four o'clock, so
Ray wandered on down the streets, with little thought as to just where
he was going. A peace that had long been absent from his heart had
returned; his conscience, which had so long been at variance with his
action, had now come into perfect accord. He was happier than he had at
any time been since the night of the fire. Humbled by his experience,
yet so sweetly conscious was he of the Master's nearness and the
Master's forgiveness, that he could not but repeat the words of one of
God's children, written long before; words that thousands of humbled
and penitent hearts have found so exactly suited, each to his own
individual case: "Have mercy upon me, O Lord, according to thy loving
kindness;... Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and uphold me
with thy free spirit. Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and
sinners shall be converted unto thee."
So busy was Ray with his own thoughts, that he did not notice that he
had wandered beyond the limits of the city proper, and was now in one
of its growing suburbs. He was aroused from his pre-occupied condition
by suddenly finding himself face to face with a number of large and
magnificent buildings, surrounded by extensive lawns, upon which were
long rows of tall and stately elms.
An old white-haired gentleman stood by the fence that shut off the lawn
from the street, and Ray, stopping, asked him what buildings they were.
The old man turned slowly around and looked curiously at the lad.
"They are the university buildings," he slowly replied; "and, my lad,
sixty years ago, when I was scarcely older than you, I entered them
as a student. There have been great changes since then. The college
has prospered. New buildings have been erected and the campus has been
beautified--but, ah! those were delightful days! I hope, my lad, you
love to study, and may one day graduate from this honored institution
of learning."
"I cannot tell you, sir," replied Ray, "how I hope for that very thing
myself; but God alone knows whether I shall be able to do it."
"May he lead you on to a full realization of your hopes," responded the
old gentleman, solemnly. "Here is my card, and if I can ever be of any
service to you, let me know. May I ask your name in return?"
"Ray Branford," replied the lad looking at the card laid in his own
hand. It was a plain card, with simply the name, Charles T. Swinburne,
upon it. But Ray knew who he was, and looked almost reverently up into
his face. The name of that old gentleman was known in every household
of that State, in many a household throughout the land. As scholar, as
philanthropist, as a worker in every true and holy cause, was he known;
his voice had ever been raised, his purse had ever been open, on behalf
of the lowly and oppressed. Even now, in his ripe old age, it was no
light influence for good he was still wielding.
"I have heard my pastor, Mr. Carleton, of the First Church, Afton,
speak of you," Ray ventured to say; "and I thank you for the kind and
encouraging words you have spoken to me to-day."
"I know Ralph Carleton," answered the old man, heartily. "I knew his
father before him. You may safely listen to his counsel, for he speaks
as moved by the Spirit of God. When you return home, tell him you have
met me, and that I say: 'God be with thee.'"
Bidding Mr. Swinburne good-bye, Ray now hurried off toward the
city, knowing he barely had time to catch his train. But the slight
circumstance of that meeting was, as he found in later years, one of
God's links welded into the providential chain that was drawing him on
to his life's work.
The train arrived at Afton soon after eight, and Ray, as he stepped
out on to the platform, found Mr. Bacon, Mr. Carleton, and Mr. Woodhull
waiting for him. Mr. Woodhull had come up from the farm to meet an
earlier train, on which he had expected Ray. As the lad did not come
on that, however, he had delayed his return home until the arrival of
the eight o'clock train. At the depot he had met Mr. Bacon and Mr.
Carleton, and they told him of Ray's telegram, though none understood
the cause of his delay, nor just what he would have to reveal.
Ray's first question, as he shook hands with his three friends, was:
"Have the two other men been found?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Bacon; "all three are now in the lockup, and we have
been anxiously awaiting your coming. Would you prefer to see me alone,
or shall Mr. Carleton and Mr. Woodhull go with us?"
"I prefer to have all of you present as I tell my story," said Ray,
gravely. "Let us go to some place where we may be undisturbed. It is a
long and a strange experience I have to relate."
"We might go up to Dr. Gasque's office," suggested Mr. Carleton.
They soon reached the office, and Ray, sparing not himself at all,
began with the night of the fire, and told of his discovery, of his
false notion of duty, and of his strange interview with the two men in
the city, and how he had outwitted them.
Mr. Carleton was the first to speak after he had finished. "Your
mistake, Ray," he said, "was perhaps a natural one; it certainly was
one many an older person might have made. But you can now see that,
after all, it was a course of deception. You were living a lie; for you
were saying by your silence that you did not know who the criminals
were."
"Those men must fear your testimony greatly, Ray, to offer you such
an inducement to preserve silence," remarked Mr. Woodhull. "You say
their names were Wilson and Gregory? I thought Hyde's lawyer was named
Sanford."
"Oh, these men were acting for Sanford," replied Mr. Bacon. "Wilson is
probably some friend of Hyde's, and Gregory is some lawyer employed for
this work. It isn't likely that either of the men gave his right name,
and that room was one they had just hired for this interview. They
intended to cover up their own tracks whether they succeeded or failed
in their attempted bribery. Blake knew of that meeting, for all the
forenoon and up to the time of his arrest he was around the depot, and
he told the operator if any message came for him he should be within
call. Those fellows intended to telegraph him if they could not buy Ray
into silence. He got the better of them by telegraphing first. I have
been thinking, Ray, whether your father would not be willing to turn
state's evidence, and go on the stand as a witness against the others.
What do you think?"
Ray gave him a grateful look, as he replied:
"I don't know, sir. I cannot help feeling that father was forced into
this thing, or led into it while under the influence of liquor. When
sober, he is usually ready to do the fair thing; it certainly can do no
harm to make him the offer. I want to see him, and tell him just how I
came to do as I have done. So, if Mr. Woodhull is willing, I will come
up to the village to-morrow, and we will go and see him."
Mr. Woodhull readily assented, and then Ray and he drove off home. The
next day the lad returned to the village, and, in company with Mr.
Bacon, he visited the jail. They found Mr. Branford sober, but sullen;
and at first he paid little attention to Ray's story. As the boy went
on, however, to describe his encounter with Hyde, on the night of
the fire, his father manifested some interest; and before he had got
through with the account of his own struggle to believe it was right to
shield his father in his crime, and the story of his interview with the
two men in the city which had so plainly revealed his duty to him, the
old man broke down. Great tears streamed down his cheeks, and as soon
as he could control himself, he said:
"Did they think, Ray, they could bribe you with money to do their dirty
work? I could have told them better than that; but I knew nothing of
this undertaking. Don't think I hold anything against you, lad, for
causing my arrest. I've been tempted to give myself up a half dozen
times since the fire. Perhaps a few years in jail will make a man of
me--for it will keep me sober. It's my only hope of salvation, anyway;
and, Ray, you'll sometimes come to see me; and you'll never forget to
pray for your old father."
"Never!" replied Ray, emphatically. "And perhaps, father, this is God's
way of bringing you to himself. I have prayed for you, night and day,
ever since I gave myself to him. I couldn't bear that you should be
sent to prison; for I thought it would so harden you, that you would
never come to Jesus. But God's ways are not as our ways; and it may be
God's hand is leading you where you will think more of him, and learn
to love him."
The old man bowed his head on his hands and wept like a child, and said:
"Don't think, Ray, that I haven't been pleased with the change you and
George and the girls have made in your lives. I've been proud of you
all, and down in my heart I've longed for the same thing. But I thought
there was no hope for an old sinner like me."
"'Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come
unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them,'"
repeated Ray, softly.
"Perhaps there is hope for me, after all," murmured the repentant man.
Mr. Bacon ventured now to suggest his plan to Mr. Branford, and assured
him that the directors of the mill would willingly allow him to take
the witness stand against his companions in crime.
"I shall tell the whole truth," replied he, slowly, "but I ask no
favors on that account. I am willing to take the punishment I deserve.
I am more afraid of myself and my appetite for rum, than all other
things beside. Please allow me to go to prison," he begged, piteously;
"for then there may be some hopes for me."
Hyde was the only one of the four criminals who actually stood trial.
He was convicted through the united testimony of Mr. Branford, Ray,
and the detective who had caused his arrest. Blake, Smith, and Mr.
Branford, all pleaded guilty. As in Hyde's trial it had been shown that
he and Blake were the instigators and leaders in the work of burning
the mills, each of them received a sentence of five years. Smith and
Mr. Branford were given three and two years respectively. Mr. Branford,
sober, neatly dressed, and cleanly shaved, received his sentence almost
with joy on his face. "You might have made it longer, judge," he said,
with a bow. "Perhaps it will be the making of me. I feel that it will."
George and Ray had stood by him to the last, and accompanied him to the
prison gates. There they bade him good-bye, promising to write often,
and to come occasionally to see him. "We shall, every evening, at nine
o'clock, wherever we are, pray for you," Ray said, in parting; "and
here is my Bible, father, with many passages I have found precious
marked in it. Promise me you will read it, and that you will try and
pray for yourself."
"I will, Ray, and I thank you for the book. Nor shall I forget the time
you are praying for me. Don't feel bad about my going into these walls.
I tell you, God knows what's best for a man. I really feel there is
some hopes of my reaching heaven. How tickled your ma will be to see
me there!" And, brushing the tears from his eyes, he turned and walked
firmly within the massive gates, which closed upon him for two long
years.
Ray and George were at church together the next Sunday. Mr. Beacon came
to them at the close of the service, and said:
"Can you both call at my house to-morrow evening? I have something I
want to tell you."
So the next evening the brothers went up to Mr. Bacon's house. That
gentleman received them in his library, and at once proceeded to
business.
"You both know," he said, "how there was but little insurance on the
mills, and that the company was ruined when they were burned. Mr.
Lawton was the heaviest loser, and so great was his loss that Mrs.
Lawton will be obliged to sell her mansion. She has a small cottage of
her own, and hopes to save enough out of the estate to support her and
the two children until Edward is able to work for them, I did not have
so much invested in the mills, and so have not lost as heavily. Last
week I bought a small mill, employing about fifty hands, in the village
of Wenton, about twenty miles down the railroad. I want a good, honest
fellow to go down there as my superintendent and general overseer,
though I shall be down there nearly every day. What do you think,
George; would you be willing to go down there for me?"
"Do you think I would do?" asked George, in suppressed excitement. "I
would try very hard to suit you."
"I don't doubt it, George. You are honest, and that is the main thing.
All the rest, with my shewing, you can easily learn," replied Mr.
Bacon, heartily. "I have a nice house down there for you, and will give
you, for the present, two dollars a day. You may take your sisters down
too, and we'll find work for them."
"How can I thank you, sir?" George answered, turning first red, and
then pale, with his intense emotion.
"By doing your best," replied Mr. Bacon. Then he turned to Ray. "I was
also going to tell you something this evening, Ray, that I supposed I
had the right to," he said, "but Mr. Carleton has convinced me that it
is his own exclusive privilege; so, really, I shall have to refer you
to him." And he rather enjoyed Ray's puzzled looks.
As the brothers walked down the street on their way home, for Ray was
going back to the Forge that night, George said:
"Here for a few weeks I have been distrusting God again, and see just
what he has done for me, Ray. I will doubt him no more. I was going to
worry over getting down to Wenton, but I won't even do that. God will
provide a way."
"He has already," replied Ray, with a smile, "for I have enough money
left of what I had saved to take you all down there, and start you off
in your new home in good shape. I am so glad for you, George."
"Have you given up the academy?" asked George, anxiously.
"No; a thousand times no!" replied Ray. "But God will open the way when
it is right for me to go. Perhaps, for my neglect of duty, he wishes me
to wait awhile. I shall work on, abiding his own time. You can have the
money as well as not."
"I will accept it as a loan," George replied. "I have so regarded all
the money you have given me, Ray, and you shall have it, principal and
interest, as soon as I can save it."
"Perhaps it will be along by the time I am ready for the academy,
then," replied Ray, with a good-natured laugh. "Just as though every
cent of the money didn't belong to you."
He was to go to the academy, however, and even sooner than he thought.
Already had God opened the way.
The next Friday evening Ray was in his accustomed place in the prayer
room. His voice had the old, positive ring in it, as he arose and
testified for Jesus. The subject for the evening had been based upon
the words: "I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of
mine." Taking up the thought of this verse, Ray said:
"I can testify to-night that these words are true. The result of my
recent trying experience is this--I never knew Jesus as I know him now.
I never loved him as I love him now. I never realized what it was to
hold near and intimate relationship with him as I realize now. Because
I did not, in the hour of my great temptation, wholly deny his name,
he has drawn closer to me, and our relations have become so sweet
and tender, that I can hear him say, not only: 'Fear not, for I have
redeemed thee,' but he adds, 'I have called thee by thy name.'"