AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND
Howard paused and looked up at Ray with a dazed, hopeless expression
of face. Neither Ray nor I spoke a word for several minutes. We had
listened to Howard’s narrative with mingled feelings of horror and
pity. Neither of us had known him except as a college mate; and while
we had never been attracted to him, we had not, until recently, found
any cause to dislike him. We knew him to be one of a fast crowd, and
had always avoided a chance of close companionship. Of his gambling
proclivities we had known a little and suspected more.
Rumors had reached us of the card playing that was carried on in his
room during Junior year; but we had supposed that this was broken up,
and knew nothing of his joining a crowd of town men. His confession was
therefore a terrible shock to us, revealing as it did a far greater
familiarity with vicious habits than we ever suspected him of, and
showing to what depths he had sunk. We could scarcely believe our ears,
and only the convicting circumstances under which we had found him in
Ray’s room made the story credible.
Ray was looking at him fixedly, his face clearly indicating the strange
feelings that filled his breast.
“But, Howard,” he said at length, “I am still unable to understand this
last act of yours. Your case is desperate, I own, but what could have
brought you in here? To steal, you say. Yet, it is hard to believe that
you have sunk so low.”
“Understand it! Of course you can’t understand it,” burst out Howard.
“You must go through all that I have to understand it. You must yield
first to one temptation and then to another, and so on down, down,
down, till there seems to be nothing left to stand on; till you have
lost all pride, all self respect, and care for nothing, till you are
perfectly hopeless, and ruin and wretchedness stare you in the face;
till you tremble instinctively at every footstep, fearing that exposure
is on your track, till everybody seems to point you out as a guilty,
contemptible wretch, and you grow reckless, desperate, and don’t care
where you go or what you do; then, then you will understand this mad
act, and then you will understand what I feel now.”
“Howard,” cried Ray, his voice trembling with feeling, “don’t speak so.
It is terrible.”
“It is only the truth,” answered Howard, his tone resuming its former
key of despondency. “When I came in here I was half dazed, and scarcely
knew what I was doing. I had some vague idea of getting money or
valuables some way, and averting the crash for a while. When I saw your
door open I remembered that you had handsome rooms and many costly
things, and before I could think twice I was in. Driven to extremes as
I was, I did not reason the matter, but began searching for money or
something that would bring money. Oh, don’t try to shame me by calling
it bad names! It isn’t necessary. With all that I have done, I felt
that I was a wretched, despicable criminal every minute that I went
about plundering your things. As it is I’m glad――yes, I’m glad I’m
caught. It is all over with me, and it serves me right.”
Howard’s words cut me keenly. Such utter wretchedness I had never
witnessed. His voice was broken, his eyes full of tears.
Whatever may have been the struggle in Ray’s bosom, it was plainly over
now. He rose, and stepped forward to where Howard was sitting. The
latter did not look up.
“Howard,” Ray said firmly, “you have sunk low――very low, indeed. You
have reached the bottom. Do you suppose you could ever build yourself
up again?”
Howard looked up in wonder at the question.
“Build myself up? No. I’ll never have the chance. I’m down, and I have
no such hope.”
“But when you had a chance,” continued Ray, “before it was too late,
did you never think about yourself, and see where you were going?”
“Not until I was going too fast to stop,” answered Howard despondently.
“Then I thought――oh, the many nights I spent thinking, thinking,
thinking! Longing to have a clean record and a fresh start! Oh, I
can look back now, easy enough, and say what I would do if I had a
chance――but it is useless. Here I am helpless――everlastingly disgraced.
And then there is my father, poor old man. He would gladly help me, but
he can’t. He has sent me all the money he had. He couldn’t afford to
send me more, and it will――yes, I know it will nearly kill him to know
the truth. Oh, I wish I could die!”
Howard, with a cry fell forward on his knees, buried his face in his
hands, and burst into a wild fit of weeping.
Howard’s emotion stirred me deeply.
“Oh, Ray!” I exclaimed. “This is terrible.”
Ray did not seem to hear me. He leaned forward and placed his hand on
Howard’s shoulder. His face was pale and quiet.
“Howard,” he said in a low tone, “I am in earnest when I ask you my
question. Would you profit by a chance if it were offered you? I mean,
would you profit by your hard experience and make a man of yourself if
you had the opportunity?”
Howard stopped instantly, and remained breathless for several seconds.
He scarce dared believe all that Ray’s words implied.
“Would I profit by it?” he cried, “Yes, yes, yes. If I only had a
chance to prove it! Oh, the vows that――――”
“I want no vows,” interrupted Ray, speaking quickly. “Your promise is
enough.”
Howard looked up, an expression of yearning in his face. Scarcely
hoping, yet longing to find encouragement in Ray’s words, he exclaimed:
“Why, Wendell――Ray――Ray――you mean to say――――”
“That you shall have a chance, Howard,” answered Ray firmly. “I will
trust you, and pay your debts, and you are to try to make a man of
yourself.”
Howard uttered a quick, inarticulate cry, and sprang to his feet.
“First calm yourself,” said Ray, “and sit down on the sofa there.”
Howard passively obeyed him.
“Now tell me how much you owe altogether.”
“Nearly eight hundred dollars,” answered Howard slowly.
“And one hundred must be paid at once?”
“Yes――to-night.”
“And the payment of these debts will set you on your feet again, and
give you a fresh start?”
“Yes――all but those town fellows. They know that I cheated.”
“The money will quiet them, I think,” answered Ray. “Now, listen to me,
Howard. Your case is not so desperate. Your debts need only to be paid
to secure your reputation, and then you can face the world honestly. I
will pay these――――first of all this hundred dollars. I have somewhat
over that amount in the National Bank, and I will give you a check
at once. This you can take this evening to those men and shut their
mouths. Now as to those other debts――――”
Here Ray started toward his desk, recollected himself, turned toward
Howard and said as gently as possible:
“Howard, kindly tell me where you put my bank book.”
Howard turned scarlet as he tremblingly took Ray’s bank book from his
pocket.
“I don’t know why I took it,” he said in a shame faced manner. “I could
never have used it.”
Ray received it without a word, opened it, and examined the columns of
figures.
“There are two hundred and ten dollars to my credit in the bank,” he
said, “and I can get more from my father when it is needed. Monday
morning you must pay back Professor Fuller first of all. The other
debts I will meet as they come due. Now I must give you that check.”
Ray drew a chair up to the desk, and opening a small drawer, took out a
check book, and settled himself to write.
Until now Howard had accepted the situation while hardly able to
comprehend it. It seemed to be too good to be true, and yet Ray’s cool
and decided manner carried assurance beyond doubt. Such unexpected
generosity from one whom he had regarded as an enemy was a revelation
to him, and it was beginning to work in him just the change that Ray
desired. He sat silent and thoughtful while Ray wrote.
I moved forward, and, bending over Ray’s shoulder, said:
“If I can help you out, Ray, I have some savings which I should be glad
to put in.”
Ray looked up a moment, and answered in a tone too low for Howard to
hear:
“Thanks, Harry, but I think it would be better to do it all up by
myself. You know what I mean. He would feel like a beggar if two or
three contributed. Better let me finish it.”
At this moment Howard looked up.
“Wendell,” he began, “why do you take this heavy risk? You know nothing
but bad of me――――”
“Because I expect to know nothing but good of you hereafter,” answered
Ray promptly. “I have your promise, haven’t I?”
“With all my heart,” responded Howard fervently. “But how can I ever
repay the loan? I can never rest until it is paid up to you, and you
know I am not wealthy.”
“Take your time. I can trust you,” answered Ray. “There is your check,
now, so you must hurry off and get rid of your tormentors. The others
we can attend to later. There is no one else knows anything of this?”
“No one,” answered Howard, “except perhaps Jarvis down stairs. He may
not understand about the disturbance of your desk. You know you spoke
to him about it.”
“Yes, so I did,” said Ray. “Never mind, I will see him and tell him
that it is all right. I will explain the matter satisfactorily. Now
you’d better hurry, for it is getting late.”
Howard started toward the door. After two or three steps he turned
hesitatingly.
“Wendell――Ray――would you mind shaking hands with me?” he asked.
Ray extended his hand immediately. Howard seized it convulsively with
both of his, while his whole frame quivered, and tears started to his
eyes afresh. It was but a moment, and then Howard turned to go away. He
had already reached the door when something seemed to occur to him, and
he wheeled about and came back.
“Ray,” he said, “there is something else I must tell you. You remember
the night we brought the cannons back from Berkeley. It was I that
borrowed your match box that night, and I dropped it by the cannon on
purpose.”
Howard paused.
“I knew it,” answered Ray quietly, “or at least, felt quite sure of it.
Well, what of it?”
“Well, I thought you ought to know it, that was all,” answered Howard.
Then without another word he passed out of the door.
Ray stood looking after him thoughtfully. I came up and touched him on
the arm.
“Ray,” said I, “you are a splendid fellow.”
“Why, no,” he answered. “I only did what I think is a fellow’s duty.
Howard will never forget to-night. He will keep his promise. Just wait
and see.”