“Give me that revolver!” pleaded the shaking youth, reaching out for it.
“Wait a minute,” said Merry. “I want to talk to you.”
Then, half-leading, half-supporting the miserable boy, he crossed the room to a cushioned seat by the fireplace. The two men looked on, uncertain as to what course they should pursue.
“You have made a terrible blunder,” said Frank, as he sat beside the white-faced lad, a hand on his shoulder; “but you cannot undo it by taking your own life.”
“At least, I can escape the consequences, the shame, the disgrace!”
“And prove yourself a coward. You spoke of your mother. Will she be left in poverty by this act of yours?”
“No; she has the income of property that will take care of her. But the shame will kill her!”
“Do you think it will be any less if you were to take your own life? Do you think the blow would be less severe to her?”
“No, no; but——”
“Then it is only because you fear to face the consequences of your act that you wish to die?”