"And yet, as we grow older," John went on, "we sometimes see, or fancy (it may be altogether an error on our part, but we fancy) we see things more clearly than at an earlier period of our lives. And especially the blunders we ourselves have at some former time committed, make us think that we are wiser than others—wiser perhaps than we really are, and more competent to set another right when we think him to be in danger."
They went on slowly pacing the path from one end to the other before another word was spoken. Then John resumed his talk.
"The person of whom I was speaking a few moments ago, having been guilty of bad actions as well as of criminal thoughts and desires, was too ready to attribute bad motives to another, who was utterly astounded when he heard of the charge brought against him. And perhaps, dear Tom, you will be astounded too when you hear further what I wish to say. When I was a young fellow like you (your father knows all about it), I was guilty of folly; I thank God not of deliberate sin, nor perhaps of any sin at all, only as far as there is a degree of sin in most folly. Well, I was foolish. Without intending it, I did that which was the means of completely changing the entire course of many lives and histories. In the merciful arrangements of Divine Providence, those changes were, as I hope, overruled for good. But I would never forget that, whether for good or evil, the folly was the same; nor that, overruled as they may have been, they produced at the time, and for a long time afterwards, much unhappiness to all within their influence. Now, my dear lad, without intending it, you—"
"I know what you are going to say—at least, I think I do, sir," said Tom, in a sorrowful tone, "and it is all quite true. Please don't go on if it is about—about Helen—I mean, Miss Wilson."
John Tincroft smiled, but rather sadly.
"Poor Tom!" he sighed rather than uttered, and then there was silence during the next slow-paced journey down the path.
It was for young Tom now to begin again, and he was not sorry, perhaps, that the shades of evening were gathering around, so that his countenance was at least obscured.
"I have been very foolish this last week or two, but I haven't meant any harm," Tom humbly confessed. "I ought to have remembered that I am not free, and never have been," said the young fellow, gulping down with a strong effort, as it seemed, something that half choked him. "Now, do you think it, quite fair, Mr. Tincroft, to have everything—everything cut and dried for a young fellow when he first sets his foot, in the world?"
"That's a wide question, Tom."
"Well, you know what I mean. There was my going into business instead of going to Oxford, you know."