A new name

by Grace Livingston Hill

“What a pity! See, Murray, all these people, and how you might influence them—if you only hadn’t to leave us!”

“I know,” said Murray, and his eyes drooped sadly, then lifting his gaze anxiously:

“Do you suppose that Heaven will have any way to make up for all the opportunities I’ve wasted here?”

Mrs. Summers and Murray sat by the fire a long time that night and talked, after Mr. Harper had left.

Mr. Harper had come to say to Murray that he had entire confidence in him, and felt that all would still be well in every way for his position in the bank, but he advised him to say no more about his past. One confession was enough. He needn’t be telling it all the time. It would soon be forgotten, and everything would be as before.

Murray waited until he was all through, and then he looked him straight in the eye:

“That’s all very kind of you, Mr. Harper. I know you’re saying that for my sake. But I don’t want it to be as it was before. It couldn’t be. I’ve found out I was all wrong, and I’ll have to be telling what God has done for me the rest of the time I have to live. As for the bank, I’ve got to leave you. You’re very kind to ask me to stay after the way I’ve treated you and deceived you. I’m sorry to have to go away right off without waiting till you get a temporary person in my place, but you see it’s just this way. I’m wanted by the State to answer a criminal charge, and there are some things that I must do to make right a cowardly thing I did, before I’m put where there is no chance for me to make anything right. Now that there are so many people who know who I am there is no surety that I may not be arrested any minute, or else I would wait till you can fill my place. But I was with Allan Murray this afternoon, and he thinks he will soon be able to come to you, if you still want him. He is a better man than I am. And everything will be all right for you when he comes.”

But Mr. Harper was not to be appeased. He had taken a liking to this young man. He fitted perfectly in with his schemes for the bank. The other might be all right, but he wanted this one. He was under no obligation to Allan Murray, since he did not come at the time arranged, and besides there was room in the bank for another person if it came to that, of course. It was with great reluctance that he finally withdrew and left Mrs. Summers and Murray to have their last talk together.

It was then that Murray told her about Bessie and Mrs. Chapparelle. Told of his own home and his lonely childhood, though that was merely seen between the lines, not put into words. Told of the brightness of the little cosey home around the corner, and of the little girl who had been so sweet and gay a friend, then of the years between, and finally of his finding her that afternoon and taking her to ride. He did not tell of their visit to Grevet’s. He did not realize himself what part that incident had played in the tragedy of the fateful afternoon. But he told of his long wait in the hospital, and finally of the approach of the nurse with the sad news, and his flight.

As he put it all into words his own perfidy and cowardice arose before him in its true light, and his shame and sorrow came upon him so powerfully that once he put his head down on the little tea table and groaned aloud. Then the little warm rose-leaf hand of the woman was laid upon his head tenderly, and he felt the comfort of her loving spirit.