“I promise,” said Guy in a husky voice.
“Heaven help you,” said Mrs. Willis fervently; and as she said it she kissed him and glided out of the room.
“Great Cæsar!” exclaimed Guy as soon as she had disappeared.
He jumped to his feet, overturning his chair as he did so, ascended the stairs four steps at a time, entered his room and slammed the door behind him. He was not accustomed to such treatment as this, and he hardly knew what to make of it. It was some minutes before he had collected himself so that he could think calmly.
“I looked for nothing but a good scolding and an invitation to make myself scarce about this house,” said Guy to himself; “and if Mrs. Willis had treated me in that way she would have served me just right. But she has given me a chance for my life. If she will only stand by me I will come out all right yet, for I’ll keep that promise no matter what happens. She doesn’t know about my swindling operations, but Mr. Walker must know of them. I am going to rub this thing all out and begin over again; and, in order to do it as it ought to be done, I must tell him everything. If it brings me my walking papers I shall have nobody to thank but myself.”
Guy put on his hat and went down the stairs and out of the house, walking with a firm step and his countenance wearing a determined expression. He scarcely looked to the right or left while he was passing along the street, and when he arrived at the store he went straight to the private office, where Mr. Walker sat busy with his correspondence.
“May I have a few minutes’ private conversation with you, sir?” he asked.
“Certainly, Guy,” replied the merchant, looking up with some surprise. “Lock the door and sit down.”
Guy did as he was directed, and then, without any preliminary words by way of apology or excuse for his conduct, begun and told the story of his mistakes from beginning to end. He kept back nothing except the name of the confederate who had assisted him in fleecing Mr. Whitney, and that he revealed only when it was demanded. Mr. Walker was greatly astonished. When Guy finished his story he sat for some moments in silence.
“I wish the boy had a pleasant home to go to,” thought the merchant. “That’s the place he ought to be, and there’s where he would be safe. But I am sorry to say he hasn’t got it. If he goes back to Norwall his father’s unreasonable strictness and partiality, and his mother’s indifference will drive him straight to ruin. He ought to have kind words now, for he has had more than his share of harsh ones.”