But Harry was haughty still. He was more than that, however; he was frightened. If the darkness of the night had not shielded his face from observation, its pallor would have frightened her. He tried, however, to steady his voice as he said:
"Miss Benedict, what do you mean? I do not understand. Do you mean that I am foreordained to become a drunkard, and that I can not help myself?"
"Oh, Harry! I mean that the great enemy of your soul has discovered just how he can ruin you, body and soul, and he means to do it. You have toyed with him until you can not help yourself. You can not, Harry. There is no use to fancy that you can. He has ruined many a young man as self-reliant as you. He is too strong for you, and too mean! He has ways of dissembling that you would scorn. He is not honest with you. He has made you believe what was utterly false. He has you in his toils, and as surely as you are here to-night, just so surely will you fail in the battle with him. You do not know how to cope with Satan; you need not flatter yourself that you do. He has played with many a soul, coaxed it to feel just that sense of superiority over him which you feel, until it was too late, and then laughed at his victim for being a dupe."
During the first part of this sentence, Harry Matthews, though startled, was also angry. He had always prided himself on his self-control, upon being able to go just so far in a given direction and no farther unless he chose; and even in this matter, when he had accused himself of being a slave, he had not believed it; he had believed simply that he had discovered himself to be more fond of intoxicants than he had supposed, and that the effect to give them up involved more self-sacrifice than it was worth while to make; and while he was vexed that even this was so, he had honestly believed this to be the whole story. It was not until this moment that the sense of being in actual peril, and being insufficient for his own rescue, rushed over him. I do not know why it did at that time, unless the Holy Spirit saw his opportunity and willed that it should be so.
There was almost mortal anguish in the low voice that sounded at last in answer to Claire's cry of fear.
"God help me, then! What can I do?"
The question surprised Claire, startled her. She had prayed for it, but she was like many another Christian worker in that she had not seemed to expect the answer to her prayer. Verily, He has to be content with exceeding little faith! Claire had expected the blind young man would go on excusing himself, and assuring her of her mistake. None the less was she eager with her answer:
"If you only meant that cry! If you only would give up the unequal strife, and stand aside and cry out, 'O Lord, undertake for me'! what a world would be revealed to you. Harry Matthews, there is just One who fought a battle with Satan and came off victor, and there never will be another. The victory must come through Him, or it is at best a very partial, and at all times a doubtful one. In Him are safety and everlasting strength, and outside of Him is danger."
She did not say another word, nor did he, other than a half-audible "Good-night!" as he held open the Academy gate for her to pass. She went in feeling frightened over much that she had said. Ought she to have spoken so hopelessly to him? What if he turned in despair, and plunged into excesses such as he had not known before? Men had reformed, and signed the pledge and kept it, apparently without the aid of Christ; at least, they had not owned allegiance to him, though well she knew that his restraining grace was, after all, what kept any man from rushing headlong to ruin. God held back even those who would not own his detaining arm. But she had felt so hopeless in regard to Harry, so certain that nothing short of an acknowledged leaning on Christ would be sufficient for his needs. The more she had prayed for him, the more sure had she been that in Christ alone lay his refuge. She had not meant to say this to him. Yet the thoughts seemed to crowd out of themselves, when he gave them opportunity. Now she went to her room shivering and trembling over the possible results.
She had very little opportunity, however, for thought; and there was that awaiting her which was not calculated to quiet her mind.