"I don't believe in that way of doing business," he said, looking wise, and smiling down on her in a superior way. "As a rule, I promise nothing with my eyes shut; but I am sure to be able to trust you, and I will try to do anything else that you ask of me, if only to prove how sincere I am in my desire to please."
"It is a very good rule, as a rule," she said, quickly; "I would not violate it often; but this is easy enough to do; I want your signature to that."
She turned the leaves rapidly, and pointed to a few lines in the back part of the little book. Two signatures were appended; but the astounding words that arrested the young man's attention were these:
"I promise that within twenty-four hours after I have taken a taste of anything that will intoxicate, I will report the same, either in person or by letter, to my friend, Miss Benedict."
The hot blood spread all over the face of the gay boy before her, as he read and re-read this singular pledge.
"I am fairly caught," he said at last, in a constrained voice, "and in a way that I least expected. May I ask you what possible good it can do you to burden yourself with such senseless confidences as these?"
"You are right," she said, "they are confidences. I should not have shown you the book if I were not sure that the names there are utterly unknown to you, and will be likely always to remain so. I had a good motive, and the effort resulted in good. So much you must believe on trust. But I did not mean to catch you—at least, not in the way you mean—and to prove it, I will release you from your promise. I judged from what you told me that you would not consider it a hard one."
She was speaking with cold dignity now. She was willing that he should not sign this pledge if he wished to be released. If only his unwillingness to sign would lead him to think on what dangerous ground he stood, part of her object would have been attained.
But no, his pride was roused now, and came to the rescue. He refused to be released. Since she chose to burden herself in this way, he was quite willing, and should certainly add his name. This he did with a flourish, trying to be gay again, and went away assuring her that he was sorry for her, for he always kept a pledge.
After he was gone, she tormented herself as to whether she had done wisely. She was more than doubtful. Those two other names had been written by friendless and sorely-tempted boys, who distrusted themselves and their resolutions to such an extent that she had devised this little plan for helping them up from the depths of despair. They were gone now, both of them, where stronger arms than hers upheld them, where they were forever safe from falling; and Harry Matthews' knowledge of their names could harm no one. But Harry was of a different world. Had she been foolish in thus almost stealing his promise? He had not taken it as she had thought he would. She had believed him to be gayly indifferent to his habits in this direction; she had believed that he was unaware how frequently he accepted business invitations of this character.