And he kept his word. Just as it was getting dark a tap was heard at Bradly’s “Surgery” door, and James Barnes was admitted into a bright and cheery room—such a marvellous contrast, in its neatness, order, and cleanliness, to his own miserable dwelling. When the two men were seated, one on either side of the fire-place—which was as brilliant as Brunswick black and polishing could make it—Bradly began:—
“James Barnes, this night may be the turning-point for good and for happiness, for you and yours, both for this world and the next. I want you to sign the pledge and keep it. You’ve tried for a good long time how you can do with the drink—and a poor do it has been; now try how you can do without it. Never mind what old mates may say; never mind what such as Will Foster and his set may say; never mind what your wife may say,—she’ll come round and join you if you’re only firm,—just you sign, and then we’ll ask God to bless you, and to enable you to keep your pledge.”
“Thomas, I will,” said James Barnes, much moved; “all as you’ve said’s perfectly true—I know it. The drink’s been my curse and my ruin; it’s done me and mine nothing but harm; and I can see what doing without it has been to you and yours. Give me the pen; I’ll sign.”
The signature was made, and then, while both men knelt, Thomas Bradly poured out his heart in prayer to God for a blessing on his poor friend, and that he might truly give his heart and life to the Lord. “And now, James,” said Bradly, “I’ll find you a job to go on with, and I’ll speak to the vicar, and you and yours shan’t starve till we can set you on your feet again.”
James Barnes thanked his new friend most warmly, and was turning to the door, but still lingered. Then he came back to the fire and sat down again, and said, “Thomas, I’ve summat to tell you which I’ve been wanting to mention to you for more nor a week, and yet I ain’t had the courage to come and say it like a man.”
“Well, Jim, now’s the time.”
“Thomas,” said the other sorrowfully, “I’ve done you a wrong, but I didn’t mean to do it; it’s that drink as was at the bottom of it.”
“Well, Jim,” replied Bradly, smiling, “it can’t have been much of a wrong, I doubt, as I’ve never found it out.”
“I don’t know how that may be, Thomas, but you shall hear. You remember the morning when poor Joe was found cut to pieces on the line just below the foot-bridge?”
“Yes, Jim, I remember it well; it was the day before Christmas-day.”