“Howard,” cried Ray, his voice trembling with feeling, “don’t speak so. It is terrible.”
“It is only the truth,” answered Howard, his tone resuming its former key of despondency. “When I came in here I was half dazed, and scarcely knew what I was doing. I had some vague idea of getting money or valuables some way, and averting the crash for a while. When I saw your door open I remembered that you had handsome rooms and many costly things, and before I could think twice I was in. Driven to extremes as I was, I did not reason the matter, but began searching for money or something that would bring money. Oh, don’t try to shame me by calling it bad names! It isn’t necessary. With all that I have done, I felt that I was a wretched, despicable criminal every minute that I went about plundering your things. As it is I’m glad—yes, I’m glad I’m caught. It is all over with me, and it serves me right.”
Howard’s words cut me keenly. Such utter wretchedness I had never witnessed. His voice was broken, his eyes full of tears.
Whatever may have been the struggle in Ray’s bosom, it was plainly over now. He rose, and stepped forward to where Howard was sitting. The latter did not look up.
“Howard,” Ray said firmly, “you have sunk low—very low, indeed. You have reached the bottom. Do you suppose you could ever build yourself up again?”
Howard looked up in wonder at the question.
“Build myself up? No. I’ll never have the chance. I’m down, and I have no such hope.”
“But when you had a chance,” continued Ray, “before it was too late, did you never think about yourself, and see where you were going?”
“Not until I was going too fast to stop,” answered Howard despondently. “Then I thought—oh, the many nights I spent thinking, thinking, thinking! Longing to have a clean record and a fresh start! Oh, I can look back now, easy enough, and say what I would do if I had a chance—but it is useless. Here I am helpless—everlastingly disgraced. And then there is my father, poor old man. He would gladly help me, but he can’t. He has sent me all the money he had. He couldn’t afford to send me more, and it will—yes, I know it will nearly kill him to know the truth. Oh, I wish I could die!”
Howard, with a cry fell forward on his knees, buried his face in his hands, and burst into a wild fit of weeping.