We can understand his position, and sympathize with him. We can see how he could easily persuade himself that this might be his duty. But an earnest desire to get at the real truth, leads us to ask—was it his duty, after all? I am very anxious that we should all have clear ideas of what one's real duty is in a case like this; for there is so much condoning of crime in this our day, and so much covering up of sin, even by those who call themselves Christians, that it is time God's real children should pause, and ask themselves, prayerfully and earnestly, whether they have a right to shield any crime, or excuse any sin, simply because the guilty party happens to be one whom they have loved, and one whom they cannot bear to have branded guilty. Sooner or later all condoning of evil, and all concealment of crime will return in accumulated measure upon our own heads. The principle is wrong; the results must be evil. God himself never condones sin. He forgives on true repentance; he never condones. Let us ever remember it is never right to condone sin. By so doing we shall destroy our religious peace, and may surround ourselves with a spiritual darkness in which there is no light.
Ray saw this later on, and understood why it was that he found so little enjoyment in his religious life; why the prayer room brought him so little comfort, and even the reading of God's word had not its usual delight. For the present, however, he hid his secret in his bosom, and tried to persuade himself that he was doing his whole duty. The old question, however, was ever reasserting itself. When it seemed most settled, it had a strange way of suddenly reappearing in some new and startling form.
For example, a week or two after the fire a circumstance happened that lulled Ray's conscience into a perfect repose for a while. Hyde, the leader of the strikers, was arrested, charged with the crime of firing the mills. Ever since they were burned, an expert detective had been quietly working up the case, and had found evidence enough it was said, to warrant the arrest of Hyde. Ray now thought his whole trouble was over.
His complacency was destined to be rudely shaken, however. Hyde waived an examination in the lower court, and was remanded to jail to await the action of the grand jury in November. Ray met Mr. Bacon about this time, and ventured to ask him what he thought of Hyde's arrest, and the prospects of finding the other criminals.
"There is little hope of accomplishing anything by his arrest," Mr. Bacon had replied. "It is even doubtful whether with our present evidence we can convict him. He is a hardened fellow, and will never reveal his companions in crime, even if he is himself convicted. I have been informed that he has secured one of the best criminal lawyers in the country. And I should not be surprised if he were acquitted, unless we discover new facts." And Mr. Bacon, with a deep sigh, walked on.
Ray looked after him a few minutes, almost tempted to follow, and disclose what he knew. But he again resisted the impulse, and with a sore heart went sadly down the street.
Stopping at the post office for Mr. Woodhull's mail, Ray was surprised that a letter for himself was handed out with the rest. He seldom got a letter, and this bore the postmark of a large city, a hundred miles away. Who there could have written to him? There was nothing on the envelope to give him the desired information, and so he hastily tore it open. There was an ordinary sheet of note paper inside without printed heading of any kind. On the sheet, however, these few lines were scrawled:
W——, Oct. 30, 18—.
Mr. Ray Branford,
Dear Sir: Will you come to my office in this city, on Thursday, Nov. 4th, at 10 o'clock? There is an important matter upon which I wish to consult you.