Ray reached Powell Street, and with a feeling of triumph ran up the stairway in No. 27, to Room 3. He was a little late, and could detect a slight appearance of anxiety on the faces of the two men awaiting him, probably on account of his delay in coming.
"Well, sir, what is your decision?" was his sharp greeting from Mr. Gregory, while Mr. Wilson gazed intently into his face, as though he would read his inmost thought.
Ray did not keep them waiting long for his answer. Walking down the room to the chair he had occupied when in the room before, he laid one hand upon its back, and looked his tempters squarely in their faces. There was no show of fear in his eyes, and no tremor in his clear, ringing tones, as he replied:
"Gentlemen, I have cause to thank you for your unprecedented offer of this morning. I have reason to thank you, because it has shown me clearly and emphatically the position I was unconsciously occupying—the strange neglect of duty I had for weeks been guilty of. But let me assure you I have not quite reached the point that I am ready to sell my manhood for even one thousand dollars, great as that sum seems to me. As proof of this, let me tell you that I went directly from this room to a telegraph office, and this return telegram in my hand states that Blake is already under arrest, and that the other criminals soon would be. I can only add, at the trial I shall tell 'the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.' Good-day, gentlemen." And before either of the men could make a movement to stop him, had that been their desire, he had turned and left the room.
The next train for Afton did not leave the city until four o'clock, so Ray wandered on down the streets, with little thought as to just where he was going. A peace that had long been absent from his heart had returned; his conscience, which had so long been at variance with his action, had now come into perfect accord. He was happier than he had at any time been since the night of the fire. Humbled by his experience, yet so sweetly conscious was he of the Master's nearness and the Master's forgiveness, that he could not but repeat the words of one of God's children, written long before; words that thousands of humbled and penitent hearts have found so exactly suited, each to his own individual case: "Have mercy upon me, O Lord, according to thy loving kindness;... Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and uphold me with thy free spirit. Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and sinners shall be converted unto thee."
So busy was Ray with his own thoughts, that he did not notice that he had wandered beyond the limits of the city proper, and was now in one of its growing suburbs. He was aroused from his pre-occupied condition by suddenly finding himself face to face with a number of large and magnificent buildings, surrounded by extensive lawns, upon which were long rows of tall and stately elms.
An old white-haired gentleman stood by the fence that shut off the lawn from the street, and Ray, stopping, asked him what buildings they were. The old man turned slowly around and looked curiously at the lad.
"They are the university buildings," he slowly replied; "and, my lad, sixty years ago, when I was scarcely older than you, I entered them as a student. There have been great changes since then. The college has prospered. New buildings have been erected and the campus has been beautified—but, ah! those were delightful days! I hope, my lad, you love to study, and may one day graduate from this honored institution of learning."
"I cannot tell you, sir," replied Ray, "how I hope for that very thing myself; but God alone knows whether I shall be able to do it."