"Don't turn me out!" he repeated. "Help me against myself. I am telling you the truth. As God is my witness, I am telling you the truth!""Tell me the _whole_ truth," I said; "and rely on my consoling and helping you--rely on my being your friend."In the fervor of the moment, I took his hand. It lay cold and still in mine; it mutely warned me that I had a sullen and a secret nature to deal with.
"There must be no concealment between us," I resumed. "You have entered my house, by your own confession, under false pretenses.
It is your duty to me, and your duty to yourself, to speak out."The man's inveterate reserve--cast off for the moment only--renewed its hold on him. He considered, carefully considered, his next words before he permitted them to pass his lips.
"A person is in the way of my prospects in life," he began slowly, with his eyes cast down on his book. "A person provokes me horribly. I feel dreadful temptations (like the man you spoke of in your sermon) when I am in the person's company. Teach me to resist temptation. I am afraid of myself, if I see the person again. You are the only man who can help me. Do it while you can."He stopped, and passed his handkerchief over his forehead.
