So Mr. Bright went with “Dodd” to his lodgings, helped him pack, and got him to the depot.  They escaped the police.  This was not a hard thing to do.  It seldom is, if one has really been doing wrong.

“Here is ten dollars,” said Mr. Bright to the ticket agent.  “I want you to give me a ticket to a point the farthest away from the city possible for that money.”

“What line?” inquired the somewhat surprised official.

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know,” returned Mr. Bright.  “I want a ticket such as I have described, and I want you to tell me which train to take to reach the destination, though I don’t want to know what the destination is.”

The agent looked puzzled for a minute, but as the bill was a good one, and other passengers were waiting, he picked out a ticket, stamped it, and thrust it out under the glass, with the remark: 

“Take the train that leaves from the other side of the middle platform.”

Mr. Bright folded the ticket without looking at it, and taking “Dodd’s” arm, started for the train, which was already waiting.  As they went along, “Dodd” said: 

“Let me see where I am going to, please!”

“Not now,” returned his guide, and they boarded the train.

The conductor came in presently, and to him Mr. Bright spoke in a subdued tone.

“Here is a ticket for this young man,” he said.  “I want you to take it, and see to it that he reaches the destination that this piece of paper calls for.  Don’t ask me what that is.  Don’t let me know.  But take the ticket, and do as I ask.”

The official looked wise for a minute, then took the ticket and passed on.

“Dodd” and Mr. Bright sat in the same seat in the car till the train was ready to go.  Not much was said; for the time of words was not then.  But just as the bell rang for leaving, the elder man took the hand of the younger, and clasped it almost passionately.  The eyes of the two met.  “Dodd” remembered the day when they walked to school together, hand in hand.

“My boy,” whispered Mr. Bright, “if ever the time comes when you can stand on your own feet, let me hear from you and know of your success; but if you continue in the old way, let the world be as a grave to you, so far as I am concerned; and never let me hear from you again.  But,” he added, as he turned away, “I faintly trust the larger hope.”  And without another word he left the car.  He went directly home.  It was many a year before he referred again to that day.

There was a hissing of pent-up air as the engineer tried the brakes before moving out his train, then a slow motion of starting, then away and away.

“Dodd” Weaver sank back in his seat, and pulled his cap over his eyes.  He did not cast one lingering look behind.  Indeed, what had he to care for, in all that great city?

“I faintly trust the larger hope,” repeated “Dodd” to himself, as the train rushed along.  He remembered the day when they had read the lines in the reading class of Mr. Bright’s school.