Living too Fast by Oliver Optic

HOW could I look Tom Flynn in the face, after what I had done, or permitted to be done? He had been my competitor in the race for the situation in the bank, and probably would have obtained it if my uncle had not whispered the old slander in the ears of Mr. Bristlebach, the president. It is true this plan had originated with Captain Halliard, but I consented to it, to say the very least. I could have prevented him from carrying it into operation. I could have protested in the strongest of terms that there was no truth in the story, and that I would not take the place if it were procured for me by such a base sacrifice of honor and integrity.

I did not do so. If I protested at all, it was so faintly that my worldly-minded uncle only regarded it as a piece of "buncombe. " It is not for me to blame him, for I regard myself as equally guilty of the infamous deed-more guilty, for Tom was my friend. It is a satisfaction for me now to know that I blushed when my old schoolfellow entered the counting-room; and to remember that my conscience stung me like a hot iron when he informed me that the situation had been given to me. It was not the glorious triumph which I had anticipated, and I could hardly felicitate myself that I was to step immediately into the enjoyment of a salary of twelve hundred a year. I could not even enjoy the triumph of being, for once, actually ahead of my fortunate friend.