Could I refuse? This question was discussed in all its bearings,

in a few lightning-like progresses of thought. I felt all its

difficulties--anticipated the annoyances to which it would subject

me, and the degree of self-forbearance which it would necessarily

require; yet, when I looked on the noble old gentleman who sat

beside me--his gray hairs, his pleading looks, the recollection of

the deep debt of gratitude which I owed him--I put my hand in his;

I could resist no longer.

"I will try!" was the brief answer which I made him.

"God bless, God speed you!" he exclaimed, squeezing my hand with a

pressure that said everything, and we separated; he for his family,

and I for that new task which I had undertaken. How different from

my previous purpose! I was now to seek to save the person whom I

had set forth that morning with the purpose (if I had any purpose)

to destroy. What a volume made up of contradictions and inconsistencies,

strangely bound together, is the moral world of man!




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