And there were other
times. The recollection was not pleasant. It brought shame to him that
his spirit should be so weak and his flesh so strong. But the love of
life! the love of life! He could not strip it from him. Because of it
had his dim ancestors perpetuated their line; because of it was he
destined to perpetuate his. His courage, if courage it might be called,
was bred of fanaticism. The courage of Stockard and Bill was the
adherence to deep-rooted ideals. Not that the love of life was less, but
the love of race tradition more; not that they were unafraid to die, but
that they were brave enough not to live at the price of shame.
The missionary rose, for the moment swayed by the mood of sacrifice. He
half crawled over the barricade to proceed to the other camp, but sank
back, a trembling mass, wailing: "As the spirit moves! As the spirit
moves! Who am I that I should set aside the judgments of God? Before
the foundations of the world were all things written in the book of life.
Worm that I am, shall I erase the page or any portion thereof? As God
wills, so shall the spirit move!"
Bill reached over, plucked him to his feet, and shook him, fiercely,
silently.
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