"What was that object?" asked Horace.
Raphael seemed unable to give an audible reply. He turned over silently the leaves of his Testament, and laid his finger upon this verse: "'The love of Christ constraineth us; because we thus judge that if One died for all, then were all dead; and that He died for all that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him which died for them!'"
Horace remained for a space with his eyes riveted upon the passage, marveling how he had never before seen how it contains not only the ground of a Christian's hope, but of a Christian's willing obedience. What is true religion but "a personal love for a personal Savior?"
"'The love of Christ constraineth!'" That is the very watchword of the soldier of the cross upon the battle-field of life. Not to live to self, but unto God; not to do our own will, but God's will; to make His love our inspiring motive, His glory our end and aim;—this is the object, the only object, worthy of an immortal soul.
After a lengthened pause, Horace resumed the conversation. "I am surprised," said he, "that one whose whole character had been changed like yours, should ever have come back to a den of wickedness like this."
"When Marino departed," replied Raphael, "my six months of durance had almost come to a close. Often and anxiously I revolved in my mind what course it would be right to pursue after I should have regained my freedom. Sometimes I almost decided upon working my way to England; at other times I proposed returning to Naples, seeking out some old acquaintances of my grandfather, and trying through their assistance to make my entrance into his profession.
"Amidst my various projects one truth was ever recurring to my mind. A soldier chooses not his own post; it was my one simple duty to find out where my Leader would have me to be, and what He would have me to do. More and more strongly the conviction came that nowhere was light more needed, and into no place was it less likely to penetrate, than into this robbers' cave. Here seemed to be my allotted post, and hither I accordingly came."
"You were throwing yourself into the midst of great temptations," observed Horace.
"I felt that—I feel it," replied Raphael; "and I often have I feared presumption, and closely have searched my own motives for running so great e risk. But," he continued, as if conscious that there was a need of explaining his position in order to justify his conduct, "I knew that there were circumstances in my favor, which made it possible for me to plant my foot where by another man no standing ground could have been found. I was known amongst the banditti, liked, favored; perhaps I counted too much upon that favor, as I certainly did upon the circumstance of having saved the life of their captain."
"But the danger!" exclaimed Horace Cleveland.