“The Lord sends by whom he will send. And it so happened that one night, as Bele and I were walking together, I knew the hour had come.”
“You took not the matter in your own hands surely, father?”
“There was none there but me. I laid no finger on him; he fell into his own snare. I had said a thousand times–and the Lord had heard me say it–that if one word of mine would save Bele Trenby from death, I would not say that one word. Could I break my oath for a child of the Evil One? Had Bele been of the elect I would have borne that in mind; but Bele came of bad stock; pirates and smugglers were his forebears, and the women not to name with the God-fearing–light and vain women. So I hated Bele, and I had a right to hate him; and one night, as I walked from Quarf to Lerwick, Bele came to my side and said, ‘Good evening, Liot.’ And I said, ‘It is dark,’ and spoke no more. And by and by we came to a stream swollen with rain and snow-water, and Bele said, ‘Here is the crossing.’ And I answered him not, for I knew it was not the crossing. So as I delayed a little–for my shoe-string was loose–Bele said again, ‘Here is the crossing.’ And I told him neither yes nor no. And he said to me, ‘It seemeth, Liot, thou art in a devil’s temper, and I will stay no longer with thee.’ And with the ill words on his lips he strode into the stream, and then overhead into the moss he went, and so to his own place.”
“Father, I am feared for a thing like that. There would be sin in it.”
“I lifted no finger against him; my lips lied not. It was the working out of his own sin that slew him.”
“I would have warned him–yes, I would. Let me go for the minister; he will not be feared to say, ‘Liot, you did wrong,’ if so he thinks.”
“I have had my plea out with my Maker. If I did sin, I have paid the price of the sin. Your mother was given to me, and in two years the Lord took her away. I thought to fill my eyes with a sight of the whole world, and I was sent to this desolate place for a life-sentence, to bide its storm and gloom and gust and poverty, and in this bit cabin to dree a long, fierce wrestle with Death, knowing all the time he would get the mastery over me in the end.” Then, suddenly pausing, his gray face glowed with passionate rapture, and lifting up his right hand he cried out: “No, no, David; I am the conqueror! There are two ways of dying, my lad–victory and defeat. Thank God, I have the victory through Jesus Christ, my Lord and Saviour!”
“Who is the propitiation for all sin, father.”
“Sin!” cried the dying man, “sin! I have nothing to do with sin. ‘Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect?’ for, ‘Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin–he cannot sin, for he is born of God.’ I did indeed make a sore stumble; so also did David, and natheless he was a man after God’s own heart. What has man to do with my fault? He has entered into judgment with me, and I have gladly borne the hand of the smiter.”
“Gladly, father?”