"My son, ye 've come to lift a weight off my heart. God forgi'e me that, i' my shyness, I let 'ee go by wi'out a word for your trouble."
"All the country seems to know my affairs," Zeb answered with a scowl.
The hollibubber's grey eyes rested on him tenderly. He was desperately shy, as he had confessed: but compassion overcame his shyness.
"Surely," said he, "all we be children o' one Father: an' surely we may know each other's burdens; else, not knowin', how shall we bear 'em?"
"You'm too late, hollibubber."
Zeb stood still, looking out over the purple sea. The old man touched his arm gently.
"How so?"
"I've a-sold my soul to hell."
"I don't care. You'm alive an' standin' here, an' I can save 'ee."
"Can 'ee so?" Zeb asked ironically.