“Why did you not tell me?”
“I was in doubt,” said the missionary humbly. “I was in doubt. But—it seemed to me that matter was in His hands.”
Black Pawl nodded. “Oh, aye.” Then he was still again, with his thoughts. After a time, he asked like a child seeking knowledge: “Will there be punishment, Father?”
The missionary shook his head. “I do not know. Have you not suffered?”
“I would die to wipe the thing away,” Black Pawl cried passionately.
“To die is not hard,” said the missionary. “It is often merely release from unhappiness and pain.”
“There is nothing I would not do to wipe the thing away,” amended the Captain steadily. The other lifted his hand to dismiss the thought.
“Eh, Cap’n Pawl,” he said quietly, “if there is to be punishment, it will come. If there is to be a cup of atonement, it will be offered to your lips.”
The two men sat thoughtfully silent for a space, upon that word; and it may have been that their thoughts took the same channel, for Black Pawl was thinking of his son when the missionary asked at last: “Will you tell Red Pawl of this?”
Black Pawl hesitated. “I do not know.” And he added, after a moment: “Father, I fear Red Pawl. And—I never feared him before. I am afraid for Ruth’s sake. Not for my own, by the eternal!”