"Yes,—but—the scamp orto've been punished," rejoined Colwell. "I don't b'lieve in lettin' such scamps off without their punishment."
By this time the company were enlisted in the discussion, and more than one remarked that he ought to have been punished; yet no one surmised that the culprit sat in their midst, and was tortured by their words. Troffater knew not where to turn his little earthen eyes, for fear of encountering accusers; and he fixed them on the moon, and whistled a snatch or two of his addicted music; then bit his lips, and blowed, and hitched around on his seat, and blushed like a jack-o'-lantern.
"Yes, the scamp orto've been punished, I say," repeated Colwell.
"Think he was not punished then?" asked Fabens. "I think he was a little! If I had stood in his shoes, I am sure I should rather have been basted, or anything else, than served as he was."
"But he got away from the law," said Colwell.
"Not the living law, let me tell you," answered Fabens. "Not away from God's law written on his heart, and threading the bone and marrow of his being. To get away from that law, he had first to escape the reach of God's hand, and run away from his own body and spirit. That was not so easy a feat, Mr. Colwell.
"For the sake of our good social law, it may have been the person's duty to drag the poor man to light, and give him open justice; but he probably judged in that case, that the social law was better served and guarded in its spirit, if not in its letter, than if the offender had been exposed and imprisoned, to be let loose again with vengeance against the law, and against mankind.
"I venture to assert that the treatment cured the error, and the borrower will not violate the law again; while he might have run riot in open crime, had he been openly dealt with. The majesty of the law then was vindicated, and the injury done the system was repaired.
"And all that while he was amenable to God's living law traced all over and around his heart; and supposing he runs abroad and treads the green earth, and tastes the free air, and sees the bright sky; he is a prisoner still if he lives, and has not risen in goodness beyond sight of his sin; his body is his prison, his veins bind him down and his nerves bar him in. He senses his punishment keenly; it cuts to the quick, and he grieves, and trembles and gasps, whenever his fault comes to mind. Let him run at large; that law of God will follow him, watching with eyes from which no night can hide him; scourging with whips from which no shield defends."
"Squire Fabens is a very forgiving man," said Mrs. Teezle. "He's very forgiving, and I think he's right."