“There is such a thing as reason,” said M‘Crae; “I beseech you to listen to it. A dead shepherd is of very little use to his flock.”
James glowed. It was extraordinary to see the pale creature expand.
“Ah,” he cried, “Mr. M‘Crae, that is where you make the greatest of mistakes. It was a dead Shepherd who redeemed the world. If you are a Christian you cannot suggest that that sacrifice was of no use.”
“It is not a matter for argument,” said M‘Crae. “I recognise your point of view. Against my will I respect it. I think you are an honest man and that’s the best title I can give you.” They shook hands. It is an amazing commentary on the naturalness of theatrical conventions that common men, in moments of the greatest stress, tend to the most obvious gestures. M‘Crae, gripping the hand of James, noticed that it was as cold as if the man were already dead.
They spoke no more, for Eva entered the room, carrying the linen satchel full of food and a couple of water-bottles. She saw the two men standing in silence. “You are ready?” she said. “You’ve settled everything?”
“Yes, we’ve settled it,” said M‘Crae. “But your brother will not come. He says that his duty lies here.”
“Oh, James, but you can’t!” she cried. “You poor dear, of course you can’t!”
James shook his head. “We can’t argue,” he said. “Mr. M‘Crae says there’s no time.”
“Then we will all stay together,” she said.
She laid her hands on James’ shoulders and looked up at him. He smiled.