"Now I understand you, my own love," answered Lord H----. "With regard to the baronetcy, he shall do as he will; but I must press him earnestly to accept the office tendered to him. To decline it might show some resentment. By accepting it, he incurs no peril, and he serves his country; for, from his knowledge of the people here, of the physical features of the land and its resources, and of the habits and feelings of all classes, I believe no man could be found, with one or two exceptions, so well fitted for the task as himself. Ah, my good friend, Captain Brooks, how do you do? I have much wished to see you lately, and to hear of your plans."
"I am as well as may be, my lord," replied Woodchuck, wringing in his heavy grasp the hand which Lord H---- extended to him. "As for my plans, they are the same as ever--you did not doubt me, I am sure."
"I did not," returned Lord H----, gravely; and, looking down, he fell into a fit of thought. At length, looking up, he added, "And yet, my good friend, I am glad you have had time for reflection; for since we last met I have somewhat reproached myself for, at least, tacit encouragement of an act in the approval of which so many personal motives mingle that one may well doubt oneself. Forgive me, Edith--forgive me, Mr. Prevost,--if I ask our friend here if he has well considered and weighed in his mind, calmly and reasonably, without bias--nay, without enthusiasm--whether there be any moral obligation on him to perform an act which I suppose he has told you he contemplates."
"There is no forgiveness needed, my lord," replied Mr. Prevost. "I would have put the same question to him, if he would have let me. Nay, more; I would have told him--whatever I might suffer by the result--that, in my judgment, there was no moral obligation. Because he did a justifiable act, these Indians commit one that is unjustifiable upon an innocent man. That can be no reason why he should sacrifice his life to save the other. God forbid that, even for the love of my own child, I should deal in such a matter unjustly. I am no Roman, father--I pretend not to be such. If my own death will satisfy them, let them take the old tree withered at the root, and spare the sapling full of strength and promise. But let me not doom--let me not advise--a noble and honest man to sacrifice himself from a too generous impulse."
"I don't know much of moral obligations," replied Woodchuck, gravely; "but I guess I have thought over the thing as much as e'er a one of you. I have made up my mind just upon one principle, and there let it rest, in God's name. I say to myself: 'Woodchuck, it's not right, is it, that any one should suffer for what you ha' done?' 'No, it's not.' 'Well, is there any use talking of whether they've a right to make him suffer for your act or not? They'll do it.' 'No; there's no use o' talking; because they'll do it. It's only shuffling off the consequences of what you did upon another man's shoulders. You never did that, Woodchuck; don't do it now. Man might say, "It's all fair;" God might pardon it; but your own heart would never forgive it.'"
Edith sprang forward, and took both his hands, with the tears rolling over her cheeks.
"God will prevent it," she said, earnestly. "I have faith in Him. He will deliver us in our utmost need. He provided the Patriarch with an offering, and spared his son. He will find us a means of escape if we but trust in Him."
"Miss Edith," replied Woodchuck solemnly, "He may, or He may not, according to His good pleasure; but of this I am certain, that, though Christ died for our transgressions, we have no right to see any one else suffer for our doings. I have read my Bible a great deal up there on the hill-side lately--more than I ever did before, since I was a little boy--and I'm quite certain of what I'm about. It has been a comfort and a strength to me. It's all so clear--so very clear. Other books one may not understand--one can't misunderstand that--unless one tries very hard. And now, pray let us have an end o't here. My mind is quite made up. There is no use in saying a word more."
All the rest were silent, and Edith left the room, with: the large tears falling down her face.