“Perhaps so,” said Brettison. “I often think I must be a little wanting, now. But, Malcolm, my boy, think of yourself. If Myra knows that this man is still living, she will never see you again.”
“Never,” said Stratton firmly; “but she will get to know the reason of my conduct on that day, and I shall be forgiven for playing the part I did. She will know all this and forgive me. That is my reward. I tell you, I accept my position. James Barron must be given up.”
“You are determined upon that?”
“Yes. It was my decision that morning before the struggle. It was the only course for an honourable man. What was right then must be doubly right now. If Myra were here, she would bid me act as I propose, even if it broke her heart.”
“Even if it broke her heart,” said Brettison thoughtfully. “I’m afraid I should sin deeply sooner than let her break her heart.”
“Brettison!” cried Stratton; “is my old friend to become my tempter now at another crisis in my life? But you do not mean it. You are trying me. Come, I have been tried enough. You seem to have given me a new lease of life. Let us have no more trifling with duty; we have both suffered enough. Tell me, where is this man?”
Brettison was silent for a few moments, and then looked up quietly.
“I will tell you soon. First of all, you are judging too hastily.”
“No; I am saying what is right.”
“Under certain circumstances; but you do not know all yet.”