"'He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me.'"
"And I," said the boy, lifting up his face with a patriotic, even a religious, fervor in it, "I love my country, I love the cause of right and freedom, better than I love my brother!"
"With that true of us, with that love in our hearts," said Atwater, "we can dare to fight, and whatever the result, I believe it will be well with us. See what the book says."
And Frank read on.
"'He that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that looseth his life for my sake shall find it.'"
"That is enough," said Atwater. "I can bind that sentence like an armor around my heart."
"What does it mean?"
"It means, I think, that though wickedness triumphs, it triumphs to its own confusion, for it has no immortal life. But even the death of a saint is victory."
After that the soldier seemed inclined to relapse into revery. Frank thought he did not wish to talk any more; so he gave him back the book. Abram put it in his pocket, and took the boy's hand.
"Good night, Frank," he smilingly said. "We shall see each other in the morning."