No, no—you mistake the matter. I would not have you confess that you deserve death—I would only have you speak to them—God of the faithful!—I cannot—I cannot urge this woman to betray her faith.
I understand thee, George. But if I were to do so, what should I gain by it?
Gain by it, Rachel Dyer?
Why do thee drop my hand? why recoil at my touch now?
Gain by it! siezing both her hands with all his might, and speaking as if he began to fear—not to hope—no, but to fear that she might be over-persuaded—
Yea—what have I to gain by it?
Life. You escape death—a cruel ignominious death—a death, which it is not for a woman to look at, but with horror.
Well George—
By death, you lose the opportunity of doing much good, of bringing the wicked to justice, of aiding them that are now ready to die with terror, of shielding the oppressed—
Well—