He looked towards the mantelpiece, and saw the picture of his father, whom he had idealised as the noblest man who ever lived. He remembered his teaching, remembered that to him the true man was he who sacrificed everything to principle, to conscience. He looked around among the many books, and noted those his father loved. He took from the table a New Testament, and instinctively turned to the Sermon on the Mount.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of
God."
"Ye have heard it hath been said, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I say unto you, that ye resist not evil, but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also."
And so on and on. How could a man believing in this, grasp the sword to take away the lives of others. The Germans were Christians just as we were; Germany was the home of the Reformation, the home of religious liberty. Was it not Luther who, standing before the greatest tribunal the world had ever known, and having to choose between conscience and death, cried out:
"It is neither safe nor wise for any man to do aught against his own conscience. Here stand I; I can do no other, God help me!"?
No, no, he simply could not. Though he were boycotted, scorned, held up to derision, he could not change. He must be true to his conscience.
But Nancy!
Yes, he must lose Nancy, and the very thought of it made him groan in agony; but he must sacrifice his love rather than his Lord.
He heard his mother come in, and, although he dreaded her coming, he steeled his heart to tell her the truth.
She, too, was full of war news; it had been the common talk at the houses where she had called.