Yet who are the murderers of the world? Are they to be found among those only who do actual murder, or are murderers a class of people who are capable of murder? Is not every man who is not filled with Divine love capable of murder, and are not many free from the stain of murderous deeds merely because they have never been provoked, tempted? Who shall judge as to who are real murderers? None but God alone!
Night drew on at length, and full of the thought which became dearer each hour, I found again my way to the sexton's house. This time he was at home. He stared at me in astonishment when I told him what I wanted.
"Want to go in th' oul church after dark!" he said. "You must be mazed."
"Why?"
"Why! You cudden git more'n two people in the parish to do it. Me and the passen be the only two that be'ant afraid."
"But I don't want you to go with me," I said. "I simply want you to lend me the keys, and I'll bring them back to you again."
"And you we'ant want me to go in the churchyard nuther?"
"No."
"I must'n do it," he said. "The passen 'ud give me the sack straight off ef 'ee was to knaw it."
"No one need know," I said.