“Sevenfold—sevenfold. Thou God of mighty justice! Thou Lord of holy revenge! What can a sinful man do more? Not an old man, O, Lord! not a little child; seven lives in their prime—seven full of health, and strength, and hopefulness—seven saved for one lost. Lord of mercy, wilt Thou accept them! what can I more?”
“Patrick,” said Christian Lillie, “if the whole world had lain perishing at your feet, what more than urgent need was it to save them all; the seven will not atone for the one. If ye have no other atonement to offer, then the blood is still crying upon God for vengeance.”
“Christian,” exclaimed the dying man, “what can I do?—what shall I do? They tell me I am near the hour of judgment; will you thrust away my last plea?—will ye deny me my last hope? Did He not accept the publican who restored fourfold? Behold my offering, O, Lord, and be merciful—be merciful! I have toiled through all this terrible life—labored, and groaned, and fainted for the uplifting of Thy countenance—and shall I go away in darkness, and wilt Thou show me no more light at all for ever? Lord! Lord!”
The thin, worn arms were lifted in passionate appeal—the long white fingers clasped—the wasted face convulsed with despairing earnestness. Christian Lillie knelt by her brother’s bedside.
“Mercy and light, Patrick—mercy and light! our Father in heaven does not give them for a hire. Take them out of a gracious hand that has paid a bitter price for the gifts—take them, Patrick. Take them from Him who has made the sole sacrifice that can stand in the sight of God. Blood for blood.”
“Blood for blood!” said Patrick Lillie, with a wild shudder. “Blood for blood! has it come to this end? Christian, I have been laboring to make amends—I have labored in vain: let me pay the price now at last—there may be peace then. Let me away—let me away—I will pay the price—a life for a life!”
He was struggling to rise—his emaciated features shining wildly with his desperate purpose. Christian’s arms were stretched over him, subduing the frenzy.
“Patrick,” she said, solemnly, “in a little while the Lord will recall the life He has sent so fearful a shadow on. A day or two—maybe only an hour or two—and in this ghastly noon of ours, which is more terrible than the darkest midnight, the sun of your life must go down. The Lord is taking the price with his own hand. Patrick, let me but know that you are grounded on the one rock—that ye can see the one sacrifice.”
The unhappy sufferer sank back exhausted.
“ ‘Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.’ Christian, it is a just sentence—take me away—I see it—I see it—it is what no mercy can wipe out—no grace forgive—it must be atoned for. Ye hear me, Christian! the price must be paid. If ye would have hope in my death, take me away.”