"I believe they are guilty—who can doubt it? But this lawlessness—this mad cry for revenge—it is against all my beliefs, my religion. Oh, my friend, can't you stop it? At least take no part in it—for my sake."
His look was hard, yet regretful,
"For your sake I would give my life gladly," he said, "but there are times when one must act his destined part. That verdict holds me up to the public as a perjurer; but that is a small matter. Oh, I have had my scruples; I have questioned my conscience, and deep in my heart I see that there is only one way. I'd be a hypocrite if I denied it. I'm wrong, perhaps, but I can't be untrue to myself."
"We know but a part of the truth," she urged, desperately. "God alone knows it all. You saw three men—there are others whom you did not see."
"They were seen by other eyes quite as trustworthy as mine."
She wrung her hands miserably, crying:
"But wait! Guilty or innocent, they have appeared in judgment, and the law has acquitted them. You urge upon the people now a crime greater than theirs. Two wrongs do not make a right. Who are you to raise yourself above that power which is supreme?"
"There's a law higher than the courts."
"Yes, one; the law of God. If our means have failed, leave their punishment to Him."
He shook his head, no trace of yielding in his eyes.