“Then I've promised him, I'll go in and take up your work. As soon as this trouble is over.”
“That knocks out your year at home, Henry.”
“Yes, but what matters it? Very likely I shall find more happiness in working, after all. That isn't what disturbs me.... Grigg, if you leave the church it will be, I think, the severest blow of my life. I—I'm going to tell you this—for years I've leaned on you. You didn't know, but I've made a better job of my life for knowing that you too were hard at it, just beyond the mountains. We haven't seen much of each other, of late years, but I've felt you there.”
Doane's stern face softened as he looked at his old friend.
“And I've felt you, Henry,” he replied gently.
“Your blunders are those of strength, not of weakness, Grigg. Perhaps your greatest mistake has been in leaning a little too strongly on yourself. What I want you to consider now is giving self up, in every way.”
But Duane shook his great head.
“No, Henry—no! I've given to the uttermost for years. And it has wrecked my life—”
“No, Grigg! Don't say that!”
“Well—put it as you will. The trouble has been that I was doing wrong all the time—for years—as I told you back in Tiaman, I was doing the wrong thing. It led, all of it, to sin. For that sin, of course, I've suffered, and must suffer more. The best reason I could think of for going back would be to keep this added burden off your shoulders. But that would be wrong too. It's getting a little clearer to me. I know now that I've got to face my doubts and my sins, take them honestly for whatever they may be. Each life must function in its own way. In the eagerness of youth I chose wrong. I must now take the consequences. Good-by, now! There's barely time to slip through the lines before dawn.”