“We have taken an oath of blood,” said they, “and we will keep it.”
“But is this just to your sister?” said the priest; “do you believe in the justice of an Almighty Providence? Is there no probability that, if this man lives, circumstances may come to light by which her fair and spotless character may be vindicated to the world? On the contrary, should you now take his life, you prevent any such possibility from ever happening; and your own rashness and ungodly crime, will be the means of sending her name down to posterity, foul and spotted with the imputation of woman's worst guilt. Is that love for your sister?”
Father Roche now began to see that he must argue with their passions—or with that strong affection for their sister, upon which these fearful passions were founded—rather than with their reason or their prejudices, which, in point of fact were now immovably set in the dark determination of crime.
“Do you forget,” he added, “that there are laws in the country to pursue and overtake the murderer? Do you forget that you will die an ignominious death, and that, instead of acting an honorable part in life, as becomes your ancient and noble name, you will bequeath nothing to your parents but an inheritance of shame and infamy?”
“We have thought of all this before,” said John.
“No, not all,” said the youngest; “not all, but nearly.”
“Well, nearly,” said the other.
“Then,” said the priest, “you will not hesitate to renounce your most foul and diabolical intention?”
“We have sworn it,” said John, “and it must be done.” To this the others calmly assented.
“Well, then,” said the earnest Christian, “since you fear neither disgrace, nor shame, nor the force of human laws, nor the dread of human punishment, you are not so hardened as to bid defiance to the Almighty, by whom you will be judged. Has he not said, 'thou shalt do no murder? and that whoso sheddeth blood, by man shall his blood be shed.' I now ask you,” said he, “as one of the humblest of his accredited messengers, do you believe in God and fear him?”