Shall no the Judge of all the earth do right--right--right?"
And murmuring that word of words to himself, over and over, more and more
faintly, he turned slowly over, and seemed to slumber--
Some half hour passed before we tried to stir him. He was dead.
And the candles waned grey, and the great light streamed in through every
crack and cranny, and the sun had risen on the Tenth of April. What would
be done before the sun had set?
What would be done? Just what we had the might to do; and therefore,
according to the formula on which we were about to act, that mights are
rights, just what we had a right to do--nothing. Futility, absurdity,
vanity, and vexation of spirit. I shall make my next a short chapter. It is
a day to be forgotten--and forgiven.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE TENTH OF APRIL.
And he was gone at last! Kind women, whom his unknown charities had saved
from shame, laid him out duly, and closed his eyes, and bound up that face
that never would beam again with genial humour, those lips that would
never again speak courage and counsel to the sinful, the oppressed, the
forgotten.
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