"And yet, sir, I remember a whip of
small cords."
_The Preacher_. "Truly, for Evil sometimes so deadens the soul that it
can feel only through the flesh."
_Barnabas_. "Then--a man may fight and yet be a gentleman?"
_The Preacher_. "He who can forgive, can fight."
_Barnabas_. "Sir, I am relieved to know that. But must Forgiveness
always come after?"
_The Preacher_. "If the evil is truly repented of."
_Barnabas_. "Even though the evil remain?"
_The Preacher_. "Ay, young sir, for then Forgiveness becomes truly
divine."
_Barnabas_. "Hum!"
_The Preacher_. "But you eat nothing, young sir."
_Barnabas_. "I was thinking."
_The Preacher_. "Of what?"
_Barnabas_. "Sir, my thought embraced you."
_The Preacher_. "How, young sir?"
_Barnabas_. "I was wondering if you had ever heard of a man named
Chichester?"
_The Preacher_ (speaking brokenly, and in a whisper). "Sir!--young
sir,--you said--?"
_Barnabas_ (rising). "Chichester!"
_The Preacher_ (coming to his knees). "Sir,--oh, sir,--this
man--Chichester is he who stole away--my daughter,--who blasted her
honor and my life,--who--"
_Barnabas_.
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