That was impossible. His life was not his own to give, save by suicide;
and that would be the unpardonable insult to God and humanity. He had
given his word to the woman, and he would keep it. In those brief moments
she must have suffered more than most men suffer in a long life. Not her
hand, however, but his, had committed the deed. And yet a sudden wave of
pity for her rushed over him, because the conviction seized him that she
would also in her heart take upon herself the burden of his guilt as
though it were her own. He had seen it in the look of her face last
night.
For the sake of her future it was her duty to shield herself from any
imputation which might as unjustly as scandalously arise, if the facts of
that black hour ever became known. Ever became known? The thought that
there might be some human eye which had seen, which knew, sent a shiver
through him.
"I would give my life a thousand times rather than that," he said aloud
to the swift-flowing river. His head sank on his breast. His lips
murmured in prayer:
"But be merciful to me, Thou just Judge of Israel, for Thou hast made me,
and Thou knowest whereof I am made.
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