chum to me. When I spoke of old persons it never
occurred to me that you could fall into that class! I never knew you to be
unjust, or unkind, or--narrow--perhaps I should say, unsympathetic."

The other gave no sign of hearing.

"My body was breaking so fast--and you break my heart!"

"There you are, sir," began the youth, a little excitedly. "Your heart is
breaking _not_ because I'm not good, but because I form a different
opinion from yours of a man rising from the dead, after he has been
crucified to appease the anger of his father."

"God help me! I'm so human. I _can't_ feel toward you as I should. Boy, I
_won't_ believe you are sane." He looked up in a sudden passion of hope.
"I won't believe Christ died in vain for my girl's little boy. Bernal,
boy, you are still sick of that fever!"

The other smiled, his youthful scorn for the moment overcoming his deeper
feeling for his listener.

"Then I must talk more. Now, sir, for God's sake let us have the plain
truth of the crucifixion. Where was the sacrifice? Can you not picture the
mob that would fight for the honour of crucifixion to-morrow, if it were
known that the one chosen would sit at the right hand of God and judge all
the world? I say there was no sacrifice, even if Christian dogma be
literal truth. Why, sir, I could go into the street and find ten men in
ten minutes who would be crucified a hundred times to save the souls of us
from hell--_not_ if they were to be rewarded with a seat on the throne of
God where they could send into hell those who did not believe in them--but
for no reward whatever--out of a sheer love for humanity. Don't you see,
sir, that we have magnified that crucifixion out of all proportion to the
plainest truth of our lives? You know I would die on a cross to-day, not
to redeem the world, but to redeem one poor soul--your own. If you deny
that, at least you won't dare deny that you would go on the cross to
redeem _my_ soul from hell--the soul of one man--and do you think you
would demand a reward for doing it, beyond knowing that you had ransomed
me from torment? Would it be necessary to your happiness that you also
have the power to send into hell all those who were not able to believe
you had actually died for me?

"One moment more, sir--" The thin, brown, old hand had been raised in
trembling appeal, while the lips moved without sound.

"You see every day in the papers how men die for other men, for one man,
for two, a dozen