When the young man
returned from the West he found his sweetheart married, and hell upon
earth was their lot. But hope lingers in your hearts. He waited four
years; and then, discouraged, he married another woman. Gentlemen, three
days after the wedding his old sweetheart's husband died, and she was
released from bondage. Was not that the hand of the Supreme Arbiter? If
he had waited but three days more, the old happiness might have lived.
"But wait! One month after that day the young man was arrested, taken to
a Western State, tried for murder, and hanged. Do you see the point? In
three days more the girl who had sold herself into slavery for the
salvation of those she loved would have been released from her bondage
only to marry a murderer!"
There was silence, in which all five listened to that wild moaning of the
storm. There seemed to be something in it now--something more than the
inarticulate sound of wind and trees. Forsythe scratched a match and
relighted his cigar.
"I never thought of such things in just that light," he said.
"Listen to the wind," said the little priest. "Hear the pine-trees shriek
out there! It recalls to me a night of years and years ago--a night like
this, when the storm moaned and twisted about my little cabin, and when
the Supreme Arbiter sent me my first penitent. Gentlemen, it is something
which will bring you nearer to an understanding of the voice and the hand
of God.
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