"
"You have that still to do."
"Arthur!" It was a cry of actual terror; but
the Gadfly went on, unheeding:
"Let us be honest, whatever we do, and not
shilly-shally. You and I stand on two sides of a
pit, and it's hopeless trying to join hands across
it. If you have decided that you can't, or won't,
give up that thing"--he glanced again at the
crucifix on the wall--"you must consent to what
the colonel----"
"Consent! My God--consent--Arthur, but I
love you!"
The Gadfly's face contracted fearfully.
"Which do you love best, me or that thing?"
Montanelli slowly rose. The very soul in him
withered with dread, and he seemed to shrivel up
bodily, and to grow feeble, and old, and wilted,
like a leaf that the frost has touched. He had
awaked out of his dream, and the outer darkness
was staring in upon an empty place.
"Arthur, have just a little mercy on me----"
"How much had you for me when your lies
drove me out to be slave to the blacks on the
sugar-plantations? You shudder at that--ah,
these tender-hearted saints! This is the man
after God's own heart--the man that repents of
his sin and lives.
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