“Before I did the deed,” he continued, after a pause, “my memory took knowledge of all sweet things; of all dear faces I have ever seen; of all generous and blessed deeds I had ever done.  But after that I could remember but one thing,—­the murderer; only one face,—­the face of him I killed, and all my life, and the glory of it, was thrown into black eclipse by that one terrible act.  Before I did the deed Nature was a joy to me, but now in every star I see his countenance looking down upon me.  In every flower I see his still, cold face.  The winds bear to me his voice.  The water of those rapids”—­and the man stretched his hand out towards the flowing river—­“sounds to me like the rattle in his throat as he lay dying.  How shall I find release, old man?  How quit myself of this terrible curse?” and the man’s words ended in a groan.

“The mercy of the Lord be great,” replied the trapper; “greater than any deed of guilt did by mortal; great enough to cover you, friend, and your misdoin’, as a mother covers the error of her child with her forgiveness.”

“I know the mercy of the Lord is great,” answered the man, “I know His forgiveness covers all; but the old law—­old as the world, old as guilt and justice—­the law of life for life and blood for blood,—­has never been repealed.  And this is the one comfort left for the noble:  that however great the guilt, however wicked the deed, the atonement can be as great as the sin.  He who dies pays all debts.  He who has sent one to the grave and goes to the grave voluntarily, goes into the arms of mercy.  I know not where else, with all his searching, man may surely find it.”

Again there was silence.  Above, the stars shone warmly through the dusky gloom.  The rapids roared, falling hoarsely through the darkness.  A moaning ran along the pine-tops; the firelight flamed and flickered, and the flames flashed the four faces into sight that were grouped around the brands.  At length the trapper said: 

“What is it ye have in yer heart to do, friend?”

“I took a life,” answered the man; “I must give one in return.  I took a life and my life is forfeited.  This is my condemnation, and I pronounce it on myself.  My judge is not above; my judge is within.  In this the world finds protection, and in this the sinner finds release from sin.  There is no other way; at least, no other way so perfect.  One man was great enough to die for the sins of others.  They who would rise to the level of his life must be great enough to lay down their life for their own sins.  This is justice; and out of such true justice blooms the perfect mercy.”  To this the man added thoughtfully, “There is but one objection.”

“What is the objection?” asked Herbert.  “What is the objection, if one be great enough to make so great a sacrifice?”