This fall of their chief pillar--this irrational
passion in the practical man, suddenly barred out of
his true sphere--the sphere of action--shocked and
daunted them. But it gave to another and unseen hearer
the chance for which he had been waiting. Mac, on the
striking of the brig, had crawled up the companion, and
he now showed himself and spoke up.
"Captain Wicks," said he, "it's me that brought this
trouble on the lot of ye. I'm sorry for ut, I ask all
your pardons, and if there's any one can say 'I forgive
ye,' it'll make my soul the lighter."
Wicks stared upon the man in amaze; then his self-
control returned to him. "We're all in glass houses
here," he said; "we ain't going to turn to and throw
stones. I forgive you, sure enough; and much good may
it do you!"
The others spoke to the same purpose.
"I thank ye for ut, and 'tis done like gentlemen," said
Mac. "But there's another thing I have upon my mind.
I hope we're all Prodestans here?"
It appeared they were; it seemed a small thing for the
Protestant religion to rejoice in!
"Well, that's as it should be," continued Mac.
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