of spirit. "Nothing, nothing that is at stake is worth that—can be worth that."
For a moment Hampstead was silent.
"To be loyal, Rollie, to be true to the highest duty is worth everything."
This was what he would have liked to say; it was what he believed; it was what he meant to demonstrate by his course of action; but for the moment he could not say it. Instead, he swallowed hard and looked downward, toying with a paper-knife upon his desk. But his visitor was going now. There was no reason why he should stay, and the minister, as he held open the door, was able to say warningly: "Remember! Not one word for the sake of your mother's life."
"But you," protested the young man, his eyes again staring wildly.
"You are to try not to think of me," declared Hampstead, with low emphasis, "except as my own steadfastness in my duty—if I am able to be steadfast—may help you to be steadfast in yours. Rollie! We understand each other?"
But the young fellow only shook his head negatively with a growing look of awe and wonder in his eyes, then turned and slipped hastily away. He did not understand this man—the bigness of him—at all; but he found himself leaning on him more and more heavily and felt some spiritual cleansing process digging at the inside of himself like the scrape and bite of a steam shovel.
As for the minister, once he was free to think of himself alone, he perceived that Rollie's story had set him free of silence. It supplied the gap in his knowledge which had made him dumb. There was a real defense which could now be offered. Now, too, that there was again some prospect of vindication, he felt his desire for vindication grow.
