A fire of moral courage had blazed up suddenly in
his breast. His better nature rose to the help of the angel with the
flaming sword, and together they fought, as the giants of old fought
the dragons in their path. Then hope came back, and courage grew, and
resolution found new footing. He stood there as he stood that day
on the carriage that bore Robert Burnham to his death, the light of
heroism in his eyes, the glow of splendid faith illuming his face. He
could not help but conquer. He drove the spirit of temptation from his
breast, and enthroned in its stead the principle of everlasting right.
There was no thought now of yielding; he felt brave and strong to meet
every trial, yes, every terror that might lie in his path, without
flinching one hair's breadth from the stern line of duty.
But now that his decision was made, he must act, and that promptly.
What was the first thing to be done? Why, the first thing always was
to confide in Uncle Billy, and to ask for his advice.
He seized his hat and started up the village street and across the
hill to Burnham Breaker There was no lagging now, no indecision in his
step, no doubt within his mind.
He was once more brave, hopeful, free-hearted, ready to do anything or
all things, that justice might be done and truth become established.
The sun shone down upon him tenderly, the birds sang carols to him on
the way, the blossoming trees cast white flowers at his feet; but he
never stayed his steps nor turned his thought until the black heights
of Burnham Breaker threw their shadows on his head.
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