But, if he makes no effort,--shrinking without
a struggle from his duty,--he himself will not the less certainly
perish for this baseness of poltroonery. He will die no less: and why
not? Wherefore should we grieve that there is one craven less in the
world? No; _let_ him perish, without a pitying thought of ours
wasted upon him; and, in that case, all our grief will be reserved for
the fate of the helpless girl who now, upon the least shadow of failure
in _him_, must by the fiercest of translations--must without time
for a prayer--must within seventy seconds stand before the judgment-
seat of God.
But craven he was not: sudden had been the call upon him, and sudden
was his answer to the call. He saw, he heard, he comprehended, the ruin
that was coming down: already its gloomy shadow darkened above him; and
already he was measuring his strength to deal with it. Ah! what a
vulgar thing does courage seem when we see nations buying it and
selling it for a shilling a-day: ah! what a sublime thing does courage
seem when some fearful summons on the great deeps of life carries a
man, as if running before a hurricane, up to the giddy crest of some
tumultuous crisis from which lie two courses, and a voice says to him
audibly, "One way lies hope; take the other, and mourn for ever!" How
grand a triumph if, even then, amidst the raving of all around him, and
the frenzy of the danger, the man is able to confront his situation--is
able to retire for a moment into solitude with God, and to seek his
counsel from _Him!_
For seven seconds, it might be, of his seventy, the stranger settled
his countenance steadfastly upon us, as if to search and value every
element in the conflict before him.
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