“It is,” agreed Zoeth, with absolute conviction. “See how it worked out accordin' to His promise. The wicked flourished for a time, but God sent the punishment in due season, didn't He? Can't you see the poor feller's agonizin' in every line of that letter?” “POOR feller! Good Lord above, Zoeth Hamilton, you ain't pityin' HIM, are you? You ain't sorry for him--YOU?” Zoeth nodded. “I wan't at first,” he said. “At first the whole thing, comin' on me out of a clear sky as you might say, knocked me flat. The doctor, when he came, said he thought I must have had a sudden shock. I did; that was it, that letter. But later on, when I was gettin' better and could think again, and when I was alone and had the chance and could read the letter again, I began to--to--well, not forgive him for what he done--I don't suppose I can ever do that” “I should say not! Damn him!” “Hush, Shadrach; he's dead.” “So he is. I forgot. Then he's damned, I guess, without any orders from me.” “He was damned here on earth, Shadrach. All his life--the last part of it, anyhow--must have been a torment. He must have idolized that boy of his. He says so in the letter, but it's plain on every line of the writin' without his sayin' it. And can't you just imagine him as the boy grew up and they loved each other more and more, tremblin' and scared every minute for fear that somehow or other his son'll learn that the father he loves and respects is a--a thief--and--and worse? Seems to me I can imagine it. And then all at once the boy comes to him and says he wants to marry--Oh, my soul! Shadrach, think of it!--he wants to marry your girl and mine--Marcellus's stepdaughter. Why, it must have driven him nigh crazy. And then they quarrel, and the boy, the only bein' on earth he's livin' for, goes off and leaves him. And he knows he's comin' here--to us--and that some time or other he's sartin to learn everything. No wonder he wrote that letter. No wonder--” The Captain interrupted. “Writin' you, of all people!” he said. “Writin' you and beggin' you not to let Mary-'Gusta marry his son: and for what? To save the boy from somethin' bad? No! For all he knew, Mary-'Gusta might be what she is, the best and finest girl on earth. What he was beggin' for was himself--that his son shouldn't know what HE was, that's all. No, Zoeth, I can't pity him much. He's dead, and that's a good thing, too. The wonder of it is that he's been alive all this time and we didn't know. And to think--but there; it's all wonderful.” Both were silent for a moment. Then Zoeth said: “The one thing that's troubled me most in all this, Shadrach, is about Mary-'Gusta herself. How does she really feel towards Crawford? She sent him away, you told me that, but are you sure she did it because she didn't care enough for him to marry him? Are you sure there wan't any other reason?” “She gave me to understand there wan't. What other reason could there be?”