"I am wavering," answered the old hawk, while he tried to cool the fire in his eye with a film of piety. "I am hit very hard over this. You’ve let in the light on me, your reverence. It calls back to my mind that famous party, namely Bendigo--once a Champion of England, now a champion of the next world; for he’s taken to preaching and, as he told me last time we met, is under articles to fight the Devil and all his works. A great man in his way, and they’ve given his name to half Australia, I’m told; but, though very free and forcible with words, he hasn’t got the flow of your reverence. Of course you wouldn’t expect it from a prize-fighter. And now with your solemn speeches booming on my sinful ears, I ask myself what I am to do." "Let me tell you the answer to that question, Mr. Fogo," said the clergyman, very earnestly. "If your conscience has been mercifully permitted to waken at my voice, take heed that it shall not sink to sleep again. Emulate your reformed friend, Mr. Bendigo. Put on the armour of light and the breastplate of righteousness. Look back at these days of seclusion in this rural scene as Paul looked back to that journey on which burst in the dazzling light of living truth. Let the scales fall from your eyes, Mr. Fogo. Choose the better path, henceforth, sir. You are an able man. I can see it in your face. There is intellect there. With greater advantages you might have made a mark in the world and assisted its welfare. And that you must and shall still do! There is none among us so humble but that he possesses the grand, the glorious privilege and power to help the world towards goodness. Act rightly in this matter and great will be your reward--if not in this world, my dear friend, none the less and of a surety in the world to come." "Exactly so," said Mr. Fogo. "I know you’re right--I’m sure of it. You understand these things--nobody better. It is your holy calling so to do. I see now as never I saw before, that fighting oughtn’t to be. I almost begin to believe that it’s my duty to stop this fight. And yet--" "Don’t dally with the idea, Mr. Fogo," urged Charles Moses. "Believe it once for all and do your duty. Your salvation may hang upon it!" Mr. Merle was a little vexed with the warden’s interference. He put up his hand and said, "Hush, Moses; leave this to me, please."