- end_line
- 5460
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:55.409Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 5418
- text
- compassion, and charity, happily interweaving the three. Had it been
otherwise, doubtless, as you hint, some of my interferences might have
ended unhappily enough. Besides, those feelings I spoke of enabled me
to get the better of momentary distrust, at times when acuteness might
have cost me my life, without saving another’s. Only at the end did my
suspicions get the better of me, and you know how wide of the mark they
then proved.”
“Wide, indeed,” said Don Benito, sadly; “you were with me all day;
stood with me, sat with me, talked with me, looked at me, ate with me,
drank with me; and yet, your last act was to clutch for a monster, not
only an innocent man, but the most pitiable of all men. To such degree
may malign machinations and deceptions impose. So far may even the best
man err, in judging the conduct of one with the recesses of whose
condition he is not acquainted. But you were forced to it; and you were
in time undeceived. Would that, in both respects, it was so ever, and
with all men.”
“You generalize, Don Benito; and mournfully enough. But the past is
passed; why moralize upon it? Forget it. See, yon bright sun has
forgotten it all, and the blue sea, and the blue sky; these have turned
over new leaves.”
“Because they have no memory,” he dejectedly replied; “because they are
not human.”
“But these mild trades that now fan your cheek, do they not come with a
human-like healing to you? Warm friends, steadfast friends are the
trades.”
“With their steadfastness they but waft me to my tomb, Señor,” was the
foreboding response.
“You are saved,” cried Captain Delano, more and more astonished and
pained; “you are saved: what has cast such a shadow upon you?”
“The negro.”
There was silence, while the moody man sat, slowly and unconsciously
gathering his mantle about him, as if it were a pall.
There was no more conversation that day.
- title
- Chunk 2