He turned
restlessly in his bed and tried to banish these thoughts and bring
back his schemes of vengeance, but he could not do it. He knew what
was the right--what he ought to do--but he was not willing to do it.
Hour after hour he argued the matter with himself, finding all sorts
of reasons why, in this case, he might take vengeance into his own
hands and "learn that Dick Hunt a lesson," yet feeling and knowing in
the depths of his heart that whatever the old Tode Bryan might have
done, Theodore Bryan, who was trying to be the bishop's shadow,
certainly had no right to do evil to somebody else simply because that
somebody had done evil to him.
It was nearly morning before the long battle with himself was over,
but it ended at last, and it was Theodore, and not Tode who was
victorious, and it was the memory of the bishop's face, and of the
bishop's prayer that day in the poorhouse, that finally settled the
matter.
"He'd fight for somebody else, the bishop would, but he wouldn't ever
fight for himself, an' I mustn't neither," the boy murmured, softly,
and then with a long breath he turned his face to the wall and fell
asleep, and he had but just awakened from that sleep when Mr. Scott,
with Tag under his arm, came through the long corridor to the ward
where Theodore was lying in the very last cot, next the wall.
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