In front of the house Christopher met other woodmen whom he knew,
and--"You are stirring betimes!" "Prices are good to-day!" "But little
comes to the market now!" was the cry from all sides. Christopher wanted
to say that all that didn't concern him, but he was ashamed to confess
that his design was, and an inward voice told him he must not lie.
Without answering he joined the rest, and wended his way to the market;
and on the road he thought: "There are Peter, and Godfrey, and John, who
have seven times your means, and not one of them, I'm sure, would think
of doing anything of this kind; why will you be the kind-hearted fool?
Stay! what matters it what others do or leave undone? Every man shall
answer for himself. Yes, but go to market--it is better it should be so;
yes, certainly, much better: sell your wood--who knows? perhaps he
doesn't want it--and take him the proceeds, or at least the greater
portion. But is the wood still yours? You have, properly speaking,
already given it away; it has only not been taken from your keeping...."

There are people who cannot give; they can only let a thing be taken
either by the hand of chance, or by urgency and entreaty. Christopher
had such fast hold of possession, that it was only after sore wrestling
that he let go; and yet his heart was kind, at least to-day it was so
disposed, but the tempter whispered: "It is not easy to find so
good-natured a fellow as you. How readily would you have given, had the
man been in want, and your good intention must go for the deed." Still,
on the other hand, there was something in him which made opposition,--an
echo from those hours, when, in the still night, he was driving
hither,--and it burned in him like sacred fire, and it said, "You must
now accomplish what you intended. Certainly no one knows of it, and you
are responsible to no one; but you know of it yourself, and One above
you knows, and how shall you be justified?" And he said to himself,
"I'll stand by this: look, it is just nine; if no one ask the price of