What it was that dictated my next question, I cannot precisely
say. Nevertheless, it rose so inevitably into my mouth, and, as it
were, asked itself so involuntarily, that there must needs have been
an aptness in it.
"What is to become of Priscilla?"
Hollingsworth looked at me fiercely, and with glowing eyes. He could
not have shown any other kind of expression than that, had he meant
to strike me with a sword.
"Why do you bring in the names of these women?" said he, after a
moment of pregnant silence. "What have they to do with the proposal
which I make you? I must have your answer! Will you devote yourself,
and sacrifice all to this great end, and be my friend of friends
forever?"
"In Heaven's name, Hollingsworth," cried I, getting angry, and glad
to be angry, because so only was it possible to oppose his tremendous
concentrativeness and indomitable will, "cannot you conceive that a
man may wish well to the world, and struggle for its good, on some
other plan than precisely that which you have laid down? And will
you cast off a friend for no unworthiness, but merely because he
stands upon his right as an individual being, and looks at matters
through his own optics, instead of yours?"
"Be with me," said Hollingsworth, "or be against me! There is no
third choice for you."
"Take this, then, as my decision," I answered. "I doubt the wisdom
of your scheme. Furthermore, I greatly fear that the methods by
which you allow yourself to pursue it are such as cannot stand the
scrutiny of an unbiassed conscience.
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