During the whole time the work was progressing he seemed to be contending with violent emotions and driven along by some power he vainly tried to resist.  Terror, awe, and repugnance were all portrayed upon his countenance.  But still the work went on.  When it was finished he stood off a few steps, and then, as in a sudden frenzy, rushed at, and seizing upon the several sticks of wood, hurled them in every direction around until the whole pile was demolished.  Neglecting his hat that lay upon the ground, he then ran with a wild cry, and at the top of his speed, bounding, like a wild animal, over the brush and trunks of trees, as if in haste to remove himself from a dreadful object, until he reached the woods, when falling upon his face, he lay quite still.  After a time he appeared seized with a hysterical passion; he pressed his hand on his side as if in pain, and heavy sobs burst at irregular intervals from his bosom.  These finally passed away, and he sat up comparatively composed.  A struggle was still going on, for several times he got up and walked a short distance and returned and threw himself down on the ground as before.  At length, indistinctly muttering, unheeding the blazing sun that scorched his unprotected head, and lingering as though unwilling to advance, he returned to the scene of his former labors.  And now, as if unwilling to trust himself with any delay, lest his resolution might falter, he proceeded, with a sort of feverish impatience, to reconstruct the pile.  Shortly, the pieces were laid symmetrically upon each other as before, and the dead leaves and brush disposed in the intervals.  After all was done, Armstrong leaned over and bowed his head in an attitude of supplication.  When he raised it the eyes were tearless, and his pale face wore an aspect of settled despair.  Resuming the hat, that until now had lain neglected in the leaves, he went to the brook and washed his hands in the running water.

“Could man wash out the sins of his soul,” he said, “as I wash these stains from my hands!  But water, though it may cleanse outer pollution, cannot reach the inner sin.  Blood, blood only, can do that.  Why was it that this dreadful law was imposed upon our race?  But I will not dwell on this.  I have interrogated the universe and God, and entreated them to disclose the awful secret, but in vain.  My heart and brain are burnt to ashes in the attempt to decipher the mystery.  I will strive no more.  It is a provocation to faith.  I dare not trust to reason.  There is something above reason.  I submit.  Dreadful, unfathomable mystery, I submit, and accept thee with all the consequences at which the quivering flesh recoils.”