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Business was his gospel, the contract his god, and he had been its zealous disciple, allowing no room for the spirit of the law but only for the letter.
The young relative of Scrooge seemed to be master of himself not by controlling his anger but by having none of it at all.
“Perhaps,” the spirit offered, “the contribution they sought was not as important as the one they had to give.”
“Do not think that a spirit does not have a kind heart! For we do. I ache for her needs. But if I were to give her food and clothing and a home, what would be required of you?”
“Justice?” said the ghost. “Jacob, if the actions of man did not matter, if spirits removed every obstacle from life, would you not blame every success your neighbor won and every failure you bore as the random or unfair decisions of a race you could not see? ‘Why,’ you would ask, ‘does this one live and this one die?’ And all the while they were doing so, you would do nothing for them, pondering your grand misfortune for not being smiled upon rather than using your liberty to change the course of events. Jacob, this choice you have is a gift, and we must let you use it, for good or ill.”
This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!” cried the spirit, stretching out its hand toward the city. “Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And bide the end!”
“Jacob, you gave all for your fellow man. Greater love does not exist. You laid down your life for a friend. Your sacrifice satisfied the demands of justice. Jacob, you too are now free.”
