Right and wrong sunder more far apart, and we cannot mistake them as we do at other times.

The debatable land stretching between them--that favorite resort of undecided natures--disappears for a season, and offers no longer its false refuge.

The mind is taken away from all artificial supports, and the knowledge comes home to the soul afresh, with strong conviction that "truth is our only armor in all passages of life," as with awed hearts we see it is the only armor in the hour of death, the only shield that we may bear away with us into the unknown country.
Charles shuddered involuntarily.

His decision of the afternoon to keep secret what Raymond had told him was gradually but surely assuming a different aspect.

What was it, after all, but a suppression of truth--a kind of lie?
What was it but doing evil that good might come?
It was no use harping on the old string of consequences.