hut; I wrung the tale of your
charities from your unwilling lips, and know and understand all. And
now, in return for all my harshness, my neglect, my cruel unkindness,
you save my life; you tend me, nurse me, watch me, and for what? _For
the love of God_.

"Don't interrupt me, little one. _You have proved the truth_ of the
faith you profess by your works. It suits me. I need no doctrinal
arguments, no theological and abstruse disquisitions, to convince me
that it is right. I believe it, May, even at the eleventh hour, when I
have but little to hope. I believe--perhaps as devils do--for, child,
I tremble."

"Oh, dear uncle, the grace of contrition is never given to devils. It
is Almighty God who has touched your heart. He pities, and would save
you. 'I desire not the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord God;
return ye, and live.'"

"Does he say that?"

"Yes; that, and ten thousand times more. Think of Him, dear uncle,
'who was wounded for our transgressions, who was bruised for our sins;
the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and by his bruises we are
healed.'"

"What must I do besides?"

"Believe, and be baptized."

"Baptized! I was raised in the belief of the Friends, and have never
been baptized," he said, musingly.

"Better so, sir, for now you can receive properly the waters of
regeneration, and experience, when you so much need them, all the
graces that flow from baptism into the believing soul," said May.

"I know the doctrines of your faith, May. I have read--I studied it in
my days of _vision_ and _unreality_ as an admirable system of human
philosophy; but _you_, child, in your humility--in your patience and
long-suffering--in your cheerful docility, have taught me that it is
divine."

"Oh, uncle, not me--_not me_! I have done nothing but duty," said May,
covered with confusion. "It is the mysterious hand of Almighty God,
leading you, guiding you to the truth."

"It can never--never be now! It is too late. I have wasted the
hours--I have buried the talents--I have derided time--now the night
cometh when no man shall work," he said, with an expression of anguish.

"Shall I bring Father Fabian? _He_ can strengthen and cheer you with
the promises of Christ; _he_ has the power and authority from a divine
source to absolve and prepare you for your passage into eternity. Oh,
sir, let me go."

"Do with me what you please, strange--strong--wise little one! Only
never leave