"
And then, remembering that the sinner was so near his end, and that this
voluntary confession of his was in some manner a sign of repentance, she
felt some compunction, and spoke to him in a softer tone.
"Still I'm grateful to you for telling me the truth at last, Stephen,"
she said; "and, thank God, there's no harm done that need last for ever.
Thank God that dear young lady did not lose her life, shut up a prisoner
in that miserable room, as she might have done."
"She had her victuals regular," observed Mr. Whitelaw, "and the best."
"Eating and drinking won't keep any one alive, if their heart's
breaking," said Ellen; "but, thank heaven, her sufferings have come to an
end now, and I trust God will forgive your share in them, Stephen."
And then, sitting by his bedside through the long hours of that night,
she tried in very simple words to awaken him to a sense of his condition.
It was not an easy business to let any glimmer of spiritual light in upon
the darkness of that sordid mind. There did arise perhaps in this last
extremity some dim sense of remorse in the breast of Mr. Whitelaw, some
vague consciousness that in that one act of his life, and in the whole
tenor of his life, he had not exactly shaped his conduct according to
that model which the parson had held up for his imitation in certain
rather prosy sermons, indifferently heard, on the rare occasions of his
attendance at the parish church.
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