"Such sorrow as I trust that you may never know!"
"But the Lord can bring light out of darkness," said Walter.
"He can indeed—bless you for the word!" cried the stranger suddenly, clasping his hands, and turning towards the young man with a look of mingled sorrow and joy. "God can bring light out of darkness—good out of evil! He can bring the sinner to His feet, and the rebel to a throne—all things are possible to Him! Were you to know my story," he continued more rapidly, "you would indeed wonder at the power of God, to whom belongs the kingdom over the hearts of men! If ever there was a sinner—I was one; if ever there was a soul stained by guilt—that soul was mine? I had struggled against conscience, I had turned from my God, I was rushing on in the broad way that leadeth to destruction, and yet the hand of mercy could find me even there!"
Walter and Nelly listened with interest and surprise to a confession so frank and so unexpected. The stranger went on, in his rapid, earnest manner, as though he found it a relief to his heart to pour out its fulness.
"It is well, my children, it is well that you should know something of the man whom you have welcomed to your hearth. I once was young, unsuspicious as yourselves; mine was a kind heart, and a free open hand; I neither thought of want nor feared temptation. From how slight a cause men's ruin may spring! At a place of amusement, I once met with a youth. I found him pleasant; we conversed—met again and again; he became my companion—most dangerous companion! He was one who despised religion, and laughed at the word conscience; he gained an influence over my young mind, and made use of it to ruin his so-called friend!"
"As you love your peace—as you love your own soul," continued the stranger, addressing himself earnestly to Walter, "oh! Avoid the society of such! Let my fate be to you like a beacon on a quicksand, to warn you from that which brings destruction!"
"He took me to scenes from which I once would have shrunk; he led me into habits which I should once have blushed to form; I acquired a thirst for amusement and excitement, and where was I to find means to gratify that thirst? I was then a poor apprentice in London; a generous friend had paid the sum required by my master, for I myself was a penniless orphan. I was not only without money, but in debt, and following a career which plunged me deeper and deeper into it. I had but little credit—no means of gaining money. Oh! When conscience is stifled, and religion set aside, how easy is the transition from the debtor to the thief! My companion first taught me to embezzle from my master. My guilt was suspected; I was seized, sent to prison; a day was appointed for my trial. As my character until now had been considered respectable, I was admitted to bail, and the same generous friend, who had helped me before on my setting out in life, became my security now."
"It is better, indeed, to relate what followed; but I wish you to know all—I would have nothing concealed. I felt that my case would not stand a trial. I was visited again by my evil companion, the tempter who had led me to disgrace. Urged by him, or rather by my own guilty fears, I broke faith with my friend, escaped into France, and led there a life the remembrance of which would bow me to the dust had I not learned to hope that even the chief of sinners might find mercy."
"I married, lost my wife in the first year of our union, then returned to my own country under a false name; and in company with men as guilty as myself, supported myself by the gains of dishonesty."
"Why should I tell all this," exclaimed the stranger, "but that you may shun the paths in which I fell—that you may learn from one who speaks from terrible experience, that there is no wretchedness on earth like that of guilt—and flee betimes from the approach of the tempter! There may be the loud laugh, the burst of wild mirth, the feast, the revel, the intoxicating draught; but oh! The bitterness, the sickening joylessness within, where the soul dare not turn its gaze on itself, when it seeks excitement to stifle thought, when solitude is terrible, reflection intolerable."