Mark rose, but turned his glowing face aside; he was ashamed to look at his companion.
“Sit down there,” said Mr. Ewart, feeling for the boy’s evident confusion and distress; “perhaps you are not yet aware that I have endeavoured to serve you—to procure you a situation with Farmer Joyce?”
“I have had it, and lost it,” replied Mark abruptly.
“Indeed, I am sorry to hear that. I trust that no fault has occasioned your removal.”
“I stole his fruit,” said Mark, determined at least to hide nothing from his benefactor; “he turned me off, and he called me a hypocrite. I am bad enough,” continued the boy, in an agitated tone; “no one but myself knows how bad; but I am not a hypocrite—I am not!”
“God forbid!” said Mr. Ewart; “but how did all this happen?”
“I was thirsty, it tempted me, and I took it. I broke all my resolutions, and now he cast me off, and you will cast me off, and the pure holy God, He will cast me off too! I shall never be worthy of heaven!”
“Did you think that you could ever be worthy of heaven?” said the clergyman, and paused for a reply. Then receiving none from Mark, he continued—“Not you, nor I, nor the holiest man that ever lived, One excepted, who was not only man, but God, was ever worthy of the kingdom of heaven.”
Mark looked at him in silent surprise.