“Yes; I never saw a mark like that afore, either from blow or burn.”
“Mother don’t like to hear it talked of,” said Madge.
“Well, whatever has put all this nonsense into his head, father will soon knock it out of him when he comes back!” cried Jack. “He’s left off begging,—he won’t ask for a penny, and he used to get more than we three together, ’cause ladies said he looked so interesting; and he’ll not so much as take an egg from a nest,—he’s turned quite good for nothing!”
Leaving the three children to pursue their conversation, we will return to him who was the subject of it. That which had made them scoff had made him reflect,—he could not get rid of those solemn words, “There is One above the heavens who hears the words of your lips, reads the thoughts of your hearts—One who will judge, and can punish!” They reminded him of what he had read in his book, The soul that sinneth it shall die; he knew himself to be a sinner, and he trembled.
Little dreaming what was passing in the mind of the peasant, Mr. Ewart examined the ruin without noticing him further, and Mark still leant on the gate, a silent, attentive listener.
“I think, Charles,” said the tutor, “that I should like to make a sketch of this spot, I have brought my paint-box and drawing block with me, and if I could only procure a little water—”
“Please may I bring you some, sir?” said Mark.
The offer was accepted, and the boy went off at once, still turning in his mind the conversation that had passed.
“‘Pilgrims in the narrow path that leadeth to salvation,’—I wish that I knew what he meant. Is that a path only for holy men like him, or can it be that it is open to me? Salvation! that is safety, safety from punishment, safety from the anger of the terrible God. Oh, what can I do to be saved!”
In a few minutes Mark returned with some fresh water which he brought in an old broken jar. He set it down by the spot where Mr. Ewart was seated.