"But I cannot," said Hubert. "It may be true, all you say, but I have sinned so long, or else I am different to other people. God may forgive such as you, but I have sinned too much."
"Oh no, not too much for God to forgive. He knows all you have done, and He knows all you need. Christ has died for you; why should you be lost?"
"Does God know all I've done? Does He know how hard I tried to lead a better life?—and then Ellen died! No, I cannot believe it Go, go; leave me alone. What matters how I die? Go, and leave me as I am." And, clasping his hands tightly upon his bosom, he said with earnestness, as he looked upward, "Lord, have mercy upon me." Then he was exhausted; a faint hue came over his face, and the doctor, seeing that the strength of the sufferer was failing, stayed by his bedside to administer to his need. Hubert's hands had fallen upon the coverlet, and as the doctor took one in his own, he started at its strange coldness, and for a long time he chafed it. All, indeed, that could be done was done for Hubert, and throughout the long, sultry, silent night the nurse and doctor watched with Christian love beside the lonely bed. Hubert at length fell into a heavy sleep; it was the crisis of the fever, and never was infant slumber more softly guarded than that of his. And the next day went on; night came again; the sun in all its splendour went down in the western horizon, and the doctor crept softly into Hubert's chamber to take another look at the sleeper. He had gazed some minutes, he had breathed a prayer, and was turning away when, with a gentle sigh, Hubert awoke. There was a ray of light upon his face; he was better; the fever had left him, and the doctor, after administering a cordial, gave him for the night to the care of the nurse, who well knew how to attend to him; and he assured Hubert that, if he attended to his instructions, his leg would be the only cause for uneasiness, and he hoped, by God's blessing, he would soon recover from that. Then, as he was leaving, he promised to come again the next morning and read to him. The morning came, the doctor was there, and he told all about God's mercy and love to the vilest of earth's sinners; then he knelt and prayed, with all the earnestness of his heart, for all God's grace to the sufferer; and with such simple words and touching sadness did he tell the Prodigal's story, that Hubert's unbelief and despair yielded at once to the mighty power of direct communication with God, and tears fell fast upon his pillow.
The doctor had been more than an hour with Hubert, and now onward to other sufferers he went, with his double mission. The scene in Hubert's room had urged him to be more earnest in his Master's cause, and his soul was full of prayer that a heavenly ray might illume Hubert's darkened heart and bring him to the feet of Jesus. Little did the sufferer know how earnestly that good man desired his salvation, and little did the regiment know, as its members saw him, with earnest thoughtful brow, wending his way beneath the shadow of the high wall, that in yonder lone building lay the cause of his toiling through the hot summer days, toiling again as night came round, growing more sallow and more gaunt, yet never seeming to weary. "My grace is sufficient for thee," was strictly exemplified in that earnest faithful disciple; God blessed him, and kept him a burning and a shining light, amidst all the sin and temptation of India's dark land; and though a scoff and a sneer were not unfrequently the reward of his efforts to reclaim the sinner, many a scoffer sent for him in the last sad hour, and a few testified, by a better life, to the holiness of his.
Each time the doctor returned to Hubert, he found him slightly better; his wounded forehead was nearly well, and his shattered leg was progressing favourably; all traces of feverishness were gone, and the doctor seemed pleased as he told him that though at present the least thing might bring on fever again, which would certainly be fatal, yet, if all went well, he hoped in a few days to be able to pronounce him out of danger.
"Pray that it may be so," said Hubert, "for I dare not die now: God has heard your last prayer; a week ago I could have died to rid my heart of its dreadful despair, and the terrible weight that was upon it, but not now. I do think there is a little hope for me—pray something for me, you know so well all about me;—how came you to know so much?"
The doctor, sitting down by the bed, said, "Goodwin, many a year has passed away since you and your companions first attracted my notice. I remember well the morning you landed in Calcutta, for, if you recollect, your own doctor died on the passage out, and I accepted the appointment as you lay out in the bay, and went down to meet you on landing. I was, of course, strange to all of you, but the thing that struck me most was the extreme youth of the regiment—the majority did not appear much over twenty years of age, and then there was a good number of youths apparently about sixteen. I remember that many remarks were made at the time about you all, and I came to the conclusion that at least half of you had come to India to die. I have not been wrong either in that; but I am going from the point—I remember that I was particularly struck with you and a fair, gentle-looking companion you had."
Hubert sighed, "It was poor Harris."
"Yes, that was his name, poor fellow. Well, very soon I found out all about the life you were leading; your higher privileges were snares, not only to you and your companions, but to all the men, and the first grief I felt after joining you was at the reckless and sinful example you were setting. When first struck down with fever, how I longed, hoped, and prayed for your conversion. But you know how your life passed on, and I need not tell you that from that first hour of meeting you till now, I have watched you, and prayed for you, and I know quite well that God's Holy Spirit has often been striving very hard with you; but the warnings you have had have generally passed away like the dew upon the earth, and now the Almighty has mercifully stopped your career by this affliction. Don't let it pass like the others have done, but take your heart, with all its weight of sin, and lay it bare before God. He knows all your need, will help you in all your sorrows, pardon all your sins, and make you holy; but you must ask His aid—you must confess all your sin—you must pray to Him with a broken heart."
Hubert sighed, and then, after a moment's pause, said, "Doctor, it is no easy matter to do as you say I ought; and you judge me harshly when you say I have neglected all the warnings I have had. You remember poor Harris? Well, his death had more effect upon me than you know; for weeks and weeks I thought of nothing else, and tried very hard to change, but somehow I could not And then poor Ellen! you remember her? I should have been another man if she had lived; but no, I was not allowed to be better: I lost her, and I know I have been bad since; it drove me almost mad. But, Doctor, was it all my fault?" And Hubert burst into tears.