an advanced state of civilization dispenses with sectarian—I mean superstitious—literal threats.’
‘No civilization can change those decrees, nor make them unmerited,’ said Miss Fennimore, sadly.
‘How?’ repeated Bertha, frowning. ‘You, too? You don’t mean that? You are not one of the narrow minds that want to doom their fellow-creatures for ever.’ Her eyes had grown large, round, and bright, and she clutched Miss Fennimore’s hand, gasping, ‘Say, not for ever!’
‘My poor child! did I ever teach you it was not?’
‘You thought so!’ cried Bertha; ‘enlightened people think so. O say—only say it does not last!’
‘Bertha, I cannot. God forgive me for the falsehoods to which I led you, the realities I put aside from you.’
Bertha gave a cry of anguish, and sank back exhausted, damps of terror on her brow; but she presently cried out, ‘If it would not last! I can’t bear the thought! I can’t bear to live, but I can’t die! Oh! who will save me?’
To Miss Fennimore’s lips rose the words of St. Paul to the jailer.
‘Believe! believe!’ cried Bertha, petulantly, ‘believe what?’
‘Believe that He gave His Life to purchase your safety and mine through that Eternity.’