When I told the priest what he said, the poor affectionate man could not refrain from weeping; but recovering himself "Pray, Sir," said he, "ask him if he is contented that it is too late; or is he concerned, and wishes it were not so?" This question I put fairly to Atkins, who replied in a passion, How can I be easy in a state which I know must terminate in my ruin? for I really believe, some time or other, I shall cut my threat, to put a period both to my life, and to the terrors of my conscience.
At this, the clergyman shook his head, "Sir," said he, "pray tell him it is not too late; Christ will give him repentance, if he has recourse to the merit of his passion. Does he think he is beyond the power of Divine mercy? There may indeed be a time when provoked mercy will no longer strive, but never too late for men to repent in this world." I told Atkins every word the priest had said, who then parted from us to walk with his wife, while we discoursed with the rest. But these were very stupid in religious matters; yet all of them promised to do their endeavours to make their wives turn Christians; and upon which promises the priest married the three couple. But as Atkins was the only sincere convert and of more sense than the rest, my clergyman was earnestly inquiring after him: "Sir," said he, "let us walk out of this labyrinth, & I dare say we shall find this poor man preaching to his wife already." And indeed we found it true; for coming to the edge of the wood, we perceived Atkins and his savage wife sitting under the shade of a bush, in very earnest discourse; he pointed to the sun, to the quarters of the earth, to himself, to her, the woods, and the trees. Immediately we could perceive him start upon his feet, fall down upon his knees, and lift up both his hands; at which the tears ran down my clergyman's cheeks; but our great misfortune was, we could not hear one word that passed between them. Another time he would embrace her, wiping the tears from her eyes, kissing her with the greatest transports, and then both kneel down for some minutes together. Such raptures of joy did this confirm in my young priest, that he could scarcely contain himself: And a little after this, we observed by her motion, as frequently lifting up her hands, and laying them on her breast, that she was mightily affected with his discourse, and so they withdrew from our sight.
When we came back, we found them both waiting to be called in; upon which he agreed to examine him alone, and so I began thus to discourse him. "Prithee, Will Atkins," said I, "what education have you? What was your father?"
W.A. A better man than ever I shall be; he was, Sir, a clergyman, who gave me good instruction, or correction, which I despised like a brute as I was, and murdered my poor father.
Pr. Ha! a murderer!
[Here the priest started and looked pale, as thinking he had really killed his father.]
R.C. What, did you kill him with your hands?
W.A. No, Sir, I cut not his throat, but broke his heart by the most unnatural turn of disobedience to the tenderest and best of fathers.
R.C. Well, I pray God grant you repentance: I did not ask you to exhort a confession; but I asked you because I see you have more knowledge of what is good than your companions.
W.A. O Sir, whenever I look back upon my past life, conscience upbraids me with my father: the sins against our parents make the deepest wounds, and their weight lies the heaviest upon the mind.