"I haven't made any decisions lately," was the reply. "I didn't even decide to come here tonight."
"Ah! But since you are here you are not sorry?"
"No—I guess not."
"And you'll come again?—Will you?"
"I don't know—perhaps I will."
"Duncan, will you, if God permits, meet me here at a quarter before six to-morrow evening? We shall be alone then, and I would like to have a long talk with you. You may bring a friend if you like. Will you come?"
Duncan could not refuse, and gave his promise, which he wanted to take back the next minute. Mr. Earle's sermon that evening was a solemn appeal to the hearts of those who still refused Christ's invitation, and Duncan felt that the truths presented reached him—he saw his guilt and danger—indeed, I am not certain that he had not seen it before—but hitherto he had been quite determined to resist for the present. Now he was not so certain; perhaps it would be better to settle the matter now, if he only could.
It was so awkward to start; he had made a good many remarks about the "revival they were getting up," and it would seem queer to come around now and join in with the rest. He couldn't do it. As yet, his class at the seminary had not been broken into; they all stood out firmly against the call, and he wouldn't be the one to break the ranks. But then he had been to an inquiry meeting. What would they say to that? And he had promised to go again! Then, again, it might be, as Mr. Earle had said, that this was his very last opportunity. He remembered Willy Loring, and thought, what if he had waited for this time! He began to see where he stood, but was unwilling to take the step that would plant him upon the rock.
The next day a spirit of insubordination ran through his class-room, and it was plain from what corner it emanated. Never had Duncan McNair seemed so full of fun and frolic. He was quite determined to forget and make everybody else forget the position into which he had been led. Lessons were failures, ridiculous notes and outrageous caricatures were slyly handed about, causing subdued explosions of laughter. Had Professor Mills had charge of that department, serious trouble must have ensued; but Professor Harris understood the boys better than they understood themselves, and quietly watched and waited. Toward the close of the day's session, Duncan captured a note intended for his neighbour, reading it with a flushed and angry face.
"I must prevent an outbreak there," thought the teacher. "That boy has been in a state of excitement all day, and he won't stand much more."