"Oh! Mr. Cartwright! Do you really think it possible that I can be useful in such a blessed way?"
"I am sure you may, my dear Fanny; and you know this will be the means of doing good both to the souls and bodies of the saints. For what you shall write, will not only be read to the edification and salvation of many Christian souls, but will be printed and sold for the benefit either of the poor and needy, or for the furthering such works and undertakings as it may be deemed most fit to patronise and assist."
"Oh! Mr. Cartwright! If I could be useful in such a way as that, I should be very thankful;—only—I have a doubt."
Here the bright countenance of Fanny became suddenly overclouded; she even trembled, and turned pale.
"What is it, my dear child, that affects you thus?" said the vicar with real surprise; "tell me, my sweet Fanny, what I have said to alarm you?"
"If I do this," said Fanny, her voice faltering with timidity, "shall I not seem to be trusting to works?"
"Do you mean, because the writings of authors are called their works?" said Mr. Cartwright very gravely.
"No! Mr. Cartwright!" she replied, colouring from the feeling, that if so good and holy a man could quiz, she should imagine that he was now quizzing her,—"No! Mr. Cartwright!—but if I do this, and trust to get saving grace as a reward for the good I may do, will not this be trusting to works?"
"My dear child," he said; gently kissing her forehead, "such tenderness of conscience is the best assurance that what you will do will be done in a right spirit. Then fear not, dear Fanny, that those things which prove a snare to the unbeliever should, in like manner, prove a snare to the elect."
Again Fanny Mowbray trembled. "Alas! then I may still risk the danger of eternal fire by this thing,—for am I of the elect?"