"Think of the Water of Life, try to become worthy of the Well-spring of Grace that alone can cool the torturing flames of eternal damnation. They are ready for you, if you do not use this short time of grace, and rend every earthly thought from your heart! The time that remains to you is brief, and if your soul still clings to the past, it will fall into the abyss already yawning before you!"
A slight red foam appeared on the wounded man's lips, his eyes opened widely, and stared unconsciously around. His out-stretched fingers were stiff, and his whole frame terribly convulsed.
The clergyman bent down closer over him, and in a harsh rough whisper muttered in his ear:
"The pit opens, the sulphurous flames ascend, you hear the lamentations of endless torment, the supplications of the damned that can no longer reach the Ear of Mercy; the light of heaven goes out, and the outcast soul sinks into the dreadful horror, which no living spirit can conceive, no living heart can imagine,--sinks, deeper, deeper,--ever deeper."
A sudden shudder passed through the wounded man's frame, a rattling breath forced itself from his labouring breast, his lips opened and a stream of thick black blood flowed from his mouth. His face grew deadly pale.
The candidate was silent, he rose slowly, his eyes firmly fixed on the face trembling in its death struggle; he drew back his hands and stood with a cruel smile, calm and motionless.
The door of the next room was softly opened and a careful footstep was heard.
The candidate started. With a great effort he compelled his features to resume their usual expression of pious dignity; he folded his hands on his breast, and turned his head towards the door.
Fritz Deyke appeared and cautiously popped in his head.
"Ah! you are here, sir?" he said in a whisper, "I was busy in the stable, but I heard the ladies had gone out, so I thought I would come and look at my lieutenant. Lord God in heaven!" he cried, suddenly rushing to the bed, "what is this? my lieutenant is dying!"