"The greater the necessity, Mr. Monday, of turning our thoughts towards that divine mediation which alone can avail us, while there is yet opportunity."
But Mr. Monday was startled by the near approach of death, rather than repentant. He had indurated his feelings by the long and continued practice of a deadening self-indulgence, and he was now like a man who unexpectedly finds himself in the presence of an imminent and overwhelming danger, without any visible means of mitigation or escape. He groaned and looked around him, as if he sought something to cling to, the spirit he had shown in the pride of his strength availing nothing. All these, however, were but passing emotions, and the natural obtusity of the man returned.
"I do not think, sir," he said, gazing intently at John Effingham, "that I have been a very great sinner."
"I hope not, my good friend; yet none of us are so free from spot as not to require the aid of God to fit us for his holy presence."
"Very true, sir--very true, sir. I was duly baptized and properly confirmed."
"Offices which are but pledges that we are expected to redeem."
"By a regular priest and bishop, sir;--orthodox and dignified clergymen!"
"No doubt: England wants none of the forms of religion. But the contrite heart, Mr. Monday, will be sure to meet with mercy."
"I feel contrite, sir; very contrite."
A pause of half an hour succeeded, and John Effingham thought at first that his patient had again slumbered; but, looking more closely at his situation, he perceived that his eyes often opened and wandered over objects near him. Unwilling to disturb this apparent tranquillity, the minutes were permitted to pass away uninterrupted, until Mr. Monday spoke again of his own accord.