"I will not hear of works," said Spikeman. "Moreover, whom he did predestinate—them"—a sudden pang prevented the conclusion of the sentence, but it was finished by Mr. Eliot.
"He also called; and whom he called, them he also justified; and whom he justified, them he also glorified."
A silence followed, which was interrupted only by the sobs of Dame Spikeman, until the wounded man inquired:
"How long shall I live?"
"It may be two hours; it may be only one," answered the physician.
"A short time." murmured the Assistant, "My soul doth travail with anguish," he said, fixing his burning eyes on Mr. Eliot.
"O, my brother!" exclaimed the divine, "the precious blood of Christ cleanseth from all sins, though they be as crimson. Faint not now, when thou art about to cross the river of Jordan, but think upon thy Redeemer."
"I strive," said Spikeman, "but there are thoughts which—which rise up, as a mist, between me and him."
"O, cleanse thy bosom of this perilous stuff," said Winthrop. "If there be a sin which persecutes thee, confess it and repent."
"Is that the voice of the Governor?" asked Spikeman, who seemed to have forgotten his entrance. "Repentance! Repentance! it is too late."