Those around the couch looked at one another with dismay.
"Our dear brother," said Mr. Eliot, "of what specially wouldst thou repent? Believe me—it is never too late to trust God's mercies. Think of the penitent thief upon the Cross."
"Do you dare to call me a thief?" said Spikeman, hoarsely. "Ah!" he added, "how I talk! These are strange feelings. What I have to do must be done quickly. Call Eveline Dunning."
"Who is in the room?" he inquired, after the young lady had entered.
The names of those present were enumerated. "Let them remain," he said. "They are of the congregation, but I would not that the world should know my shame. Look not thus at me," he exclaimed, as soon as he saw Eveline. "Thy face is like thy father's, the friend whom I wronged. Be nigh to hear, but let me not see thee. Eveline, the property which should be thine, I have misapplied, and it has melted from my grasp. It was that my misdeed might not be discovered that I denied thee to Miles Arundel, though thy father wished the nuptials. Yet, Eveline, marry him not; he is of the corrupt Church of England."
These words he uttered with many interruptions of pain, resuming when the paroxysm passed away.
"Would you see Miles?" inquired the weeping girl.
"To what end? I care not for him. He is not of the congregation. Go now. I have done."
"My spirit is lightened," he said, as she left the room. "Edmund Dunning," he added, as his mind temporarily wandered, "why do you fasten your accusing eyes on me? I have made all the reparation that I can. What more?"
"Alas!" said Mr. Eliot, aside, to Governor Winthrop, "who would have thought this of one so zealous for our Israel?"