“Elizabeth,” said the parson, firmly, “repent!”
“What you done with my Judith?”
“Repent!”
Elizabeth’s heart began to work beyond its strength. “For God’s sake, parson!” she gasped; “you’ll not hurt she, will you?”
“Repent, I say!”
“I’ll repent, parson. What you goin’ t’ do with Judy? Don’t hurt she, parson. I’ll repent. Oh, bring she back, parson! I’ll repent. For God’s sake, parson!” It may be that despair gave her cunning––I do not know. The deception was not beyond her: she had been converted twice––she was used to the forms as practised in those days at Twist Tickle. She wanted her child, poor woman! and her mind was clouded with fear: she is not to be called evil for the trick. Nor is Parson Lute to be blamed for following earnestly all that she said––praying, all the while, that the issue might be her salvation. She had a calculating eye on the face of Parson Lute. “I believe!” she cried, watching him closely for some sign of relenting. “Help thou my unbelief.” The parson’s face softened. “Save me!” she whispered, exhausted. “Save my soul! I repent. Save my soul!” She seemed now to summon all her strength, for the parson had not yet called back the child. “Praise God!” she screamed, seeking now beyond 168 doubt to persuade him of her salvation. “I repent! I’m saved! I’m saved!”
“Praise God!” Parson Lute shouted.
Elizabeth swayed––threw up her hands––fell back dead.
“I tol’ you so,” said Aunt Esther, grimly.