"I should be happy if I could put such a favourable construction on his manner; but I fear not."
"Our favourite poet says:—
'Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread,
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.'
Allow me, my dear friend, to offer you my congratulations. Your prayers, I hope, are answered; and you may go home, and embrace your father as a 'fellow-heir of the grace of life.'"
"If I could, the sun of my bliss would never go down; but, alas! I fear that you congratulate me on what we wish to be true, rather than on what actually is the case."
"My dear, I speak what I believe."
"Impossible! Has he made any particular communication to you, which enables you to speak in such a decisive tone?—if so, tell me, my dear friend, what you know. I am impatient to hear it."
"The evening before Josiah's cottage was consumed, your father spent some hours with us, and seemed not only willing, but anxious to converse on religious subjects. At one time, he was affected almost to tears, when he said, 'My dear Sophia has often told me that a Divine illumination of mind is the great secret in personal religion; and on one occasion, when she quoted the words of the apostle, "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned," she made an impression on my mind which has never left me.' Thus God has not only subdued the prejudices of your father's heart against the truth, and opened the eyes of his understanding to see its excellence and importance, but has employed you as the agent in the accomplishment of this great work."
After recovering herself from the surprise which this communication produced, she said, "I feel as if enjoying a most pleasant dream—my fancy beguiled and deluded by its own visionary conceptions—not less surprised than delighted to find myself awake—with you—listening to the most joyful news that could be conveyed to my soul." She wept. "And is it possible?—Is it true?—What, my father!—Excuse me; I must go, that I may hear these glad tidings from his own lips."
On the following Sabbath Mrs. Stevens was so far recovered as to be able to go to church, where she expected to see the Roscoes; but she was disappointed. "I fear," she remarked to her husband, as they were returning home, "that Mr. Roscoe will not become a decided character; but I hope he will not neutralize our dear Sophia."