He drank the whole in haste; and, on giving back the cup, said, "It would afford me some relief if I could hope to find a spring of water in hell. But, no; not one drop there to cool my parched tongue!"
"O, George, do not put from you the words of peace."
"The words of peace, to my soul, are like the dragon's sting or the viper's bite; and the voice of mercy sounds more awful in my ears than the footsteps of vengeance. I know my doom; and if you wish me to have a moment's calm while the respite lasts, talk of earth, of its joys, or of its sorrows; but bring me not near the spot where Mercy died for man."
The fever, which had remained stationary for several days, now raged with uncontrolled violence, without impairing the vigour or acuteness of his intellect, and all expected that a few hours would terminate his mortal career. His mother hung over him, breathing the purest and most ardent affection; but she was not permitted to instil the consolations of religion, and that at length so overpowered her feelings that she was obliged to retire, leaving her only son the victim of despair. His eye followed her as she left the room; and when the door closed, he burst into a flood of tears, exclaiming, "The doom that awaits me would be less terrible, if I could have concealed it from my mother. I have destroyed myself, and plunged the fatal dagger into her breast. O, thou holy, thou righteous God, thou art clear when thou judgest, and just when thou condemnest! Have pity on my dear mother, and support her soul under this awful visitation of thy vengeance!"
He now became more composed; but on hearing the clock strike eleven, he started up in bed, asked for a large draught of cold water, and expressed an ardent wish to see his mother once more, as he was apprehensive that life was just on the eve of departing. A female attendant went to call her, but she was asleep; and on returning, she asked if she should awake her. After a long pause, he said, "No; let her sleep on, and take her rest, and I will die alone, and spare her the agony of hearing the last tremendous groan, which is to announce my entrance into hell." He then requested that another pillow might be placed under his head; and turning himself on his left side, he laid himself down to expire. In about a quarter of an hour the nurse, who was standing by his side, gently whispered, "I think he is gone;" but on feeling his pulse, she soon ascertained that he was in a profound sleep. He slept for several hours, during which time the fever very much abated, and when he awoke he said, with a firm tone, "I now think I shall recover."
"Yes, my child," replied Mrs. Lewellin, "the Lord has heard my prayers, and answered them, by sparing your life; and I have no doubt but he will answer them further by making this affliction the means of bringing you to repentance, and the enjoyment of fellowship with him."
This appropriate remark made a deep impression; he looked at his mother, but said nothing. His recovery was as rapid as his relapse had been dangerous; and though his strength was greatly impaired, yet he was able to leave his room in the early part of the ensuing week. Being now rescued from the brink of death, and animated with the hope of returning health, as he sat alone musing over the awful scene through which he had so recently passed, he laid his hand on a hymn-book, which was placed on the table, and read the following hymn with intense interest:—
"When with my mind devoutly press'd,
Dear Saviour, my revolving breast
Would past offences trace;
Trembling I make the black review,
Yet pleased behold, admiring too,
The pow'r of changing grace.
"This tongue with blasphemies defil'd,
These feet in erring paths beguil'd,
In heavenly league agree.
Who could believe such lips could praise,
Or think my dark and winding ways
Should ever lead to thee?