“Yes,” interrupted Danvers, earnestly, and hastening to avoid a sneer upon this subject; “God be blessed, I am an humble follower of his gracious Son, our Redeemer; and though, I trust, I should bear with patient submission whatever chastisement in his wisdom and goodness he might see fit to inflict upon me, yet I do praise and bless him for the mercy which has hitherto spared me, and I do feel that mercy all the more profoundly, from the afflictions and troubles with which I daily see others overtaken.”

“And in the matter of piety and decorum, doubtless, you bless God also,” said Marston, sarcastically, “that you are not as other men are, nor even as this publican.”

“Nay, Mr. Marston; God forbid I should harden my sinful heart with the wicked pride of the Pharisee.  Evil and corrupt am I already over much.  Too well I know the vileness of my heart, to make myself righteous in my own eyes,” replied Dr. Danvers, humbly.  “But, sinner as I am, I am yet a messenger of God, whose mission is one of authority to his fellow-sinners; and woe is me if I speak not the truth at all seasons, and in all places where my words may be profitably heard.”

“Well, Doctor Danvers, it seems you think it your duty to speak to me, of course, respecting my conduct and my spiritual state.  I shall save you the pain and trouble of opening the subject; I shall state the case for you in two words,” said Marston, almost fiercely.  “I have put away my wife without just cause, and am living in sin with another woman.  Come, what have you to say on this theme?  Speak out.  Deal with me as roughly as you will, I will hear it, and answer you again.”

“Alas, Mr. Marston!  And do not these things trouble you?” exclaimed Dr. Danvers, earnestly.  “Do they not weigh heavy upon your conscience?  Ah, sir, do you not remember that, slowly and surely, you are drawing towards the hour of death, and the Day of Judgment?”

“The hour or death!  Yes, I know it is coming, and I await it with indifference.  But, for the Day of Judgment, with its books and trumpets!  My dear doctor, pray don’t expect to frighten me with that.”

Marston spoke with an angry scorn, which had the effect of interrupting the conversation for some moments.

They rode on, side by side, for a long time, without speaking.  At length, however, Marston unexpectedly broke the silence—­

“Doctor Danvers,” said he, “you asked me some time ago if I feared the hour of death, and the Day of Judgment.  I answered you truly, I do not fear them; nay death, I think, I could meet with a happier and a quieter heart than any other chance that can befall me; but there are other fears; fears that do trouble me much.”

Doctor Danvers looked inquiringly at him; but neither spoke for a time.

“You have not seen the catastrophe of the tragedy yet,” said Marston, with a stern, stony look, made more horrible by a forced smile and something like a shudder.  “I wish I could tell you—­you, Doctor Danvers—­for you are honorable and gentle-hearted.  I wish I durst tell you what I fear; the only, only thing I really do fear.  No mortal knows it but myself, and I see it coming upon me with slow, but unconquerable power.  Oh, God—­dreadful Spirit—­spare me!”