“Nay, Nathaniel, there is naught new.  You have been with us before to many a sickbed and seen many a righteous death.  This is an ill man, whose terrors at the reward of his unbelief will be like goodly medicine to your sick soul, and teach you to lay hold on righteousness while there is yet time.”

“But, mother, my Uncle Elzaphan said—­I asked him this morning about Colonel Hall—­that he had done naught but good to all men, that he had fought bravely with French and Indians, that the poor had half of his goods, that—­”

She took him by the hand and dragged him relentlessly out upon the street.  “Your Uncle Elzaphan is a man of no understanding, and does not know that the devil has no more subtile lure than a man who does good works but who is not of the true faith.  Aye, he maketh a worse confusion to the simple than he who worketh iniquity by noonday.”

She led him through the village street, through a long curving lane where he had never been before, and down an avenue of maple-trees to a house at which he had always been forbidden even to look.  Various of the neighbor women were hurrying along in the same direction.  As they filed up the stairs he trembled to hear his father’s voice already raised in the terrible tones of one of his inspired hours.  At the entrance to the sick chamber he clung for a moment to the door, gazing at the wild-eyed women who knelt about the room, their frightened eyes fixed on his father.  His knees shook under him.  He had a qualm of nausea at the slimy images of corruption and decay which the minister was trumpeting forth as the end to all earthly pride.

His mother pushed him inexorably forward into the room, and then, across the nightmare of frenzy, he met the calm gaze of the dying man.  It was the turning-point of his life.

He ran to the bed, falling on his knees, clasping the great knotty hand and searching the eyes which were turned upon him, gently smiling.  The minister, well pleased with this evidence of his son’s emotion, caught his breath for another flight of eloquence which should sear and blast the pretensions of good works as opposed to the true faith.  “See how low the Lord layeth the man who thinks to bargain with the Almighty, and to ransom his soul from hell by deeds which are like dust and ashes to Jehovah.”

Nathaniel crept closer and whispered under cover of his father’s thunderings, “Oh, you are truly not afraid?”

The dying man looked at him, his eyes as steady as when they were in the woods.  “Nay, little comrade, it is all a part of life.”

After that he seemed to sink into partial unconsciousness.  Nathaniel felt his hand grow colder, but he still held it, grasping it more tightly when he felt the fumes of his father’s reeking eloquence mount to his brain.  The women were all sobbing aloud.  A young girl was writhing on the floor, her groans stifled by her mother’s hand.  The air of the room was stifling with hysteria.  The old sister of the dying man called out, “Oh, quick, Master Everett.  He is going.  Exhort him now to give us some token that at the last he repents of his unbelief.”