This implicit reasoning is essentially no more peculiar to evangelical belief than the use of wide phrases for narrow motives is peculiar to Englishmen.  There is no general doctrine which is not capable of eating out our morality if unchecked by the deep-seated habit of direct fellow-feeling with individual fellow-men.

But a man who believes in something else than his own greed, has necessarily a conscience or standard to which he more or less adapts himself.  Bulstrode’s standard had been his serviceableness to God’s cause:  “I am sinful and nought—­a vessel to be consecrated by use—­but use me!”—­had been the mould into which he had constrained his immense need of being something important and predominating.  And now had come a moment in which that mould seemed in danger of being broken and utterly cast away.

What if the acts he had reconciled himself to because they made him a stronger instrument of the divine glory, were to become the pretext of the scoffer, and a darkening of that glory?  If this were to be the ruling of Providence, he was cast out from the temple as one who had brought unclean offerings.

He had long poured out utterances of repentance.  But today a repentance had come which was of a bitterer flavor, and a threatening Providence urged him to a kind of propitiation which was not simply a doctrinal transaction.  The divine tribunal had changed its aspect for him; self-prostration was no longer enough, and he must bring restitution in his hand.  It was really before his God that Bulstrode was about to attempt such restitution as seemed possible:  a great dread had seized his susceptible frame, and the scorching approach of shame wrought in him a new spiritual need.  Night and day, while the resurgent threatening past was making a conscience within him, he was thinking by what means he could recover peace and trust—­ by what sacrifice he could stay the rod.  His belief in these moments of dread was, that if he spontaneously did something right, God would save him from the consequences of wrong-doing.  For religion can only change when the emotions which fill it are changed; and the religion of personal fear remains nearly at the level of the savage.

He had seen Raffles actually going away on the Brassing coach, and this was a temporary relief; it removed the pressure of an immediate dread, but did not put an end to the spiritual conflict and the need to win protection.  At last he came to a difficult resolve, and wrote a letter to Will Ladislaw, begging him to be at the Shrubs that evening for a private interview at nine o’clock.  Will had felt no particular surprise at the request, and connected it with some new notions about the “Pioneer;” but when he was shown into Mr. Bulstrode’s private room, he was struck with the painfully worn look on the banker’s face, and was going to say, “Are you ill?” when, checking himself in that abruptness, he only inquired after Mrs. Bulstrode, and her satisfaction with the picture bought for her.