He did not fear death—­the mere act of dying, even the thought of annihilation, would not have stirred a ripple of fear in his heart, because, physically, he was bold, reckless, and defiant of personal danger—­but the eternal instincts of his soul, developed by the providence of God, at the eleventh hour, sought their true destiny; they shrunk, with dread, from the scrutiny of Divine Purity, yet longed for immortal life, and immortal progress.  Suddenly the veil had been torn from his eyes; suddenly he felt all the gnawing, hungry needs of his soul; suddenly his weakness, his wanderings, his infirmities, his tacit unbelief and indifference, were revealed, in all their frightful deformity,—­and how?  By a still, calm voice—­the voice of a child, which had rung down the warning into his soul like thunder. “What will it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” it had said; and earth and earthly affairs had assumed the shape of nothingness; the tough, hard work of years was scattered—­like a potent lever it lifted away the demoniac weight of darkness and pride from his soul, as it rung down into its frozen depths.  And the strong angel of God, who had been contending with the powers of evil, to wrest it from eternal loss, bore up the glad news to heaven, that the hoary sinner repented at the eleventh hour; and there was great joy among the angels of His presence, before Him.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE NEW WILL.

Father Fabian came.  Miracles such as this never amazed him.  He knew too well that the Spirit of the Eternal God, which abides with His Church for ever, was as powerful then as it had been in ages past, and that He still condescended to add miracles to the testimony of revelation, to glorify the faith He planted.  With the angels, he only “rejoiced, and was exceeding glad,” giving thanks to God for this new manifestation of His clement love.  Long, and earnest, and touching, was the interview between the priest of God and the dying penitent.  He saw the depths of an old and embittered heart broken up; he heard its plaintive cry, as it floated out towards the dark ocean of death, of, “Save, Lord, or I perish!” and its imploring prayer for the waters of regeneration, and the sacraments of the Church.  All earth had failed him in this his hour of need; and from the deep abyss of his misery he expected no deliverance but through them.  But at last, Peace was whispered, and into his soul was breathed the holy sentence of absolution; and on his hoary head was poured the baptismal stream; his eyes and ears had been opened by divine power; and, like Siloa’s wave, it washed him clean.  What was the leprosy of those men of old, to the corroding infection of SIN, which had for so many weary years diseased and defaced his spirit?  They were healed by a miracle of power,—­he, by a miracle of grace.  Mr. Stillinghast was much exhausted, but calm and humble; he had suddenly become like a little child, so sincere and entire was his repentance.