“What circumstance of my life,” said the captain, with much emphasis, “what circumstance of my life has thus induced me to shut my eyes and heart against truth?” “That I do not know. But I believe if you will go over in your own mind candidly the events of your life, you will confess that, if they have not brought upon you the present fearful visitations, they have at least served to make you argue yourself into infidelity.” “Amelia, what you say may be true—I will think of the matter. It would be curious if I should be brought back to my early belief by one so young and delicate as you.” “My youth and ignorance may be altogether in favor of such a result. You can have little or no pride in a discussion with me, and thus, instead of seeking to sustain an argument for the sake of a triumph, you might be willing to listen to the truths which I utter for the sake of the truth. But you intimated a disposition to review your life, and see whether you cannot find some relation between your past conduct and your present scepticism. And permit me to say that your present situation, though not dangerous perhaps, is one that ought to suggest to you the inquiry, whether the foundation on which you have placed your future condition is safe, and the conversation which we have already had is as much I am sure as the doctor would permit were he here. Sleep will be advantageous to your physical powers. I am confident that calm reflection, and honest retrospection must be profitable to your mind.” “She talks like a parson,” said the captain, as he settled himself for sleep or for thought. More than two hours had elapsed before Amelia could discover that her patient was asleep, though he was perfectly still. At length the heavy, regular breathing denoted that he had succeeded in his effort to sleep, or had failed in his efforts to keep awake. Before Amelia saw the captain again she had visited her mother and made her acquainted with the state of the patient’s mind. Mrs. B. could discover in the remarks of the captain which her daughter repeated to her, little else than the willingness of a sick or lame man to be courteous and civil to a voluntary nurse, and she expressed such an opinion to her daughter. “I think otherwise, mother,” said Amelia, “not so much from the words of the captain as from his tone, his earnestness of expression, and his readiness to return to the conversation whenever other persons leave the room.” “I have not so much confidence, Amelia, in the re-adoption of early religious opinions upon a sick bed; as some persons have. I love the virtue, the piety which extends along from the nursery to the grave, blessing and sanctifying the whole existence, and forming a complete chain of moral life, a religious growth.” “But, dear mother, if that chain has been ruptured by extraordinary violence, is it not best to connect the links? There may be less of continued perfection, but the reproduction of a part is worth the effort.”