"Ay: and knows that never in my life did I care for or appeal to Him, till in despair. If you think of it, these are not things a man can do, mother: take refuge with women who would loathe him if they knew; or with God, who does know that only in desperation, only when nothing else is left to him, he calls out that name like a spell. Yes, that is all; like an incantation, to get rid of the fiend." The veins were swollen on Walter's forehead; great drops of moisture hung upon it; on the other hand his lips were parched and dry, his eyes gleaming with a hot treacherous lustre. Mrs. Methven, as she looked at him, grew sick with terror. She began to think that his brain was giving way. "What am I to say to you?" she cried; "who has been speaking so? It cannot be a friend, Walter. That is not the way to bring back a soul." He laughed, and the sound alarmed her still more. "There was no friendship intended," he said, "nor reformation either. It was intended--to make me a slave." "To whom, oh! to whom?" He had relieved his mind by talking thus; but it was by putting his burden upon her. She was agitated beyond measure by these partial confidences. She took his hands in hers, and pleaded with him-- "Oh, Walter, my darling, what has happened to you? Tell me what you mean." "I am not mad, mother, if that is what you think." "I don't think so, Walter. I don't know what to think. Tell me. Oh, my boy, have pity upon me; tell me." "You will do me more good, mother, if you will tell me--how I am to get this burden off, and be a free man." "The burden of--what? Sin? Oh, my son!" she cried, rising to her feet, with tears of joy streaming from her eyes. She put her hands upon his head and bade God bless him. God bless him! "There is no doubt about that; no difficulty about that," she said; "for everything else in the world there may be uncertainty, but for this none. God is more ready to forgive than we are to ask. If you wish it sincerely with all your heart, it is done. He is never far from any of us. He is here, Walter--here, ready to pardon!" He took her hands which she had put upon him, and looked at her, shaking his head. "Mother, you are going too fast," he said. "I want deliverance, it is true; but I don't know if it is _that_ I mean." "That is at the bottom of all, Walter." He put her softly into her chair, and calmed her agitation; then he began to walk up and down the room. "That is religion," he said. "I suppose it is at the bottom of all. What was it you used to teach me, mother, about a new heart? Can a man enter a second time--and be born? That seems all so visionary when one is living one's life. You think of hundreds of expedients first. To thrust it away from you, and forget all about it; but that does not answer; to defy it and go the other way out of misery and spite. Then to try compromises; marriage, for instance, with a wife perhaps, one thinks----"