Leaving the three children to pursue their conversation, we will return to him who was the subject of it. That which had made them scoff had made him reflect,—he could not get rid of those solemn words, “There is One above the heavens who hears the words of your lips, reads the thoughts of your hearts—One who will judge, and can punish!” They reminded him of what he had read in his book, _The soul that sinneth it shall die_; he knew himself to be a sinner, and he trembled. Little dreaming what was passing in the mind of the peasant, Mr. Ewart examined the ruin without noticing him further, and Mark still leant on the gate, a silent, attentive listener. “I think, Charles,” said the tutor, “that I should like to make a sketch of this spot, I have brought my paint-box and drawing block with me, and if I could only procure a little water—” “Please may I bring you some, sir?” said Mark. The offer was accepted, and the boy went off at once, still turning in his mind the conversation that had passed. “‘Pilgrims in the narrow path that leadeth to salvation,’—I wish that I knew what he meant. Is that a path only for holy men like him, or can it be that it is open to me? Salvation! that is safety, safety from punishment, safety from the anger of the terrible God. Oh, what can I do to be saved!” In a few minutes Mark returned with some fresh water which he brought in an old broken jar. He set it down by the spot where Mr. Ewart was seated. “Thanks, my good lad,” said the clergyman, placing a silver piece in his hand. “Good,” repeated Mark to himself; “he little knows to whom he is speaking.” “It would be tedious to you, Charles, to remain beside me while I am sketching,” said Mr. Ewart; “you will enjoy a little rambling about; only return to me in an hour.” “I will explore!” replied the young lord gaily; “there is no saying what curiosities I may find to remind me of the pilgrims of former days.” And now the clergyman sat alone, engaged with his paper and brush, while Mark watched him from a little distance, and communed with his own heart. “He said that he knew the one, only way by which sinners could be accounted righteous—righteous! that must mean good—before a holy God! He knows the way; oh, that he would tell it to me! I have half a mind to go up to him now; it would be a good time when he is all by himself.” Mark made one step forward, then paused. “I dare not, he would think it so strange. He could not understand what I feel. He has never stolen, nor told lies, nor sworn; he would despise a poor sinner like me. And yet,” added the youth with a sigh, “he would hardly sit there, looking so quiet and happy, if he knew how anxious a poor boy is to hear of the way of salvation, which he says that he knows. I will go nearer; perhaps he may speak first.”