“Your fire, nephew,” he said, as he trimmed it, “very much resembles yourself. There is no lack of the right material, but it wants just a little stirring, and is useless for want of it. It is no time, Dallas, to be loitering away life when a bright prospect of honourable ambition and extensive usefulness is opening full before you. Wot you not that our neighbour the bishop, now a worn-out old man, has been confined to his room for the last week? And should my cousin of Tarbat and myself agree in recommending a successor, as we unquestionably shall, where think you lies the influence powerful enough to thwart us? But a diocese so important, nephew, can be the prize of no indolent dreamer.” “Uncle,” said Dallas, in a tone of deep melancholy, “do you believe that those who have been once awakened to the truth may yet fall away and perish?” “Why perplex yourself with such questions?” replied his uncle. “We are creatures intended for both this world and the next; each demands that certain duties be performed; and of all men, woe to him of a musing and speculative turn, who, though not devoid of a sense of duty, fails in the requirements of the present state. His thoughts become fiends to torment him. But up, nephew, and act, and you will find that all will be well.” “Act! How?--to what purpose?--how read you the text--‘It is impossible for those who were once enlightened, if they fall away, to renew them to repentance?’ I have fallen--fallen for ever.” “Dallas,” said Sir John, “what wild thought has now possessed you?--You are but one of many thousands;--I know not a more hopeful clergyman of your standing connected with the Church.” “Wretched, wretched Church, if it be so! But what are her ministers? Trees twice dead, plucked up by the roots--wandering stars, for whom is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever. Yes, I am as hopeful as most of her ministers. Mary Anderson told me what was coming; and, hypocrite that I am! I believed her, and yet denied that I did. I saw her last night;--she was beautiful as ever--but ah! there was no love, no pity in her eye--and the wide, wide gulf was between us.” “Dearest nephew, why talk so wildly?” exclaimed Sir John. “Uncle, you have ever been kind to me,” replied Dallas; “but you have ruined--no, wretched creature! ’twas I, myself, who have ruined my soul; and there is neither love nor gratitude in the place to which I am going. O leave me to myself! my thoughts become more fearful when I embody them in words;--leave me to myself! and, uncle, while there is yet space, seek after that repentance which is denied to me. Avoid the unpardonable sin.”