There,
with deep and wild emotion, and many interruptions of passionate
silence, Eric told to Montagu his miserable tale. "I am the most
wretched fellow living," he said; "there must be some fiend that hates
me, and drives me to ruin. But let it all come; I care nothing, nothing,
what happens to me now. Only, dear, dear Monty, forgive me, and love
me still."
"O Eric, it is not for one like me to talk of forgiveness; you were
sorely tempted. Yet God will forgive you if you ask him. Won't you pray
to him to-night? I love you, Eric, still, with all my heart, and do you
think God can be less kind than man? And _I_, too, will pray for you,
Eric. Good night, and God bless you" He gently disengaged himself--for
Eric clung to him, and seemed unwilling to lose sight of him--and a
moment after he was gone.
Eric felt terribly alone. He knelt down and tried to pray, but somehow
it didn't seem as if the prayer came from his heart, and his thoughts
began instantly to wander far away. Still he knelt--knelt even until his
candle had gone out, and he had nearly fallen asleep, thought-wearied,
on his knees.
Pages:
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443