"I am afraid I'm going to Hell, Sir," says the sick woman with a
whine. "Oh, Sir, save me, save me, don't let me go there. I couldn't
stand it, Sir, I should die with fear, the very thought of it drives
me into a cold sweat all over."
"Mrs. Thompson," says Theobald gravely, "you must have faith in
the precious blood of your Redeemer; it is He alone who can save you."
"But are you sure, Sir," says she, looking wistfully at him, "that
He will forgive me- for I've not been a very good woman, indeed I
haven't- and if God would only say 'Yes' outright with His mouth
when I ask whether my sins are forgiven me-"
"But they are forgiven you, Mrs. Thompson," says Theobald with
some sternness, for the same ground has been gone over a good many
times already, and he has borne the unhappy woman's misgivings now for
a full quarter of an hour. Then he puts a stop to the conversation
by repeating prayers taken from the "Visitation of the Sick," and
overawes the poor wretch from expressing further anxiety as to her
condition.
"Can't you tell me, Sir," she exclaims piteously, as she sees that
he is preparing to go away, "can't you tell me that there is no Day of
Judgement, and that there is no such place as Hell? I can do without
the Heaven, Sir, but I cannot do with the Hell.
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