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screws!' said Attwater. 'Please God, I will bring a penitent this
night before His throne. Come, come to the mercy-seat! He waits to be
gracious, man--waits to be gracious!'
He spread out his arms like a crucifix, his face shone with the
brightness of a seraph's; in his voice, as it rose to the last word, the
tears seemed ready.
Herrick made a vigorous call upon himself. 'Attwater,' he said, 'you
push me beyond bearing. What am I to do? I do not believe. It is living
truth to you; to me, upon my conscience, only folk-lore. I do not
believe there is any form of words under heaven by which I can lift the
burthen from my shoulders. I must stagger on to the end with the pack of
my responsibility; I cannot shift it; do you suppose I would not, if I
thought I could? I cannot--cannot--cannot--and let that suffice.'
The rapture was all gone from Artwater's countenance; the dark apostle
had disappeared; and in his place there stood an easy, sneering
gentleman, who took off his hat and bowed. It was pertly done, and the
blood burned in Herrick's face.
'What do you mean by that?' he cried.
'Well, shall we go back to the house?' said Attwater. 'Our guests will
soon be due.'
Herrick stood his ground a moment with clenched fists and teeth; and as
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