discourage them; but upon the present occasion, starting from his gloomy
reverie, he himself was the first to remind the clergyman of his
customary observance. Evil thoughts loomed upon the mind of Marston,
like measureless black mists upon a cold, smooth sea. They rested, grew,
and darkened there; and no heaven-sent breath came silently to steal
them away. Under this dread shadow his mind lay waiting, like the deep,
before the Spirit of God moved upon its waters, passive and awful. Why
for the first time now did religion interest him? The unseen,
intangible, was even now at work within him. A dreadful power shook his
very heart and soul. There was some strange, ghastly wrestling going on
in his own immortal spirit, a struggle that made him faint, which he had
no power to determine. He looked upon the holy influence of the good
man's prayer--a prayer in which he could not join--with a dull,
superstitious hope that the words, inviting better influence, though
uttered by another, and with other objects, would, like a spell, chase
away the foul fiend that was busy with his soul. Marston sate, looking
into the fire, with a countenance of stern gloom, upon which the wayward
lights of the flickering hearth sported fitfully; while at a distant
table Doctor Danvers sate down, and, taking his well-worn Bible from his
pocket, turned over its leaves, and began, in gentle but impressive
tones, to read.

Sir Wynston was much too well bred to evince the slightest disposition to
aught but the most proper and profound attention. The faintest imaginable
gleam of ridicule might, perhaps, have been discerned in his features,
as he leaned back in his chair, and, closing his eyes, composed himself
to at least an attitude of attention. No man could submit with more
cheerfulness to an inevitable bore.

In these things, then, thou hast no concern; the judgment troubles thee