"Come hither, child," said the old man, turning his feeble eyes towards
her. "I fear--I have--assisted--_encouraged_ you--to forsake your
faith. God--forgive me--for my ignorance and sin. But hear me. I am
dying--hear me testify to the saving and divine truths of that
faith--and repent you--repent ere--it is--too late for ever. It is an
awful thing--girl--to live away--from--the--true fold of Jesus
Christ;--but how horrible--is it--_to forsake it_! Father Fabian--come
closer," he said, feebly, while he placed Helen's hand in that of the
clergyman, "bring--watch her--guide her, until she is saved."

"My poor child! you will not forsake your religion; you dare not peril
your salvation by severing, with sacrilegious hand, the ties which
unite you to JESUS CHRIST, as a member of His glorious body?" asked the
priest, in a tone of blended pity and authority.

"Oh, no, no!" sobbed Helen, quite overcome by the scene. "I am very
young, and love the world. I have never intended to forsake my
religion entirely. I intend, at some early day, to go to confession.
I have only procrastinated."

"Of course, my dear child, you will return to your duty," said Father
Fabian; "you cannot do otherwise, unless you wish to seal deliberately
your eternal perdition."

"You will marry--marry Jerrold," gasped Mr. Stillinghast; "but
do--not--forget--that your prevarications--may ruin his soul--with your
own. Are--you willing--to assume the responsibility?"

"Oh, sir, this is horrible!" exclaimed Helen, falling on her knees
beside the bed.