But I knew I'd done a mean and
sinful thing. I couldn't drive it out of my thoughts. A few
days afterwards I went down to Mrs. Rachel's and give her ten
good dollars for the fund. I told her I had come to the
conclusion I ought to give more than ten dollars, out of my
abundance, to the Lord. That was a lie. Mrs. Lynde thought I
was a generous man, and I felt ashamed to look her in the face.
But I'd done what I could to right the wrong, and I thought it
would be all right. But it wasn't. I've never known a minute's
peace of mind or conscience since. I tried to cheat the Lord,
and then tried to patch it up by doing something that redounded
to my worldly credit. When these meetings begun, and everybody
expected me to testify, I couldn't do it. It would have seemed
like blasphemy. And I couldn't endure the thought of telling
what I'd done, either. I argued it all out a thousand times that
I hadn't done any real harm after all, but it was no use. I've
been so wrapped up in my own brooding and misery that I didn't
realize I was inflicting suffering on those dear to me by my
conduct, and, maybe, holding some of them back from the paths of
salvation. But my eyes have been opened to this to-night, and
the Lord has given me strength to confess my sin and glorify His
holy name."
The broken tones ceased, and David Bell sat down, wiping the
great drops of perspiration from his brow.
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