her fingers
on the book and for the first time looking the doctor straight in the
face,--"will it give me that helmet of salvation, of which I have
heard?"

"Hey? what is that?" said the doctor.

"I have heard--and read--of the Christian 'helmet of salvation.' I have
seen that a person whose brows are covered by it, goes along fearless,
hopeful, and happy, dreading nothing in this life or the next.--Will
being confirmed, put this helmet upon my head?--make me fearless and
happy too?"

"My dear Miss Eleanor, I cannot express how you astonish me. I always
have thought you were one of the strongest-hearted persons I knew; and
in your circumstances I am sure it was natural--But to your question.
The benefit of confirmation, my dear young lady, as well as of every
other ordinance of the Church, depends of course on the manner and
spirit with which we engage in it. There is confirming and
strengthening grace in it undoubtedly for all who come to the ordinance
in humble obedience, with prayer and faith, and who truly take upon
them their vows."

"But, Dr. Cairnes, I might die before I could be confirmed; and I want
rest and security now. I do not have it, day nor night. I have not,
ever since the time when I was so ill last summer. I want it _now_."

"My dear Miss Eleanor, the only way to obtain security and rest, is in
doing one's duty. Do your duty now, and it will come. Your conscience
has taken up the matter, and will have satisfaction. Give it
satisfaction, and rest will come."

"How can I give it satisfaction?" said Eleanor sitting up and looking
at the doctor. "I feel myself guilty--I know myself exposed to ruin, to
death that means death; what can I give to my conscience, to make it be
still?"

"The Church offers absolution for their sins to all that are truly
sorry for them," said the doctor. "Are you penitent on account of your
sins, Miss Eleanor?"

"Penitent?--I don't know," said Eleanor drooping a little from her
upright position. "I feel them, and know them, and wish them away; but
if I were penitent, they would be gone, wouldn't they? and they are not
gone."

"I see how it is," said the doctor. "You have too much leisure to
think, and your thoughts are turning in upon themselves and becoming
morbid. I think this is undue sensitiveness, my dear Miss Eleanor. The
sins we wish away, will never be made a subject of judgment against us.
I shall tell my friend Mr. Carlisle that his presence is wanted here