be accounted for by such events as
those of which he had spoken.

I had, too, an uneasy feeling, which grew upon me the more I saw of him,
that while he spoke freely enough on certain topics, and obviously meant
to give a complete history of his past life, there was in reality
something in the background which he always kept from my view. He was,
it seemed, like a young man asked by an indulgent father to disclose
his debts in order that they may be discharged, who, although he knows
his parent's leniency, and that any debt not now disclosed will be
afterwards but a weight upon his own neck, yet hesitates for very shame
to tell the full amount, and keeps some items back. So poor Sir John
kept something back from me his friend, whose only aim was to afford him
consolation and relief, and whose compassion would have made me listen
without rebuke to the narration of the blackest crimes. I cannot say how
much this conviction grieved me. I would most willingly have given my
all, my very life, to save my friend and Miss Maltravers's brother; but
my efforts were paralysed by the feeling that I did not know what I had
to combat, that some evil influence was at work on him which continually
evaded my grasp. Once or twice it seemed as though he were within an
ace of telling me all; once or twice, I believe, he had definitely made
up his mind to do so; but then the mood changed, or more probably his
courage failed him.

It was on one of these occasions that he asked me, somewhat suddenly,
whether I thought that a man could by any conscious act committed in the
flesh take away from himself all possibility of repentance and ultimate
salvation. Though, I trust, a sincere Christian, I am nothing of a
theologian, and the question touching on a topic which had not occurred
to my mind since childhood, and which seemed to savour rather of
medieval romance than of practical religion, took me for a moment aback.
I hesitated for an instant, and then replied that the means of salvation
offered man were undoubtedly so sufficient as to remove from one truly
penitent the guilt of any crime however dark. My hesitation had been but
momentary; but Sir John seemed to have noticed it, and sealed his lips
to any confession, if he had indeed intended to make any, by changing
the subject abruptly. This question naturally gave me food for serious
reflection and anxiety. It was the first occasion on which he appeared
to me to be undoubtedly suffering fro