ried on my clothes, but by the
time I came to kneel at my bedside, God was away. I could not speak a
word to Him! I had lost all the trouble that kept me crying after Him
like a little child at his mother's heels, the bond was broken and He
was out of sight. I tried to be thankful, but my heart was so full of
the money, it lay like a stuffed bag. But I dared not go even to my
study till I had prayed. I tramped up and down this little room,
thinking more about paying my butcher's bill than any thing else. I
would give him a silver snuff-box; but as to God and His goodness my
heart felt like a stone; I _could not_ lift it up. All at once I saw how
it was: He had heard my prayers in anger! Mr. Wingfold, the Lord has
sent me this money as He sent the quails to the Israelites: while it was
yet, as it were, between my teeth, He smote me with hardness of heart. O
my God! how shall I live in the world with a hundred thousand pounds
instead of my Father in heaven! If it were only that He had hidden His
face, I should be able to pray somehow! He has given me over to the
Mammon I was worshiping! Hypocrite that I am! how often have I not
pointed out to my people, while yet I dwelt in the land of Goshen, that
to fear poverty was the same thing as to love money, for that both came
of lack of faith in the living God! Therefore has He taken from me the
light of His countenance, which yet, Mr. Wingfold, with all my sins and
shortcomings, yea, and my hypocrisy, is the all in all to me!"

He looked the curate in the face with such wild eyes as convinced him
that, even if perfectly sane at present, he was in no small danger of
losing his reason.

"Then you would willingly give up this large fortune," he said, "and
return to your former condition?"

"Rather than not be able to pray--I would! I would!" he cried; then
paused and added, "--if only He would give me enough to pay my debts and
not have to beg of other people."

Then, with a tone suddenly changed to one of agonized effort, with
clenched hands, and eyes shut tight, he cried vehemently, as if in the
face of a lingering unwillingness to encounter again the miseries
through which he had been passing.

"No, no, Lord! Forgive me. I will not think of conditions. Thy will be
done! Take the money and let me be a debtor and a beggar if Thou wilt,
only let me pray to Thee; and do Thou make it up to my creditors."

Wingfold's spirit was greatly moved. Here was victory! Whether the
fort