But Mark had not been so lately warned and armed, to make no fight against his Enemy. He had still power to lift up his heart in prayer; to try to recall some precious promise on which to stay his sinking spirit. “_Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end_,” was the word from Scripture with which he now met the Enemy. The Saviour whom he loved was beside him here, the Saviour was witnessing his struggle with sin, would help him, would bless him, if his faith failed not. Oh, better that wretched abode with the presence of his Lord, than the stateliest palace without it! Could he who had been forgiven so much, could he who had been promised so much, faint in the moment of trial! Where should the soldier be but in the battle—what should a pilgrim do but bear his cross!
With thoughts like these poor Mark was struggling for submission, and resisting the suggestions of evil; but the tempter had yet another shaft in his quiver, and tried by arousing another passion to crush down the resistance of piety and conscience. Mark heard a quick step behind him, felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and turning round beheld John Dowley.
“You walk fast,” said the man; “I could hardly overtake you. You were going to the town, were you not? well, I’ve a little job for you to do for me there.”
Mark signified how readily he would do it.
“You see these two bright sovereigns,” said the man, taking two yellow pieces from a heavily filled purse, and putting them into the hand of the boy. “I want these changed—you understand me; buy some trifle at two different shops—mark me, two shops not too near each other; and bring back the change in silver.”
“What trifles do you want?” said Mark, poising the coins upon his finger.
“Anything—gingerbread, or sugar-plums, if you like; only see that the change is right.”
Mark struck the two pieces against one another; he did so again, as if not satisfied with the sound. “Are you sure that these are good?” said he.
“What does that matter to you? put them in your pocket, and do as I bid you.”
“Forgive me,” replied the boy; “but I dare not.”
“Dare not! I did not know that you were such a coward. What are you afraid of—the police?”
“I fear doing wrong; I fear offending my God. Oh, father, I _cannot_ pass that money.”