He wished me to rewrite it, to cast the characters anew, enliven the
style, add variety to the incidents, and, in short, make a new work out
of his materials. Still it was to be a novel; and as it had been
originally published in his name, it was to be so now. My share in the
work would never be known; and as he was abundantly wealthy, and equally
generous, a _carte blanche_ as to terms was before me.
On the former occasion I had paused, and thought much: on this I did
not. The path was plain before me, but dreadfully painful to pursue. A
hundred pounds just then would have been more to me than a thousand at
another time; and private feeling was most distressingly involved, both
as regarded myself and others. It was in an agony of prayer, and after
many bitter tears, that I brought myself to do what, nevertheless, I had
not a wish to leave undone. I wrote a faithful letter to the friend in
question, most unequivocally stating the ground of my refusal--the
responsibility under which I conceived we all lay before God for the
application of talents committed by him; the evils of novel-reading;
and, as far as I could, I declared the whole gospel of Christ to one
whom I had no reason to consider as taking any thought whatever for his
soul. I heard no more from him to the day of his death, which took place
ten years after. I had reason to believe that his intentions towards me
were very liberal in the final distribution of his property; for he had
known and loved me from my cradle, and he had no family; but my
conscience bore a happy testimony in the matter; and I am fully
persuaded that the whole was a snare of Satan to betray me into an
acceptance of unhallowed gains, by catering to the worldly tastes of
those who forget God.
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