The sun seemed to withhold its light and warmth
from him. His body, though cast in a sturdy mould, and though still in
the highest vigor of youth, trembled whole days together with the fear
of death and judgment. He fancied that this trembling was the sign set
on the worst reprobates, the sign which God had put on Cain. The unhappy
man's emotion destroyed his power of digestion. He had such pains that
he expected to burst asunder like Judas, whom he regarded as his
prototype.
Neither the books which Bunyan read nor the advisers whom he consulted
were likely to do much good in a case like his. His small library had
received a most unseasonable addition--the account of the lamentable end
of Francis Spira. One ancient man of high repute for piety, whom the
sufferer consulted gave an opinion which might well have produced fatal
consequences. "I am afraid," said Bunyan, "that I have committed the sin
against the Holy Ghost." "Indeed," said the old fanatic, "I am afraid
that you have."
At length the clouds broke; the light became clearer and clearer, and
the enthusiast, who had imagined that he was branded with the mark of
the first murderer, and destined to the end of the arch-traitor, enjoyed
peace and a cheerful confidence in the mercy of God. Years elapsed,
however, before his nerves, which had been so perilously overstrained,
recovered their tone. When he had joined a Baptist society at Bedford,
and was for the first time admitted to partake of the Eucharist, it was
with difficulty that he could refrain from imprecating destruction on
his brethren while the cup was passing from hand to hand.
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