It was merely a matter of mental excitement: the stronger the attack, the sooner the relapse.

Sam Kimper would lose faith in his fancies sooner or later; it might be somewhat cruel to hasten this result, but what was a little more or less of the life of such a fellow, compared with the lifelong happiness of one of the Bartrams,--the last of the family, and, as the young man fully believed, the best?
Should the cobbler's fall be hastened, Bartram would make it right; indeed, he would volunteer in his defense the first time he should again be arrested for fighting or stealing.
But his plan did not work.

Day after day he had made excuses to drop into the cobbler's shop and worry the ex-convict into a discussion, but not once did he depart without a sense of defeat.

As he said to himself,-- "What can be done with a man who only believes, and won't argue or go to the bottom of things?
It's confoundedly ridiculous." During his last visit, he said,-- "Sam, if the power you profess to believe in can really work such a change as you think He has done in you, He ought to be able to do almost anything else.

Don't you think so ?" "That I do," said the cobbler, working away.
"You believe He has power to any extent, I suppose ?" "You're right again, Mr.Bartram." "Of course you think he loves you dearly ?" "I'm ashamed to think it,--that any such bein' should love a good-for-nothin' feller like me.