as very
still, the sky an even gray, snow being prepared. "You saw the laird?"

"Aye. He's verra low."

"He'll not recover I think. It's been a slow failing for two
years--ever since Mrs. Jardine's death."

"She was dead before I came to this kirk. But once, when I was a
young man, I stayed awhile in these parts. I remember her."

"She was the best of women."

"So they said. But she had not that grip upon religion that the laird
has!"

"Maybe not."

Mr. M'Nab directed his glance upon the Glenfernie tutor. He did not
think that this Englishman, either, had much grip upon religion. He
determined, at the first opportunity, to call his attention to that
fact and to strive to teach his fingers how to clasp. He had a craving
thirst for the saving of souls, and to draw one whole from Laodicea
was next best to lifting from Babylon. But to-day the laird and his
spiritual concerns had the field.

"He comes, by the mother's side, at least, of godly stock. His
mother's father was martyred for the faith in the auld persecuting
time. His grandmother wearied her mind away in prison. His mother
suffered much when she was a lassie."

"It's small wonder that he has nursed bitterness," said Strickland.
"He must have drunk in terror and hate with her milk.... He conquered
the terror."

"_'Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee? and am not I grieved
with those that rise up against thee? I hate them with perfect hatred;
I count them my enemies.'_--What else should his heart do but burn
with a righteous wrath?"

Strickland sighed, looking at the quiet gray hills and the vast, still
web of cloud above. "It's come to be a withering fire, hunting fuel
everywhere! I remember when he held it in bounds, even when for a time
it seemed to die out. But of late years it has got the better of him.
At last, I think, it is devouring himself."

M'Nab made a dissenting sound. "He has got the implicit belief in God
that I see sair lack of elsewhere! He holds fast to God."

"Aye. The God who slays the Amalekites."

M'Nab turned his wintry glance upon him. "And is not that God?"

The other looked at the hill and at the vast, quiet, gray field of
cloud. "Perhaps!... Let's talk of something else. I am too tired to
argue. I sat up with him last night."

The minister would have preferred to continue to discuss the character
of Deity. He turned heavily. "I was in company, not long ago, with
some gentlemen who were wondering why you stayed