consider that too soon; is there anything about dates in the order of
procedure for heresy?" and Carmichael made as though he would go over
to the shelves for a law book.

"John," cried the Rabbi--his voice full of tears--rising and following
the foolish lad, "is this all you have in your heart to say unto me?
Surely, as I stand before you, it is not my desire to do such a thing,
for I would rather cut off my right hand.

"God hath not been pleased to give me many friends, and He only knows
how you and the others have comforted my heart. I lie not, John, but
speak the truth, that there is nothing unto life itself I would not
give for your good, who have been as the apple of my eye unto me."

Carmichael hardened himself, torn between a savage sense of
satisfaction that the Rabbi was suffering for his foolishness and the
inclination of his better self to respond to the old man's love.

"If there be a breach between us, it will not be for you as it must be
for me. You have many friends, and may God add unto them good men and
faithful, but I shall lose my one earthly joy and consolation when your
feet are no longer heard on my threshold and your face no longer brings
light to my room. And, John, even this thing which I am constrained to
do is yet of love, as . . . you shall confess one day."

Carmichael's pride alone resisted, and it was melting fast. Had he
even looked at the dear face he must have given way, but he kept his
shoulder to the Rabbi, and at that moment the sound of wheels passing
the corner of the manse gave him an ungracious way of escape.

"That is Burnbrae's dogcart . . . Dr. Saunderson, and I think he will
not wish to keep his horse standing in the snow, so unless you will
stay all night, as it's going to drift. . . . Then perhaps it would be
better. . . . Can I assist you in packing?" How formal it all
sounded; and he allowed the Rabbi to go upstairs alone, with the result
that various things of the old man's are in Carmichael's house unto
this day.

Another chance was given the lad when the Rabbi would have bidden him
good-bye at the door, beseeching that he should not come out into the
drift, and still another when Burnbrae, being concerned about his
passenger's appearance, who seemed ill-fitted to face a storm, wrapt
him in a plaid; and he had one more when the old man leant out of the
dogcart and took Carmichael's hand in both of his, but only said, "God
bless you for all you've been