a more suitable husband."
"Girls like handsome, well-made men, Ian, men like yourself. Allan Reid is not handsome; indeed, he is very unhandsome. Marion spoke to me of his long neck and weak eyes, and – "
"Girls are perfectly silly on that subject. A good man, and a rich man, is as much as a girl ought to expect."
"Men are perfectly silly on the same subject. A good woman with a heart full of love is as much, and more than, any man ought to expect. But, before he thinks of these things, he is particularly anxious that she should be beautiful, and graceful, and money in her purse makes her still more desirable."
"A man naturally wants a handsome mother for his children."
"Girls are just as foolish. They want a handsome father for their children. I think, Ian, you might as well give up all hopes of Marion's marrying Allan Reid. She believes him to be as mean-hearted as he is physically unhandsome. She will never accept him."
"I shall insist on this marriage. Say all you can in young Reid's favor."
"Preach for your own saint, Ian. I have nothing to say in Allan Reid's favor."
"Then say nothing in favor of Lord Cramer."
"What I have seen of Lord Cramer I like. Do you want me to speak ill of him?"
"I have told you what he has been."
"His father's death has put him in a responsible position. That of itself often sobers and changes young men. Ian Macrae, leave your daughter's affairs alone. She will manage them better than you can. And what are you going to do about Donald?"
"Donald is doing well enough."
"He is not. I am afraid every mail that comes will tell us that he has taken the Queen's shilling, or gone before the mast."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Ask Donald what he wants, and give him his desire – whatever it is."
"There is not a good father in Scotland that would do the like of that, Jessy."
"Then be a bad father and do it. I am sure you may risk the consequences."
"These children are a great anxiety to me. Something is wrong if they will not listen to their father. I am very much worried, Jessy. I will go and unpack those books and then read awhile."
"Listen to me, Ian. You say that now you have perfect Faith. When you have gone through those books, your Faith will be in rags and tatters."
"I do not fear. There is no danger but in our own cowardice. We are ourselves the rocks of our own doubt. The danger lies in fearing danger. I made a promise to the dead. I cannot break it, Jessy. Such a promise is a finality."
"You made that promise by the special instigation of the devil, Ian."
"Jessy, you never read these books. The men who wrote them were morally good men, seekers after truth and righteousness. I believe so much of them."
"You are partly right. I have never read the books, but I have read long, elaborate, wearisome reviews of them. That was enough, and more than enough, for me."
"Why did you read such reviews?"
"Because I wanted to know whether Donald and Marion should be warned against them. I think they ought to be warned."
"You can leave that duty to me. If I think it necessary, they will receive the proper instruction."
"I wonder the government allows such books to be published. They will ruin the coming generations. The Romans had not much of a religion, but when they began to doubt it they went madly into vice and atheism and national ruin. If men have such wicked thoughts as are in the books you are going to read, they ought to keep them in their own hearts. If they could not do that, I would put them in prison, and take pen and ink from them."
"Do be more charitable, Jessy. The Bible teaches – "
"It teaches us to let such destructive books alone. God himself specially warned the Israelites not even 'to make inquiry' about the religion of the Canaanites; they did it, of course, and you know the result as well as I do. And men these days are so set up with their long dominion and the varieties of strange knowledge they have accepted that they do not require any Eve to pull this apple of disobedience and doubt of God. They manage it themselves."
"Jessy Caird, you have no right to impute evil to either men or books that are only known to you through some critic's opinion." Then he rose and, standing with uplifted eyes, said with singular emotion:
"'O God, that men would see a little clearer!
Or judge less harshly where they cannot see.
O God, that men would draw a little nearer
To one another! They'd be nearer Thee!'"
With these words he left Jessy and went to the room where the fateful books were waiting for him.
And Jessy could say no more. But she threw her knitting out of her hands and let them drop hopelessly into her lap.
"When men stop reasoning, they quote poetry," she mused angrily. "I never heard Ian quote a whole verse before, unless he was in the pulpit; well, I have warned him, and now I can only hope he will feel that sense of utter desolation in his soul that I always felt after a few sentences of Schopenhauer or Darwin. There! I hear him opening the box. Now begin the to-and-fro paths of Doubt and Persuasion, days full of anxious brooding, nights full of shadowy chasms, that nothing but Faith can bridge. But Ian has Faith – at least in his creed – and there are spiritual influences that no one can predict or resist, for the way of the Spirit is the way of the wind." Motionless she sat for a few minutes, and then rose hastily, saying softly as she did so, "Wherever is Marion? I wonder she was not seeking me ere this."
She found Marion in her own room. She was kneeling at the open window with her elbows on the broad stone sill, and her cheeks were almost touching the sweet little mignonettes. A tender smile brooded over her face, a tender light was in her eyes, she was lost in a new, ineffable sense of something full of delight – some pleasure strangely personal that was hers and hers alone.
"I am lonely without you, Marion. Why did you run away from me?"
"I thought Father was with you and, perhaps, saying something I would not like – about our visitors."
"What could he say that was not pleasant? I am sure they were everything that any reasonable person could expect."
"You know what Father told you about Lord Cramer. I have now seen him. I would not believe any wrong of him. I shall not listen to any wrong of him without protesting it; so I thought it best not to go into temptation."
"You did right."
"He is a beautiful young man – and how exquisite are his manners! How did he learn them?"
"He has always lived among people of the highest distinction, and they practice them naturally – or ought to do so."
"To you, to his stepmother, to Father, and to me he was equally polite. He did not treat me indifferently because I have only the shy, half-formed manners of a school-girl. He paid you as much respect as he paid Lady Cramer, though you are old and beneath her in social rank, nor was he in the least subservient to Father because he is a famous minister. He was equally attentive and courteous
