fear lest his specious tongue should lead herself into the bypaths of doubt, and to the castle of Giant Despair—at which, indeed, it was a gracious wonder she had not arrived ere now. What if she should be persuaded of things which it was impossible to believe and be saved! She did not see that such belief as she desired to have was in itself essential damnation. For what can there be in heaven or earth for a soul that believes in an unjust God? To rejoice in such a belief would be to be a devil, and to believe what cannot be rejoiced in, is misery. No doubt a man may not see the true nature of the things he thinks she believes, but that cannot save him from the loss of not knowing God, whom to know is alone eternal life; for who can know him that believes evil things of him? That many a good man does believe such things, only argues his heart not yet one towards him. To make his belief possible he must dwell on the good things he has learned about God, and not think about the bad things.
And what would Sophia say? Lady Arctura would have sped to her friend for counsel before giving any answer to the audacious proposal, but she was just then from home for a fortnight, and she must resolve without her! She reflected also that she had not yet anything sufficiently definite to say to her uncle about the young man's false doctrine; and, for herself, concluded that, as she was well grounded for argument, knowing thoroughly the Shorter Catechism with the proofs from scripture of every doctrine it contained, it was foolish to fear anything from one who went in the strength of his own ignorant and presumptuous will, regardless of the opinions of the fathers of the church, and accepting only such things as were pleasing to his unregenerate nature.
But she hesitated; and after waiting for a week without receiving any answer to his proposal, Donal said to Davie,
"We shall have a lesson in the New Testament to-morrow: you had better mention it to your cousin."
The next morning he asked him if he had mentioned it. The boy said he had.
"What did she say, Davie?"
"Nothing—only looked strange," answered Davie.
When the hour of noon was past, and lady Arctura did not appear, Donal said,
"Davie, we'll have our New Testament lesson out of doors: that is the best place for it!"
"It is the best place!" responded Davie, jumping up. "But you're not taking your book, Mr. Grant!"
"Never mind; I will give you a lesson or two without book first."
Just as they were leaving the room, appeared lady Arctura with Miss Carmichael.
"I understood," said the former, with not a little haughtiness, "that you—"
She hesitated, and Miss Carmichael took up the word.
"We wish to form our own judgment," she said, "on the nature of the religious instruction you give your pupil."
"I invited lady Arctura to be present when I taught him about God," said Donal.
"Then are you not now going to do so?" said Arctura.
"As your ladyship made no answer to my proposal, and school hours were over, I concluded you were not coming."
"And you would not give the lesson without her ladyship!" said Miss Carmichael. "Very right!"
"Excuse me," returned Donal; "we were going to have it out of doors."
"But you had agreed not to give him any so-called religious instruction but in the presence of lady Arctura!"
"By no means. I only offered to give it in her presence if she chose. There was no question of the lessons being given."
Miss Carmichael looked at lady Arctura as much as to say—"Is he speaking the truth?" and if she replied, it was in the same fashion.
Donal looked at Miss Carmichael. He did not at all relish her interference. He had never said he would give his lesson before any who chose to be present! But he did not see how to meet the intrusion. Neither could he turn back into the schoolroom, sit down, and begin. He put his hand on Davie's shoulder, and walked slowly towards the lawn. The ladies followed in silence. He sought to forget their presence, and be conscious only of his pupil's and his master's. On the lawn he stopped suddenly.
"Davie," he said, "where do you fancy the first lesson in the New Testament ought to begin?"
"At the beginning," replied Davie.
"When a thing is perfect, Davie, it is difficult to say what is the beginning of it: show me one of your marbles."
The boy produced from his pocket a pure white one—a real marble.
"That is a good one for the purpose," remarked Donal, "—very smooth and white, with just one red streak in it! Now where is the beginning of this marble?"
"Nowhere," answered Davie.
"If I should say everywhere?" suggested Donal.
"Ah, yes!" said the boy.
"But I agree with you that it begins nowhere."
"It can't do both!"
"Oh, yes, it can! it begins nowhere for itself, but everywhere for us. Only all its beginnings are endings, and all its endings are beginnings. Look here: suppose we begin at this red streak, it is just there we should end again. That is because it is a perfect thing.—Well, there was one who said, 'I am Alpha and Omega,'—the first Greek letter and the last, you know—'the beginning and the end, the first and the last.' All the New Testament is about him. He is perfect, and I may begin about him where I best can. Listen then as if you had never heard anything about him before.—Many years ago—about fifty or sixty grandfathers off—there appeared in the world a few men who said that a certain man had been their companion for some time and had just left them; that he was killed by cruel men, and buried by his friends; but that, as he had told them he would, he lay in the grave only three days, and left it on the third alive and well; and that, after forty days, during which they saw him several times, he went up into the sky, and disappeared.—It wasn't a very likely story, was it?"
"No," replied Davie.
The ladies exchanged looks of horror. Neither spoke, but each leaned eagerly forward, in fascinated expectation of worse to follow.
"But, Davie," Donal went on, "however unlikely it must have seemed to those who heard it, I believe every word of it."
A ripple of contempt passed over Miss Carmichael's face.
"For," continued Donal, "the man said he was the son of God, come down from his father to see his brothers, his father's children, and take home with him to his father those who would go."
"Excuse me," interrupted Miss Carmichael, with a pungent smile: "what he said was, that if any man believed in him, he should be saved."
"Run along, Davie," said Donal. "I will tell you more of what he said next lesson. Don't forget what I've told you now."
"No, sir," answered Davie, and ran off.
Donal lifted his hat, and would have gone towards the river. But Miss Carmichael, stepping forward, said,
"Mr. Grant, I cannot let you go till you answer me one question: do you believe in the atonement?"
"I do," answered Donal.
"Favour me then with your views upon it,"
