of this passage the light began to flicker and die. First a lamp at the end of Burnbrae's pew went out and then another in the front. The preacher made as though he would have spoken, but was silent, and the congregation watched four lamps sink into darkness at intervals of half a minute. There only remained the two pulpit lamps, and in their light the people saw the Rabbi lift his right hand for the first time. Shall . . . not. . . the . . . Judge of all the earth . . . do . . . right?" The two lamps went out together, and a great sigh rose from the people. At the back of the kirk a child wailed and somewhere in the front a woman's voice-it was never proved to be Elspeth Macfadyen-said audibly, "God have mercy upon us." The Rabbi had sunk back into the seat and buried his face in his hands, and through the window over his head the moonlight was pouring into the church like unto the far-off radiance from the White Throne. When Carmichael led the Rabbi into the manse he could feel the old man trembling from head to foot, and he would touch neither meat nor drink, nor would he speak for a space. "Are you there, John?" and he put out his hand to Carmichael, who had placed him in the big study chair, and was sitting beside him in silence. I dare not withdraw nor change any word that I spake in the name of the Lord this day, but... it is my infirmity. I wish I had never been born." "It was awful," said Carmichael, and the Rabbi's head again fell on his breast. "John" and Saunderson looked up "I would give ten thousand world's to stand in the shoes of that good man who conveyed me from Kilbogie yesterday, and with whom I had very pleasant fellowship concerning the patience of the saints. It becometh not any human being to judge his neighbour, but it seemed to me from many signs that he was within the election of God, and even as we spoke of Polycarp and the martyrs who have overcome by the blood of the Lamb, it came unto me with much power, Lo, here is one beside you whose name is written in the Lamb's Book of Life, and who shall enter through the gates into the city'; and grace was given me to rejoice in his joy, but I . . .”—and Carmichael could have wept for the despair in the Rabbi's voice. "Dear Rabbi!"—for once the confidence of youth was smitten at the sight of a spiritual conflict beyond its depth-"you are surely . . depreciating yourself. . . . Burnbrae is a good man, but compared with you... is not this like to the depression of Elijah?" Carmichael knew, however, he was not fit for such work, and had better have held his peace. It may be that I understand the letter of Holy Scripture better than some of God's children although I be but a babe even in this poor knowledge, but such gifts are only as the small dust of the balance. He will have mercy on whom He will have mercy. "John," said the Rabbi suddenly, and with strong feeling, "was it your thought this night as I declared the sovereignty of God that I judged myself of the elect, and was speaking as one himself hidden forever in the secret place of God?" "I... did not know," stammered Carmichael, whose utter horror at the unrelenting sermon had only been tempered by his love for the preacher. You did me wrong, John, for then had I not dared to speak at all after that fashion; it is not for a vessel of mercy filled unto overflowing with the love of God to exalt himself above the vessels . . . for whom there is no mercy. But he may plead with them who are in like case with himself to acknowledge the Divine Justice." Then the pathos of the situation overcame Carmichael, and he went over to the bookcase and leant his threatening masses, now and again head against certain volumes, because a flake of snow drifts in the wind. they were weighty and would not A storm is near at hand, not the yield. Next day he noticed that one thunder-shower of summer, with warm of them was a Latin Calvin that had rain and the kindly sun in ambush, travelled over Europe in learned com- but dark and blinding snow, through pany, and the other a battered copy of which even a gamekeeper cannot see Jonathan Edwards that had come six yards, and in which weary travelfrom the house of an Ayrshire farmer. lers lie down to rest and die. "Forgive me that I have troubled you with the concerns of my soul, John" the Rabbi could only stand with an effort" they ought to be between a man and his God. There is another work laid to my hand for which there is no power in me now. During the night I shall ask whether the cup may not pass from me, but if not, the will of God be done." Carmichael slept but little, and every time he woke the thought was heavy upon him that on the other side of a narrow wall the holiest man he knew was wrestling in darkness of soul, and that he had added to the bitterness of the agony. CHAPTER XX. THE WOUNDS OF A FRIEND. WINTER has certain mornings which redeem weeks of misconduct, when the hoar frost during the night has re-silvered every branch and braced the snow upon the ground, and the sun rises in ruddy strength and drives out of sight every cloud and mist, and moves all day through an expanse of unbroken blue, and is reflected from the dazzling whiteness of the earth as from a mirror. Such a sight calls a man from sleep with authority, and makes his blood tingle, and puts new heart in him, and banishes the trouble of the night. Other mornings, winter joins in the conspiracy of principalities and powers to daunt and crush the human soul. No sun is to be seen, and the grey atomsphere casts down the heart, the wind moans and whistles in fitful gusts, the black clouds hang low in The melancholy of this kind of day had fallen on Saunderson, whose face was ashen, and who held Carmichael's hand with such anxious affection that it was impossible to enquire how he had slept, and would have been a banalité to remark upon the weather. After the Rabbi had been compelled to swallow a cup of milk by way of breakfast, it was evident that he was ready for speech. What is it, Rabbi?" as soon as they were again settled in the study. If you did not... like my sermon, tell me at once. You know that I am one of your boys, and you ought to help me." Perhaps it was inseparable from his youth, with its buoyancy and self-satisfaction, and his training in a college whose members only knew by rumour of the existence of other places of theological learning, that Carmichael had a distant sense of humility and charity. Had it been a matter of scholastic lore, of course neither he nor more than six men in Scotland could have met the Rabbi in the gate. With regard to modern thought, Carmichael knew that the good Rabbi had not read Ecce Homo, and was hardly, well . . . up to date. He would not for the world hint such a thing to the dear old man, or even argue with him; but it was flattering to remember that the attack could be merely one of blunder-busses, in which the modern thinker would at last intervene and save the ancient scholar from humiliation. "Well, Rabbi?" and Carmichael tried to make it easy. "Before I say what is on my heart, John, you will grant an old man who loves you one favour. So far as in you About an hour afterward, and when the Rabbi was only entering into the heart of the matter, Carmichael made. the bitter discovery-without the Rabbi having even hinted at such a thing that his pet sermon was a mass of boyish crudities, and this reverse of circumstances was some excuse for his pettishness. "It does not seem to me that it is worth our time to haggle about the usage of Greek words to count texts: I ground my position on the general meaning of the Gospels and the sense of things," and Carmichael stood on the hearthrug in a very superior attitude. "Let that pass then, John, and forgive me if I appear to battle about words, as certain scholars of the olden time were fain to do, for in truth it is rather about the hard duty before me than any imperfection in your teaching I would speak," and the Rabbi glanced nervously at the young minister. "We are both Presbyters of Christ's Church, ordained after the order of primitive times, and there is laid on us certain heavy charges and responsibilities from which we may not shrink, as we shall answer to the Lord at the great day." Carmichael's humiliation was lost in perplexity, and he sat down, wondering what the Rabbi intended. "If any Presbyter should see his brother fall into one of those faults of private life that do beset us all in our present weakness, then he doth well and kindly to point it out unto his brother; and if his brother should depart from the faith as they talk together by the way, then it is a Presbyter's part to convince him of his error and restore him." The Rabbi cast an imploring glance, but Carmichael had still no understanding. But if one Presbyter should teach heresy to his flock in the hearing of another . . . even though it break the other's heart, is not the path of duty fenced up on either side, verily a straight, narrow way, and hard for the feet to tread?" "You have spoken to me, Rabbi, and . . . cleared yourself "- Carmichael was still somewhat sore-" and I'll promise not to offend you again in any action sermon." "Albeit you intend it not so, yet are you making it harder for me to speak. . . . See you not . . . that I that necessity is laid on me to declare this matter to my brother Presbyters in court assembled. . . but not in hearing of the people?" Then there was a stillness in the room, and the Rabbi, although he had closed his eyes, was conscious of the amazement on the young man's face. Do you mean to say," speaking very slowly, as one taken utterly aback, " that our Rabbi would come to my. to the Sacrament and hear me preach, and . . . report me for heresy to the Presbytery? Rabbi, I know we don't agree about some things, and perhaps I was a little . . . annoyed a few minutes ago because you . . . know far more than I do, but that is nothing. For you to prosecute one of your boys and be the witness yourself. . . Rabbi, Rabbi, you can't mean it. . . say it's a mistake." The old man only gave a deep sigh. "If it were Dowbiggin or . . . any man except you, I wouldn't care one straw, rather enjoy the debate, but you whom we have loved and looked up to and boasted about, why, it's like a father turning against his sons." The Rabbi made no sign. "You live too much alone, Rabbi," and Carmichael began again as the sense of the tragedy grew on him, "and nurse your conscience till it gets over tender; no other man would dream of prosecuting a . . . fellow-minister in such circumstances. You have spoken to me like a father, surely that is enough," and in his honest heat the young fellow knelt down by the Rabbi's chair and took his hand. A tear rolled down the Rabbi's cheek, and he looked fondly at the lad. "Your words pierce me as sharp swords, John; spare me, for I can do none otherwise; all night I wrestled for release, but in vain." Carmichael had a sudden revulsion of feeling, such as befalls emotional and ill-disciplined natures when they are disappointed and mortified. "Very good, Doctor Saunderson " Carmichael rose awkwardly and stood on the hearthrug again, an elbow on the mantelpiece-" you must do as you please and think right. I am sorry that I . . . pressed you so far, but it was on grounds of our . . . friendship. "Perhaps you will tell me as soon as you can what you propose to do and when you will bring... this matter before the Presbyter. My sermon was fully written and . . is at your disposal." 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 this 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 an 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 . Doctor 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. is While this cold rain beat on the Rabbi's head he moved not, but at its close he looked at Carmichael with the appeal of a dumb animal in his eyes. "The first meeting of Presbytery on Monday, but you would no doubt 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 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, wrapped 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 to me, and forgive me for all wherein I have failed you." And they did not meet again till that neverto-be-forgotten sederunt of the Free Kirk Presbytery of Muirtown, when the minister of Kilbogie accused the minister of Drumitochty of teaching the Linlathen heresy of the Fatherhood of God in a sermon before the Sacrament. Among all the institutions of the North a Presbytery is the most characteristic, and affords a standing illustration of the contradictions of a superbly logical people. It is so anticlerical a court that for every clergyman there must also be a laymancountry ministers promising to bring in their elder for great occasions, and instructing him audibly how to voteand so fiercely clerical that if the most pious and intelligent elder dared to administer a sacrament he would be at once tried and censured for sacrilege. So careful is a Presbytery to prevent the beginnings of Papacy that it insists upon each of its members occupying the chair in turn, and dismisses him again into private life as soon as he has mastered his duties, but so imbued is it with the idea of authority, that whatever decision may be given by some lad of twenty-five in the chair-duly instructed, however, by theclerk below-will be rigidly obeyed. When a Presbytery has nothing else to do, it dearly loves to pass a general condemnation of sacerdotalism, in which the tyranny of prelates and the foolishness of vestments will be fully exposed, but a Presbytery wields a power at which a bishop's hair would stand on end, and Doctor Dowbiggin once made Carmichael leave the Communion Table and go into the vestry to put on his bands. When a Presbytery is in its lighter moods, it gives itself to points of order with a skill and relish beyond the Southern imagination. It did not matter how harmless, even infantile might be the proposal placed before the court by such a man as MacWheep of Pitscourie, he would hardly have got past an apology for his presumption in venturing to speak at all, before a member of Presbytery-who had reduced his congregation to an irreducible minimum by the woodenness of his preaching— would enquire whether the speech of "our esteemed brother was not ultra vires" or something else as awful. Mac Wheep would at once sit down. with the air of one taken red-handed in crime, and the court would debate the point till every authority had taken his fill, when the clerk would submit to the moderator, with a fine blend of deference and infallibility, that Mr. Mac Wheep was perfectly within his rights; and then, as that estimable person had lost any thread he ever possessed, the Presbytery would pass to the next business-with the high spirit of men returning from a holiday. Carmichael used, indeed, to relate how in a great stress of business some one moved that the Presbytery should adjourn for dinner, and the court argued for seventy minutes, with many precedents, whether such a motion-touching as it did the standing orders-could even be discussed, and with an unnecessary prodigality of testimony he used to give perorations which improved with every telling. The love of law diffused through the Presbytery became incarnate in the clerk, who was one of the most finished specimens of his class in the Scottish Kirk. His sedate appearance, bald, polished head, fringed with pure white hair, shrewd face, with neatly cut side whiskers, his suggestion of unerring accuracy and inex |