“That is a thing I cannot do, father.  There is not a Laird of Crawford that was not nursed on some clanswoman’s breast.  We are all kin.  Do you think I would like to see Rory and Jean Crawford packed off to Canada?  And there is young Hector, my foster-brother!  And old Ailsa, your own foster-sister!  Every Crawford has a right to a bite and a sup from the Crawford land.”

“That is a’ bygane nonsense.  Your great-grandfather, if he wanted cattle or meal, could just take the clan and go and harry some Southern body out o’ them.  That is beyond our power, and it’s an unca charge to hae every Crawford looking to you when hunting and fishing fails.  They’ll do fine in Canada.  There is grand hunting, and if they want fighting, doubtless there will be Indians.  They will hae to go, and you will hae to stand by me in this matter.”

“It is against my conscience, sir.  I had also plans about these poor, half-civilized, loving kinsmen of ours.  You should hear Selwyn talk of what we might do with them.  There is land enough to give all who want it a few acres, and the rest could be set up with boats and nets as fishers.  They would like that.”

“Nae doubt.  But I don’t like it, and I wont hae it.  Mr. Selwyn may hae a big parish in London, but the Crawfords arena in his congregation.  I am king and bishop within my ain estate, Colin.”  Then he rose in a decided passion and locked up again the precious parchment, and Colin understood that, for the present, the subject was dismissed.

CHAPTER II.

At the very time this conversation was in progress, one strangely dissimilar was being carried on between George Selwyn and Helen Crawford.  They were sitting in the sweet, old-fashioned garden and Selwyn had been talking of the work so dear to his heart, but a silence had fallen between them.  Then softly and almost hesitatingly Helen said “Mr. Selwyn, I cannot help in this grand evangel, except with money and prayers.  May I offer you L300?  It is entirely my own, and it lies useless in my desk.  Will you take it?”

“I have no power to refuse it.  ‘You give it to God, durst I say no?’ But as I do not return at once, you had better send it in a check to our treasurer.”  Then he gave her the necessary business directions, and was writing the address of the treasurer when the laird stopped in front of them.

“Helen, you are needed in the house,” he said abruptly; and then turning to Selwyn, he asked him to take a walk up the hill.  The young man complied.  He was quite unconscious of the anger in the tone of the request.  For a few yards neither spoke; then the laird, with an irritable glance at his placid companion, said, “Mr. Selwyn, fore-speaking saves after-speaking.  Helen Crawford is bespoke for young Farquharson of Blair, and if you have any hopes o’ wiving in my house—­”

“Crawford, thank you for your warning, but I have no thoughts of marrying any one.  Helen Crawford is a pearl among women; but even if I wanted a wife, she is unfit for my helpmate.  When I took my curacy in the East End of London I counted the cost.  Not for the fairest of the daughters of men would I desert my first love—­the Christ-work to which I have solemnly dedicated my life.”