His voice fell almost to a whisper, but the outward, upward glance of the inspired eyes completely disconcerted the aggressive old chieftain.  His supposed enemy, in some intangible way, had escaped him, and he felt keenly his own mistake.  He was glad to see Colin coming; it gave him an opportunity of escaping honorably from a conversation which had been very humiliating to him.  He had a habit when annoyed of seeking the sea-beach.  The chafing, complaining waves suited his fretful mood, and leaving the young men, he turned to the sea, taking the hillside with such mighty strides that Selwyn watched him with admiration and astonishment.

“Four miles of that walking will bring him home in the most amiable of moods,” said Colin.  And perhaps it would, if he had been left to the sole companionship of nature.  But when he was half way home he met Dominie Tallisker, a man of as lofty a spirit as any Crawford who ever lived.  The two men were close friends, though they seldom met without disagreeing on some point.

“Weel met, dominie!  Are you going to the Keep?”

“Just so, I am for an hour’s talk wi’ that fine young English clergyman you hae staying wi’ you.”

“Tallisker, let me tell you, man, you hae been seen o’er much wi’ him lately.  Why, dominie! he is an Episcopal, and an Arminian o’ the vera warst kind.”

“Hout, laird!  Arminianism isna a contagious disease.  I’ll no mair tak Arminianism from the Rev. George Selwyn than I’ll tak Toryism fra Laird Alexander Crawford.  My theology and my politics are far beyond inoculation.  Let me tell you that, laird.”

“Hae ye gotten an argument up wi’ him, Tallisker?  I would like weel to hear ye twa at it.”

“Na, na; he isna one o’ them that argues.  He maks downright assertions; every one o’ them hits a body’s conscience like a sledge-hammer.  He said that to me as we walked the moor last night that didna let me sleep a wink.”

“He is a vera disagreeable young man.  What could he say to you?  You have aye done your duty.”

“I thought sae once, Crawford.  I taught the bairns their catechism; I looked weel to the spiritual life o’ young and old; I had aye a word in season for all.  But maybe this I ought to hae done, and not left the other undone.”

“You are talking foolishness, Tallisker, and that’s a thing no usual wi’ you.”

“No oftener wi’ me nor other folk.  But, laird, I feel there must be a change.  I hae gotten my orders, and I am going to obey them.  You may be certain o’ that.”

“I didna think I would ever see Dominie Tallisker taking orders from a disciple o’ Arminius—­and an Englishman forbye!”

“I’ll tak my orders, Crawford, from any messenger the Lord chooses to send them by.  And I’ll do this messenger justice; he laid down no law to me, he only spak o’ the duty laid on his own conscience; but my conscience said ‘Amen’ to his—­that’s about it.  There has been a breath o’ the Holy Ghost through the Church o’ England lately, and the dry bones o’ its ceremonials are being clothed upon wi’ a new and wonderfu’ life.”