But although the congregation dispersed thus rapidly, the divine remained behind in the chapel, and, walking up and down its Gothic precincts, seemed either to be meditating on what he had just been delivering, or preparing a fresh discourse for the next opportunity.  Bold as he was, Dalgetty hesitated what he ought to do.  Time, however, pressed, and every moment increased the chance of their escape being discovered by the jailor visiting the dungeon perhaps before his wonted time, and discovering the exchange which had been made there.  At length, whispering Ranald, who watched all his motions, to follow him and preserve his countenance, Captain Dalgetty, with a very composed air, descended a flight of steps which led from the gallery into the body of the chapel.  A less experienced adventurer would have endeavoured to pass the worthy clergyman rapidly, in hopes to escape unnoticed.  But the Captain, who foresaw the manifest danger of failing in such an attempt, walked gravely to meet the divine upon his walk in the midst of the chancel, and, pulling off his cap, was about to pass him after a formal reverence.  But what was his surprise to view in the preacher the very same person with whom he had dined in the castle of Ardenvohr!  Yet he speedily recovered his composure; and ere the clergyman could speak, was the first to address him.  “I could not,” he said, “leave this mansion without bequeathing to you, my very reverend sir, my humble thanks for the homily with which you have this evening favoured us.”

“I did not observe, sir,” said the clergyman, “that you were in the chapel.”

“It pleased the honourable Marquis,” said Dalgetty, modestly, “to grace me with a seat in his own gallery.”  The divine bowed low at this intimation, knowing that such an honour was only vouchsafed to persons of very high rank.  “It has been my fate, sir,” said the Captain, “in the sort of wandering life which I have led, to have heard different preachers of different religions—­as for example, Lutheran, Evangelical, Reformed, Calvinistical, and so forth, but never have I listened to such a homily as yours.”

“Call it a lecture, worthy sir,” said the divine, “such is the phrase of our church.”

“Lecture or homily,” said Dalgetty, “it was, as the High Germans say, Ganz FORTRE FLICH; and I could not leave this place without testifying unto you what inward emotions I have undergone during your edifying prelection; and how I am touched to the quick, that I should yesterday, during the refection, have seemed to infringe on the respect due to such a person as yourself.”

“Alas! my worthy sir,” said the clergyman, “we meet in this world as in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, not knowing against whom we may chance to encounter.  In truth, it is no matter of marvel, if we sometimes jostle those, to whom, if known, we would yield all respect.  Surely, sir, I would rather have taken you for a profane malignant than for such a devout person as you prove, who reverences the great Master even in the meanest of his servants.”