"Man!" exclaimed the stonemason, rising to his full height with slow labour after the day's toil, "it wad be cruel to gar him repent. It wad be ower sair upon him. Better kill him. The bitterness o' sic repentance wad be ower terrible. It wad be mair nor he cud bide. It wad brak his hert a'thegither.�-Na, na, he has nae chance."
The last sentence was spoken quickly and with attempted carelessness as he resumed his seat.
"Hoo ken ye that?" asked Cupples.
"There's no sic word i' the Scriptur'."
"Do ye think He maun tell us a' thing?"
"We hae nae richt to think onything that He doesna tell's."
"I'm nae sae sure o' that, Thomas. Maybe, whiles, he doesna tell's a thing jist to gar's think aboot it, and be ready for the time whan he will tell's."
Thomas was silent for a few moments. Then with a smile-�rather a grim one�-he said,
"Here's a curious thing, no.�-There's neyther o' you convertit, and yet yer words strenthen my hert as gin they cam frae the airt (region) aboon."
But his countenance changed, and he added hastily,