“You mean far more than that, my lady!” said Donal. “You mean everything in the human heart, which will to all eternity keep moaning and crying out for the Father of it, until it is one with its one relation!”
He lifted his bonnet, and would have passed on.
“One word, Mr. Grant,” said Miss Carmichael. “—No man holding such doctrines could with honesty become a clergyman of the church of Scotland.”
“Very likely,” replied Donal, “Good afternoon.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grant!” said Arctura. “I hope you are right.”
When he was gone, the ladies resumed their walk in silence. At length Miss Carmichael spoke.
“Well, I must say, of all the conceited young men I have had the misfortune to meet, your Mr. Grant bears the palm! Such self-assurance! such presumption! such forwardness!”
“Are you certain, Sophia,” rejoined Arctura, “that it is self-assurance, and not conviction that gives him his courage?”
“He is a teacher of lies! He goes dead against all that good men say and believe! The thing is as clear as daylight: he is altogether wrong!”
“What if God be sending fresh light into the minds of his people?”