Of sages, martyrs, confessors—the man
Whom the best might of conscience, truth and hope,
For one day's little compass, has preserved
From painful and discreditable shocks
Of contradiction from some vague desire
Culpably cherished, or corrupt relapse
To some unsanctioned fear.
"That's just all the trouble, Mr. Wilkinson," said the delighted minister. "People think to honour and glorify God by being afraid of Him, forgetting that perfect love casts out the fear that hath torment, and he that feareth is not made perfect in love."
With such conversation they beguiled the way till they stood at the gate of Bridesdale, and entered the hospitable mansion, there to be received by the odious Grinstun man.
"What in aa' the warld, Marjorie, did Susan mean, sending us yon godless, low-lived chairact o' a Rawdon?" asked the Squire of his sister, Mrs. Carmichael.