Duncan Polite shook his head slowly; he seemed scarcely to hear. "He would be showing me I was not worthy," he said, in deepest humility. "For I would not be warning the people as my father would, and I will be punished for my sin. The blessing will not be coming as in my father's time; for I will be hearing Him say, 'Bind the sacrifice with cords even unto the horns of the altar,' and what will it be, Andra, what will it be? The watchman will be an unfaithful servant. Oh, wae's me for a worthless vessel!"
Old Andrew's sympathy moved him to rough, quick speech. "Ye're tryin' to carry the sins o' people who must suffer for their ain, Duncan McDonald," he said, with a harshness Duncan did not misunderstand. "It's nane o' your fault, man!"
"It will be my inheritance, Andra," said the other, with quiet but firm conviction. "I would be hearing it, 'Son of man, I have set thee a watchman.' It would be a message to me."
There was a long silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the village. To the matter-of-fact Andrew Johnstone the mystic Highlander was a puzzle; but his faith and sympathy remained unabated. Duncan had never fully opened his heart before, and his friend stood awed at the depths revealed. He had little to say in reply; the elder was a man whose emotions, except that of righteous indignation, were kept suppressed. But every word of his old friend sank deep into his heart. He parted with a word of comfort.
"We mustna' forget that the Lord has us a' in His hands, Duncan," he said awkwardly, as he rose to go, feeling strange in his entirely new role of comforter to the hopeful one. "He is all-wise, an' He kens, ye mind."
"Oh, indeed yes, indeed yes." Duncan's tone was full of contrition for his late despair. "He will be a very present help in time of trouble."
But he sat at his dark little window, looking over at the place of his covenant until the shadowy, ethereal greyness of the dawn concentrated itself in a glorious bar on the eastern horizon and gradually grew into the great awakening of another day.
He had been disturbed in his meditations and prayers only once. At about midnight, a laughing crowd of young folk passed the house on their way to the village. They were returning from a husking bee. Duncan could hear their noisy, gay chatter, and among the merriest voices he could distinguish the one that he had once hoped would call all the youth of his valley to a higher and better life.