“You came at my request, Maitland,” said the minister. “If a mistake has been made, it is mine. Good-night, Mrs. McNish. Good-night, Malcolm. I don't pretend to know or understand what is in your heart, but I am going to say to you as your minister that where there is evil passion there can be no clear thinking. And further, let me say that upon you will devolve a heavy responsibility for the guidance you give these men. Good-night again. Remember that One whom we both acknowledge as the source of all true light said: 'If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness.'” He shook hands first with the mother, then with the son, who turned away from him with a curt “Good-night” and nodded to Maitland.
For a moment or two neither of the men spoke. They were both grievously disappointed in the interview.
“I never saw him like that,” said the Reverend Murdo at length. “What can be the matter with him? With him passion is darkening counsel.”
“Well,” said Maitland, “I have found out one thing that I wanted.”
“And what is that?”
“These men clearly do not want what they are asking for. They want chiefly war—at least, McNish does.”
“I am deeply disappointed in McNish,” replied the minister, “and I confess I am anxious. McNish, above all others, is the brains of this movement, and in that mood there is little hope of reason from him. I fear it will be a sore fight, with a doubtful issue.”
“Oh, I don't despair,” said Maitland cheerily. “I have an idea he has a quarrel with me. He wants to get me. But we can beat him.”
The Reverend Murdo waited for a further explanation, but was too much of a gentleman to press the point and kept silent till they reached his door.
“You will not desert us, Mr. Matheson,” said Maitland earnestly.