All this time, Donal had never again seen the earl, neither had the latter shown any interest in Davie's progress. But lady Arctura was full of serious anxiety concerning him. Heavily prejudiced against the tutor, she dreaded his influence on the mind of her little cousin.
There was a small recess in the schoolroom--it had been a bay window, but from an architectural necessity arising from decay, it had, all except a narrow eastern light, been built up--and in this recess Donal was one day sitting with a book, while Davie was busy writing at the table in the middle of the room: it was past school-hours, but the weather did not invite them out of doors, and Donal had given Davie a poem to copy. Lady Arctura came into the room--she had never entered it before since Donal came--and thinking he was alone, began to talk to the boy. She spoke in so gentle a tone that Donal, busy with his book, did not for some time distinguish a word she said. He never suspected she was unaware of his presence. By degrees her voice grew a little louder, and by and by these words reached him:
"You know, Davie dear, every sin, whatever it is, deserves God's wrath and curse, both in this life and that which is to come; and if it had not been that Jesus Christ gave himself to turn away his anger and satisfy his justice by bearing the punishment for us, God would send us all to the place of misery for ever and ever. It is for his sake, not for ours, that he pardons us."
She had not yet ceased when Donal rose in the wrath of love, and came out into the room.
"Lady Arctura," he said, "I dare not sit still and hear such false things uttered against the blessed God!"
Lady Arctura started in dire dismay, but in virtue of her breed and her pride recovered herself immediately, drew herself up, and said--"Mr. Grant, you forget yourself!"
"I'm very willing to do that, my lady," answered Donal, "but I must not forget the honour of my God. If you were a heathen woman I might think whether the hour was come for enlightening you further, but to hear one who has had the Bible in her hands from her childhood say such things about the God who made her and sent his Son to save her, without answering a word for him, would be cowardly!"
"What do you know about such things? What gives you a right to speak?" said lady Arctura.
Her pride-strength was already beginning to desert her.
"I had a Christian mother," answered Donal, "--have her yet, thank God!--who taught me to love nothing but the truth; I have studied the Bible from my childhood, often whole days together, when I was out with the cattle or the sheep; and I have tried to do what the Lords tells me, from nearly the earliest time I can remember.
Therefore I am able to set to my seal that God is true--that he is light, and there is no darkness of unfairness or selfishness in him.
I love God with my whole heart and soul, my lady."
Arctura tried to say she too loved him so, but her conscience interfered, and she could not.
"I don't say you don't love him," Donal went on; "but how you can love him and believe such things of him, I don't understand.
Whoever taught them first was a terrible liar against God, who is lovelier than all the imaginations of all his creatures can think."
Lady Arctura swept from the room--though she was trembling from head to foot. At the door she turned and called Davie. The boy looked up in his tutor's face, mutely asking if he should obey her.
"Go," said Donal.
In less than a minute he came back, his eyes full of tears.
"Arkie says she is going to tell papa. Is it true, Mr. Grant, that you are a dangerous man? I do not believe it--though you do carry such a big knife."
Donal laughed.
"It is my grandfather's skean dhu," he said: "I mend my pens with it, you know! But it is strange, Davie, that, when a body knows something other people don't, they should be angry with him! They will even think he wants to make them bad when he wants to help them to be good!"
"But Arkie is good, Mr. Grant!"
"I am sure she is. But she does not know so much about God as I do, or she would never say such things of him: we must talk about him more after this!"
"No, no, please, Mr. Grant! We won't say a word about him, for Arkie says except you promise never to speak of God, she will tell papa, and he will send you away."
"Davie," said Donal with solemnity, "I would not give such a promise for the castle and all it contains--no, not to save your life and the life of everybody in it! For Jesus says, 'Whosoever denieth me before men, him will I deny before my father in heaven;' and rather than that, I would jump from the top of the castle. Why, Davie! would a man deny his own father or mother?"
"I don't know," answered Davie; "I don't remember my mother."
"I'll tell you what," said Donal, with sudden inspiration: "I will promise not to speak about God at any other time, if she will promise to sit by when I do speak of him--say once a week.--Perhaps we shall do what he tells us all the better that we don't talk so much about him!"
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Grant!--I will tell her," cried Davie, jumping up relieved. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Grant!" he repeated; "I could not bear you to go away. I should never stop crying if you did. And you won't say any wicked things, will you? for Arkie reads her Bible every day."
"So do I, Davie."
"Do you?" returned Davie, "I'll tell her that too, and then she will see she must have been mistaken."
He hurried to his cousin with Donal's suggestion.
It threw her into no small perplexity--first from doubt as to the propriety of the thing proposed, next because of the awkwardness of it, then from a sudden fear lest his specious tongue should lead herself into the bypaths of doubt, and to the castle of Giant Despair--at which, indeed, it was a gracious wonder she had not arrived ere now. What if she should be persuaded of things which it was impossible to believe and be saved! She did not see that such belief as she desired to have was in itself essential damnation.
