There was such a torrent of
profound divinity poured out upon him that the laird became
ashamed, both of himself and his new-made spouse, and wist not
what to say: but the brandy helped him out.
"It strikes me, my dear, that religious devotion would be
somewhat out of place to-night," said he. "Allowing that it is ever
so beautiful, and ever so beneficial, were we to ride on the
rigging of it at all times, would we not be constantly making a
farce of it: It would be like reading the Bible and the jestbook,
verse about, and would render the life of man a medley of
absurdity and confusion."
But, against the cant of the bigot or the hypocrite, no reasoning
can aught avail. If you would argue until the end of life, the
infallible creature must alone be right. So it proved with the laird.
One Scripture text followed another, not in the least connected,
and one sentence of the profound Mr. Wringhim's sermons after
another, proving the duty of family worship, till the laird lost
patience, and tossing himself into bed, said carelessly that he
would leave that duty upon her shoulders for one night.
The meek mind of Lady Dalcastle was somewhat disarranged by
this sudden evolution.
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