stion in the form of a petition when
he seemed likely to break down, or putting a phrase into what she
considered more suitable language. But all such assistance she had given
up long ago.

On the present occasion, after she had ended her petitions with those
for Jews and pagans, and especially for the 'Pop' o' Rom',' in whom with
a rare liberality she took the kindest interest, always praying God to
give him a good wife, though she knew perfectly well the marriage-creed
of the priesthood, for her faith in the hearer of prayer scorned every
theory but that in which she had herself been born and bred, she turned
to Robert with the usual 'Noo, Robert!' and Robert began. But after he
had gone on for some time with the ordinary phrases, he turned all
at once into a new track, and instead of praying in general terms for
'those that would not walk in the right way,' said,

'O Lord! save my father,' and there paused.

'If it be thy will,' suggested his grandmother.

But Robert continued silent. His grandmother repeated the subjunctive
clause.

'I'm tryin', grandmother,' said Robert, 'but I canna say 't. I daurna
say an if aboot it. It wad be like giein' in till 's damnation. We maun
hae him saved, grannie!'

'Laddie! laddie! haud yer tongue!' said Mrs. Falconer, in a tone of
distressed awe. 'O Lord, forgie 'im. He's young and disna ken better
yet. He canna unnerstan' thy ways, nor, for that maitter, can I preten'
to unnerstan' them mysel'. But thoo art a' licht, and in thee is no
darkness at all. And thy licht comes into oor blin' een, and mak's
them blinner yet. But, O Lord, gin it wad please thee to hear oor
prayer...eh! hoo we wad praise thee! And my Andrew wad praise thee mair
nor ninety and nine o' them 'at need nae repentance.'

A long pause followed. And then the only words that would come were:
'For Christ's sake. Amen.'

When she said that God was light, instead of concluding therefrom that
he could not do the deeds of darkness, she was driven, from a faith in
the teaching of Jonathan Edwards as implicit as that of 'any lay papist
of Loretto,' to doubt whether the deeds of darkness were not after all
deeds of light, or at least to conclude that their character depended
not on their own nature, but on who did them.

They rose from their knees, and Mrs. Falconer sat down by her fire, with
her feet on her little wooden stool, and began, as was her wont in that
household twilight, ere the lamp was lighted, to r