nd the evil, let alone the good. Christianity is a thing that
could only make you vomit, till you are other than you are. I would not
justify it to you even if I could. Hate it, in God's name, as Turnbull
does, who is a man. It is a monstrous thing, for which men die. And if
you will stand here and talk about love for another ten minutes it is
very probable that you will see a man die for it."

And he fell on guard. Turnbull was busy settling something loose in his
elaborate hilt, and the pause was broken by the stranger.

"Suppose I call the police?" he said, with a heated face.

"And deny your most sacred dogma," said MacIan.

"Dogma!" cried the man, in a sort of dismay. "Oh, we have no _dogmas_,
you know!"

There was another silence, and he said again, airily:

"You know, I think, there's something in what Shaw teaches about no
moral principles being quite fixed. Have you ever read _The Quintessence
of Ibsenism_? Of course he went very wrong over the war."

Turnbull, with a bent, flushed face, was tying up the loose piece of the
pommel with string. With the string in his teeth, he said, "Oh, make up
your damned mind and clear out!"

"It's a serious thing," said the philosopher, shaking his head. "I must
be alone and consider which is the higher point of view. I rather feel
that in a case so extreme as this..." and he went slowly away. As he
disappeared among the trees, they heard him murmuring in a sing-song
voice, "New occasions teach new duties," out of a poem by James Russell
Lowell.

"Ah," said MacIan, drawing a deep breath. "Don't you believe in prayer
now? I prayed for an angel."

"An hour ago," said the Highlander, in his heavy meditative voice, "I
felt the devil weakening my heart and my oath against you, and I prayed
that God would send an angel to my aid."

"Well?" inquired the other, finishing his mending and wrapping the rest
of the string round his hand to get a firmer grip.

"Well?"

"Well, that man was an angel," said MacIan.

"I didn't know they were as bad as that," answered Turnbull.

"We know that devils sometimes quote Scripture and counterfeit good,"
replied the mystic. "Why should not angels sometimes come to show us the
black abyss of evil on whose brink we stand. If that man had not tried
to stop us...I might...I might have stopped."

"I know what you mean," said Turnbull, grimly.

"But then he came," broke out MacIan, "and my soul said to me: 'Give up
fighting, and you wi