"Sir," resumed Patient, gravely, "it takes but a kindly heart to give alms for its own sake, or for the receiver's sake. But it takes a renewed heart to give alms for Christ's sake. Not the giving of alms was the title to life everlasting, but the giving them 'unto Him'[16] was the seal and evidence of their grace. They that know Christ will look for a savor of Him in all things, and such as have it not are bitter unto them. And I would call to your mind, Sir, that 'tis 'he that believeth'[17] which shall be saved: not he which giveth alms. At least, there is no such passage in _my_ Bible." "You always run off to something else," said Philip, discontentedly. "However, to come back to our first point--as to my conscience, begging your pardon, and with your gracious leave, I think that God has given it to me as a guide, and that I am bound to follow it." Patient laid down her work, and looked Philip in the face. "I read in the Word, Mr. Philip, of different sorts of consciences. There is a defiled conscience. 'Unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled.'[18] There is an evil conscience. 'Having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience;'[19] and nought in earth or heaven will sprinkle them to this end save the blood of Christ. There is a conscience lost and smothered in dead works. 'How much more shall the blood of Christ ... purge your conscience from dead works?'[20] Now, Mr. Philip, see your 'good' and charity to the poor. _Works_, you see: but, coming from dead hearts and souls--_dead_ works. And lastly, deepest and deadliest of all, I read of a conscience 'seared with a hot iron.'[21] Ay, there have been some of those in our day. The Lord protect us from it! The devil hath such a grip of them that they cannot free themselves; and, poor blind souls! they never know it, but think they are doing God's service. Are these consciences given as guides, Mr. Philip?" "Well, you see, all that is Saint Peter's opinion." "I ask you pardon, 'tis Paul, not Peter.' "Oh, St. Paul? Well, 'tis all the same." "Ay, Mr. Philip, it is all the same, for it was the Holy Ghost that spake through both of them. And _His_ opinion is scarce to be dealt with so lightly, methinks, seeing that by His word we shall be judged at the last day." Patient took up her work again, and said no more. Philip was silent for a time: when he next spoke it was on a different subject. "Celia, I want you to come down at my mother's next assembly. I should like to present my friend Colville to you." "I am rather curious to see him," she admitted. "Mr. Philip, if I might presume to say a word"-- "'Presume to say a word!' you may presume to say a thousand, my dear old Covenanter. What's in the wind now?" "I wish you went less about with that Mr. Colville." "Why? Does he wear his cravats without starch?" asked Philip, stretching himself out lazily.