The laymen exchanged shakes of the head and glances of sorrowful reprobation at the tranquil composure of this impenitent sinner, then they sighed despondingly and looked at the carpet, till their clerical leader should begin. Mr. Geddie had his voice and demeanour attuned to sad solemnity and love, but the words which these sentiments were to clothe were slow to arrive. He looked secretly at his intended penitent, as if inviting him to open the conference, but the invitation was unheeded. Curiosity and a well-mannered patience only were apparent in his bearing, and these were gradually changed into astonished amusement as the silence continued, and perhaps some slight gleam of mischief, as Mr. Geddie's regard grew more appealing. It was evident that their errand, whatever it might be, was hardly a friendly one, or they would not feel so much difficulty in putting it into words; and there was no reason why he should assist them to get into position the artillery with which they were about to open a cannonade on himself. Mr. Geddie was an accomplished preacher. He could preach from any text, at any length, and what was more, on any subject,--at least he could work round to the subject he meant to discuss, from any text or subject whatever, in a way the most natural. But a text or starting point of some kind he must have, and hence his desire that Roderick should speak. Had he even spoken of the weather, there would have been an opening to compare present climatic conditions with those which the impenitent wicked shall hereafter experience, and the whole affair would then have been open before him, to discourse on such points and phases as appeared expedient. But this obdurate person remained persistently silent, instead of helping with becoming meekness to prepare the discipline for his own shoulders. Mr. Geddie at length bethought him of his Bible, and, like any other proper-minded person, had recourse to that in his difficulty. Lifting his voice in a melancholy cadence, while he opened the book-- 'Let us read,' he cried, 'for edification and correction, a few of the Psalms.' His voice rose and fell according to his peculiar theory of elocution, getting fuller and louder as he warmed to the work, till he had read through the seven penitential Psalms. Then he paused and closed the book. 'Brother!' he said, 'the words which we have read are the inspired expression of contrition and penitence. They give fitting voice to every agonized soul that has--stumbled in the miry ways of life. Still, they are but in the general. Each case must bring its own particular specification of transgression--must bring forth its own dead out of its secret chambers, must lay bare its own moral wounds, and expose them to the healing sight of truth. The passer-by may shoot out the tongue and say, 'Aha!' but thou, my brother, hast purged thy skirts by open confession and separation, and mayhap thou mayest save thy soul! And oh! my brother, it is above price!'