“Perhaps it does,” replied the doctor, “but there is nothing a man feels deeper than the disgrace of his own side.” “Well,” said Tomkyns, stung by the word disgrace, “there are lots of things I could have done for you, but if this is your line it may not be quite so pleasant for yourself in Drumtochty, let me tell you.” The doctor was never a diplomatic advocate, and now he allowed himself full liberty. “You make Drumtochty pleasant or unpleasant for me!” with a withering glance at the factor. “There is one man in this parish neither you nor your master nor the Queen herself, God bless her, can touch, and that is the minister of the Established Church. “I was here before you were born, and I 'll be here when you have been dismissed from your office. There is just one favour I beg of you, and I hope you will grant it”--the doctor was now thundering--“it is that you never dare to speak to me the few times you may yet come to the parish of Drumtochty.” Drumsheugh went straight to give Burnbrae an account of this interview, and his enthusiasm was still burning. “Naethin' 'ill daunt the doctor--tae hear him dress the factor wes michty; he hed his gold-headed stick wi' him, 'at wes his father's, an' when he brocht it dune on the table at the end, the eyegless droppit oot o' the waefu' body's 'ee, an' the very rings on his fingers jingled. “The doctor bade me say 'at he hed pled yir case, but he wes feared he hed dune ye mair ill than gude.” “Be sure he hesna dune that, Drumsheugh; a' didna expeck that he cud change the factor's mind, an' a'm no disappointed. “But the doctor hes dune a gude wark this day he never thocht o', and that will bring a blessing beyond mony leases; for as lang as this generation lives an' their children aifter them, it will be remembered that the parish minister, wi' his elder beside him, forgot thae things wherein we differ, and stude by the Free Kirk in the 'oor o' her adversity.” II.--THE ENDLESS CHOICE It was known in the Glen that Burnbrae must choose on Monday between his farm and his conscience, and the atmosphere in the Free Church on Sabbath was such as might be felt. When he arrived that morning, with Jean and their three sons--the fourth was in a Highland regiment on the Indian frontier--the group that gathered at the outer gate opened to let them pass, and the elders shook Burnbrae by the hand in serious silence; and then, instead of waiting to discuss the prospects of the Sustentation Fund with Netherton, Burnbrae went in with his family, and sat down in the pew where they had worshipped God since the Disruption. The cloud of the coming trial fell on the elders, and no man found his voice for a space. Then Donald Menzies's face suddenly lightened, and he lifted his head. “'With persecutions' wass in the promise, and the rest it will be coming sure.”