’"Fill ye up, then, the measures of your fathers,"’ somewhat in this fashion he read from his place. ’"Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how shall ye escape the damnation of hell? Wherefore behold I send unto you prophets and wise men and scribes; and some of them ye shall kill and crucify, and some of them shall ye scourge in your synagogues, and persecute them from city to city—that upon you may come all the righteous blood shed upon the earth, from the blood of righteous Abel unto the blood of Zacharias, son of Barachias, whom ye slew between the temple and the altar. Verily I say unto you, all these things shall come upon this generation."’ Having read this word, which, knowing what I knew, I had thought would have made him sink through the earth with the fear of condemnation, John Mure commented upon it, showing how it applied to such as refused the right gospel way and walked in devious courses, careless of God and man. Then he went on with his reading in the same clear and solemn voice, though he must perforce have seen us stand in the hall door. So soon as the reading was over, the great company of the retainers decently took their departure, walking out soberly and without hurry. Then came John Mure down from the dais with the Bible yet in his hand, and welcomed us with a condescension that was quaint and uncanny. ’Ye have gotten us at our devotions, Mistress Helen, and you Master Launcelot, and Dominie Mure—my good cousin. You could not have found us better employed.’ ’Do ye believe what ye read?’ asked the Dominie, quickly. ’Whatever is a means to an end, that I believe in—even as you believe in your taws and birch twigs. The reading of Scripture threatenings makes quiet bairns, and so does the birch.’ ’What think ye of the blood of righteous Abel?’ said the Dominie—with, methought, more boldness than discretion. ’Will it cry from the ground, think ye?’ The Laird of Auchendrayne looked at the little Dominie, as one might upon a fractious but entertaining bairn. ’It is a point much disputed. Ye had better ask our Launcelot’s friend, Maister Robert Bruce, Minister of Edinburgh, if perchance his head be yet upon his shoulders.’ Which saying showed me that John Mure knew more than I had given him the credit for. Then he turned to Nell. ’You would wish to see the young Lady Auchendrayne?’ he said courteously. Nell replied coldly enough, ’I should like to see my sister.’ ’I think,’ said Auchendrayne, with a wiselike and grave sobriety that set well on his reverend person, ’that she is presently in the orchard house.’ ’Will you bide here, or will you go with Mistress Helen?’ he asked of me. ’We would all go together,’ said Nell, ’if it pleasure you.’