“The system worked better than we suspect,” said the old man, gravely; “there was such a thing as public opinion among men in those days, although its exponents were neither pamphlets nor scurrilous newspapers. The unjust and the cruel were held in reprobation, and the good and the charitable had a fame as pure, although their deeds were not trumpeted aloud or graven on marble. Believe me, sir, we are not by any means so much wiser or better than those who went before us, and even if we were both, we certainly are not happier. This eternal warfare, this hand to hand and foot to foot straggle for rank, apd wealth, and power, that goes on amongst us now, had no existence then, when a man's destiny was carved out for him, and he was all but powerless to alter or control it.” “That alone was no small evil,” said Forester, interrupting him; “the humbly born and the lowly were debarred from all the prizes of life, no matter how great their deserts or how shining their abilities.” “Every rank and class had wherewithal to supply its own requirements,” answered Daly, proudly, “and the menial had more time to indulge affection for his master, when removed from the temptation to rival him. That strong bond of attachment has all but disappeared from amongst us.” As he spoke, he turned in his saddle and called out, “Can we cross the sands now, or is the tide making, Sandy?” “It's no just making yet,” said the servant, cautiously; “but when the breakers are so heavy off the Point, it's aye safer to keep the road.” “The road be it, then,” muttered Daly to himself; “men never are so chary of life as when about to risk it.” The observation, although not intended, reached Forester's ears, and he smiled and said, “Naturally enough, perhaps we ought not to be too exacting with fortune.” Daly turned suddenly round, and, after a brief pause, asked, “What skill have you with the pistol?” “When the mark is a shilling I can hit it, three times out of four, at twenty paces; but I never fired at a man.” “That does make a difference,” said Daly, musingly; “nothing short of an arrant coward could look calmly on a fellow-creature while he pointed a loaded pistol at his heart. A brave man will always have self-possession enough to feel the misery of his position. Had the feat been one of vengeance, and not of love, Tell had never hit the apple, sir. But there,--is not that a fire yonder?” “Yes, I see a red glare through the mist.” “There's a fire on Cluan Point,” said Sandy, riding up to his master's side; “I trow it's a signal.” “Ah! meant to quicken us, perhaps; some fear of being surprised,” said Daly, hastily; “let us move on faster.” And they spurred their horses to a sharp trot as they descended the gentle slope, which, projecting far out to sea, formed the promontory of Cluan.