"The executions at Carlisle, and the beheading scenes at Tower Hill, had been over for some time before the change of which I speak took place. Pleasing as it was to us, another source of discomfort, and a far more trying one, was discovered: he was a rank papist!--an idolater!--a worshipper of painted and graven images! Judge you what we two covenanted adherents of the Church of Scotland, in all her purity, felt, to have a part of our roof turned into a temple of Dagon! We were sore beset. What to do, we knew not. If the laird had been at home, our duty was plain before us--to demand back my pledge, which I never meant should shelter the enemies of truth, or convert my house into the abode of idolatry, to the risk of the salvation of our precious souls. But I knew not where to find him; and besides, much as I detested our guest's mode of worshipping, I could not divest myself of a secret love for him--he was so condescending, so grand, yet so humble and polite in all he did; and I could not say there was anything amiss in his conduct, save the way in which he had decorated his lonely apartment. Grace there was not half so much perplexed as I was. 'Poor gentleman,' she said, 'if he is pleased, it would be wrong in us to find fault. I have nae doubt he is a poor, misled, ignorant papist, and wish from my heart he was as well informed as we are; but, if he thinks he is right, we may pity, but I wadna distress him. We must set a good example, and pray for his enlightenment night and morning.'