'But, seriously, Graeme,' I remonstrated, 'you ought to tell your people
of your life--that free, glorious life in the mountains.'
'Free! Glorious! To some men, perhaps!' said Graeme, and then fell into
silence.
But I saw Graeme as a new man the night he talked theology with his
father. The old minister was a splendid Calvinist, of heroic type, and
as he discoursed of God's sovereignty and election, his face glowed and
his voice rang out.
Graeme listened intently, now and then putting in a question, as one
would a keen knife-thrust into a foe. But the old man knew his ground,
and moved easily among his ideas, demolishing the enemy as he appeared,
with jaunty grace. In the full flow of his triumphant argument, Graeme
turned to him with sudden seriousness.
'Look here, father! I was born a Calvinist, and I can't see how any one
with a level head can hold anything else, than that the Almighty has
some idea as to how He wants to run His universe, and He means to carry
out His idea, and is carrying it out; but what would you do in a case
like this?' Then he told him the story of poor Billy Breen, his fight
and his defeat.
Pages:
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263