"King George!" cried the laird, in an ungovernable temper, "there is
the whole trouble. If we had only a Charles Stuart on the throne there
would be nane o' this Whiggery."

"There would be in its place masses, and popish priests, and a few
private torture-chambers, and whiles a Presbyterian heretic or twa
burned at the Grass-market. Whiggery is a grand thing when it keeps
the Scarlet Woman on her ain seven hills. Scotland's hills and braes
can do weel, weel without her."

This speech gave the laird time to think. It would never do to quarrel
with Tallisker. If he should set himself positively against his scheme
of sending his clan to Canada it would be almost a hopeless one; and
then he loved and respected his friend. His tall, powerful frame and
his dark, handsome face, all aglow with a passionate conviction of
right, and an invincible determination to do it, commanded his
thorough admiration. He clasped his hands behind his back and said
calmly,

"Tallisker, you'll be sorry enough for your temper erelong. You hae
gien way mair than I did. Ye ken how you feel about it."

"I feel ashamed o' mysel', laird. You'll no lay the blame o' it to my
office, but to Dugald Tallisker his ain sel'. There's a deal o'
Dugald Tallisker in me yet, laird; and whiles he is o'er much for
Dominie Tallisker."

They were at the gate by this time, and Crawford held out his hand and
said,