"And now," suggested L'Isle, wishing to know the old man's views,
"election is for the Scotch nation, and reprobation for the
Portuguese?"

"I do not say that all Scotchmen, even in the Kirk, are of the elect."

"No," interposed Lady Mabel. "You misconstrue Moodie. He holds a
particular election within the Kirk, and a national reprobation
outside of it."

"I am afraid, my lady, it is not given to you to understand that high
doctrine. It is ordered that the blessing, and the comprehension of
it, go hand in hand."

"I must despair then, for I certainly do not comprehend it. In truth,
the tenor of your discourse calls up in my mind the involuntary doubt,
did this people first desert God, or God them? But I trample it down
as a snare laid by the evil one."

"We are in a land where the evil one bears full sway," said Moodie.

"Yet you have voluntarily put yourself in purgatory by coming to
travel in it," said Lady Mabel. "But you have your consolation, and
may give thankful utterance to the words of our Scotch poet:

'I bless and praise thy matchless might,
Whan thousands thou hast left in night,
That I am here afore thy sight,
For gifts an' grace,
A burning and a shining light,