"I had no intention," returned his lordship with cold politeness,
"of troubling you concerning lord Forgue!"
"I beg your pardon, my lord," said Donal.
"--Davie, poor boy--he is my anxiety!" resumed the earl, in his
former condescendingly friendly, half sleepy tone. "What to do with
him, I have not yet succeeded in determining. If the church of
Scotland were episcopal now, we might put him into that: he would be
an honour to it! But as it has no dignities to confer, it is not the
place for one of his birth and social position. A few shabby
hundreds a year, and the associations he would necessarily be thrown
into!--However honourable the profession in itself!" he added, with
a bow to Donal, apparently unable to get it out of his head that he
had an embryo-clergyman before him.
"Davie is not quite a man yet," said Donal; "and by the time he
begins to think of a profession, he will, I trust, be fit to make a
choice: the boy has a great deal of common sense. If your lordship
will pardon me, I cannot help thinking there is no need to trouble
about him."
"It is very well for one in your position to think in that way, Mr.
Grant! Men like you are free to choose; you may make your bread as
you please. But men in our position are greatly limited in their
choice; the paths open to them are few. Tradition oppresses us. We
are slaves to the dead and buried.
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