The Sergeant had once or twice made an effort to "put in a word", but at last thought it best to hear the minister to the end. Then, drawing himself up as if on parade, he said, "I fear you have ta’en me up wrang, Mr. Porteous. My silence wasna consent. Had my auld Colonel--ane o’ the best and kindest o’ men--ordered me to march up to a battery, I wad hae done’t, though I should hae been blawn the next moment up to the moon; but if he had ordered me, for example, tae strike a bairn, or even tae kill my bird, I wad hae refused, though I had been shot the next minute for’t. There are things I canna do, and winna do, for mortal man, as long as God gies me my heart: and this is ane o’ them--I’ll never kill ’Charlie’s bairn’. That’s my last word--and ye can do as you and the Session please."
The minister stood aghast with astonishment. The Sergeant saluted him soldier-fashion, and walked out of the room, followed by Mr. Porteous to the front door. As he passed out, the minister said, "Had you shot fewer birds, sir, in your youth, you might have escaped the consequences of refusing to shoot this one now. ’Be sure your sin will find you out’," he added, in a louder voice, as he shut the door with extra force, and with a grim smile upon his face.
Smellie had informed him that forenoon of Mercer’s poaching days.
"Capital!" exclaimed Miss Thomasina, as she followed him into the study out of a dark corner in the lobby near the door, where she had been ensconced, listening to the whole conversation. "Let his proud spirit take that! I wonder you had such patience with the upsetting, petted fellow. Him and his bird, forsooth, to be disturbing the peace of the parish!"
"Leave him to me," quietly replied Mr. Porteous; "I’ll work him."
As the Sergeant returned home the sun set, and the whole western sky became full of glory, with golden islands sleeping on a sea in which it might seem a thousand rainbows had been dissolved; while the holy calm of the Sabbath eve was disturbed only by the "streams unheard by day", and by the last notes of the strong blackbird and thrush,--for all the other birds, wearied with singing since daybreak, had gone to sleep. The beauty of the landscape, a very gospel of "glory to God in the highest, on earth peace and goodwill to men", did not, however, lift the dull weight off Adam’s heart. He felt as if he had no right to share the universal calm.