CHAPTER X.

A HIGHLAND FIELD-PREACHING.

"We bear you the message, the Lamb's invitation; The rude world's rude clamour, it floateth above: Oh join the sweet song, the glad song of salvation, And rest 'neath His banner, the Banner of Love."

RIGHT down on Minnie's grave in the Highland churchyard the autumn sunbeams were playing, as Nora, some months after her hasty return to Benvourd, stood there wondering, as so many young hearts have done before her, how the sun could shine and all nature look bright when Minnie was dead. Yet inwardly the young girl was glad too, with a great, quiet, solemn joy; for in her heart light and peace had sprung up, and a sunshine, of which the world knows nothing, was filling the chambers of her soul. The doubting and indecision were ended at last; the neutral flag under which Nora had long tried to fight was put aside; and the young girl had taken her stand as one of the followers of the Lord Jesus, and joined the army over which floated the banner of the King of kings.

The long, sad summer after Minnie's death was merging into early autumn, and the birches and oak trees in the lovely pass were beginning to glow in golden and scarlet hues, when up the glen came the news that a field-preaching was to take place at a spot not very far from Benvourd House. The great out-of-door preachings were not so common in that neighbourhood as in many other parts of the Highlands; and partly from the novelty of the thing, partly from the fame of the preacher, the young, noble-hearted minister, William Burns, Nora desired strongly to go, and her uncle willingly agreed to accompany her.

Brightly shone the sun that day, and every blade of grass and remaining tuft of heather sparkled under its rays, as the party from Benvourd set off to the place of meeting. It was a good way off; but both Nora and her uncle were famous pedestrians, and fully enjoyed the walk on that quiet early Sabbath morn. The impression made on her heart by Minnie's early death had never worn completely off; the longing after higher and more satisfying joys than the world could give was still filling the girl's heart; the soil was soft, prepared, though she knew it not, by the great Creator for the ready reception of the words which, by the lips of his faithful messenger, were to prove that day to many souls the savour of life.

As the party neared the place of meeting, Nora was surprised to see so many people coming in all directions over the moors, where the heather was already turning brown. Across half-reaped fields of golden corn, down the steep hill-sides, they came, all looking eager, though with the calm hush of the Sabbath day about them.

"Uncle, where does all that multitude of people come from?" said Nora, as she looked in amazement at the crowd, as they congregated at the river-side, waiting for the ferry-boat to cross and recross with the many passengers; for the gathering-place was on the opposite side of the river from Benvourd.

Her uncle smiled. "You may well ask that, Nora. The greater number of these people have come from places miles distant, and some must have walked for hours to get here so early. God grant that not mere curiosity has brought them, but a hunger for the bread of life."

Just then the ferry-boat reached the bank of the river where they stood, and Mr. Macleod and his niece stepped into it, along with several others.

"You're getting hard Sabbath work to-day, Sandy," said Mr. Macleod, addressing his old friend the ferryman.

"Ay, ay, sir," was the ready reply, spoken in the Gaelic language; "but it's blessed work too, for if half that we hear is true, it's the Lord's own message that will be given to-day, and na doot many o' Satan's captives will be set free. The ferry work is one o' necessity and mercy, I'm thinking; and the Lord'll no' hold us guilty for doin' that kind o' work on his holy day. Not one penny o' payment will old Sandy take for this work. Yon's a grand sicht, sir."

And as he spoke he pointed to the hill-side, just above the spot where the meeting was to be held. Already it was crowded with people, and the sound of psalm-singing was wafted to the river—

"O come, let us sing to the Lord: Come, let us every one A joyful noise make to the Rock Of our salvation."

Young and old, rich and poor were grouped there, the grass and the heather their carpet, and the blue arched sky their roof, while a small mountain cascade, as it leaped from rock to rock over-canopied by the rowan trees, mingled its music with that of the slight breeze and the chorus of strong voices. The scarlet cloaks and white caps of some of the older women, and the checked shepherd's plaids of the men, all formed a picture that would not soon die out of memory's eye.

But now the preacher stood in their midst, and with a voice of power, and eyes that once seen were never to be forgotten, addressed the crowd.

We will not here write details of that wonderful service, the words of which burned into the very souls of some of the hearers, and by the power of the Holy Spirit changed the lives of many. The subject was the parable of the ten virgins. Five were wise, and five were foolish. Vividly were they described; powerfully the utter folly of those who had lamps, but had no oil in them, was depicted, as having a name to live, yet Satan-bound, Satan-deluded, Satan-possessed. Then the contrast was drawn—the peace and joy of the wise virgins, united to Jesus, and so, with well-filled, clearly-burning lamps, ready when he calls to go into the marriage feast with him.

No mere description can rightly convey the power of that sermon, for every word seemed freighted with the power of the Holy Ghost convicting and converting. Truly the arrows of the Lord pierced sharply that day into the hearts of his enemies, and chain-bound ones groaning under the fetters of the Evil One were freed, and left the meeting, like the Ethiopian of old, "going on their way rejoicing."

And what of Nora? Not even the uncle sitting beside her knew of the conflict in her heart; no spoken words told of the surrender of heart and life into her Saviour's keeping. Yet the Lord of glory knew of it.

And when the long-waiting, patient Emmanuel entered into that young heart by the door which was flung open for his admittance, and took possession, a new song of praise rang through the courts of heaven, and angels, amid the many songs of joy which they sang that day over ransomed souls, did not leave out a special one for the young orphan girl who had passed from death unto life under the preaching of God's own Word at the field-meeting in the lonely Highland glen.

And when Nora lay down to rest that night, there played on her lips a smile of God's own peace, and on her brow, it may be, the angel-host could see the shadow of a crown more beautiful far than any earthly one of gold and rubies. And when, ere many days elapsed, Ronald received a letter from his dearly-beloved sister, telling the glad news of her new-found peace in Jesus, his lips also gave praise to God for the answer to many prayers, both of those who were still on earth and of those who had passed within the veil, yet whose prayers had been laid upon the golden altar, to be answered when the great Answerer of prayer saw fit.

And as Ronald read her account of the words which had pierced her heart, and the description of the preacher of them, he wondered if it could be the same person who, in his Master's name, had enlisted him as a recruit in the army of the Lord of hosts, bound for the great crusade against Satan. In some things the description agreed, in others not; and as he never met on earth again the mysterious stranger, he never knew if indeed it was William Burns who had spoken to him beside the Wishing-Well.