"Terrible! ay, terrible's the word.Lad, lad," said the old lady, turning upon Brown her piercing blue-grey eyes, "in the old Mullin Church I have seen the very rafters throbbing, and strong men and women swaying like the tree-tops in the glen while Burns was raging forth upon them like the Tummel in spate, while visions of the eternal things--the throne of God and the Judgment Day--filled our eyes." She paused a few moments and then sinking back into her chair she went on, "Ay, terrible preaching, yon, like the storm-blast sweeping the hillsides and rending the firs in the Pass.Yes! yes!
But gentle at times and winning, like the rain falling soft at night, wooing at the bluebells and the daisies in the glen, or like a mother croonin over the babe at her breast, till men wept for love and longing after Himself.Ay, lad, lad, yon was the preaching."There was a long silence while they waited for her to continue.
"What was that sermon, mother, at Mullin that time upon the words 'Will ye also go away?' you remember?" at length asked Shock cunningly.
His mother sighed."Ay, and that was a sairmon to draw the heart out o' you.That was the melting day, while the big men gripped their sticks hard and the women wiped at their eyes that would never be done running, and that man's voice soughing over them like the wind in the pines in the evening, Yes! yes! But," suddenly recalling herself, "come, lads, you must be off to your books."The young men sat a few moments silently gazing into the fire, and then Brown rose and said, "Good-night, mother.You're the greatest preacher I know, and I would not mind a whole hour from you." His voice was earnest and his eyes soft and tender as he stooped and kissed her cheek.
"Good-night, laddie," answered Mrs.Macgregor, patting his hand gently."I doubt, after all, the fault nowadays is not with the preaching so much as with the hearing.""Well, I'm off.You will see me to-morrow with my flock of straying sheep.But I warn you that after you hear that man from the West you will all be volunteering as missionaries."The old lady took up her knitting again and after the door had closed upon Brown sat back in her chair with a weary sigh.
"You're tired to-night, mother," said Shock gently.
"Tired? And what for would I be tired? No, no, but the day is long.""Yes, some days, mother.But the longest pass."She glanced quickly at her son, but save for a quivering of the lips usually so firm, there was no sign of the pain which both knew lay at the heart of each.Her mood of impatience had passed.She was once more herself, calm and strong, looking with steadfast eyes into the future, knowing well that whatever the days might bring, He who for fifty years had been her refuge and her strength would not fail her.
The appeal for the West was the theme of conversation at the Fairbanks home, where the usual company had assembled.The Don was describing the Superintendent's address at the College and thrilling his listeners with his own enthusiasm, when Brown entered.
"Hello! At it again?" cried Brown."If he doesn't avoid that fiery cross fellow, The Don will be off for the West first thing you know.""Tell us," cried Betty, "was he as great as all that? Mr.Balfour here would have us believe that this Western man is really something wonderful.""Well, I don't know," said Brown."You never think of whether he is wonderful or not, but one thing I know, he makes you see things--the mountains and that foot-hill country, the mining camps and all that saloon and gambling-hell business, till you can smell the brimstone and you want to be in it.""What? Into the brimstone?" laughed Lloyd.
"I am rather incoherent, I confess.But that old chap suits me.If Iwere a Theologue, and unattached, I'd be there.""There's no doubt it is a great country, with vast opportunities,"said The Don, glancing at Betty.
"Yes," said Mrs.Fairbanks, frowning as she noted the glance, "and doubtless any young man who has the necessary enterprise and courage will make his fortune with the growth of that country.""But why unattached? What do you mean by that?" enquired Betty.
"Unattached? Why, you know, just like me--a man with no family ties to speak of.Did you tell them that yarn, Lloyd? Well, I'll tell you.You know the Superintendent was telling the fellows of the difficulty he had in securing men.Well, he managed to get a man from an Eastern College whom he appointed to the Cariboo--right sort of chap, too, apparently--accepted the appointment--everything was arranged--happened, however, he was engaged to a young lady brought up in the lap of luxury, and that sort of thing.When she heard of her young man being appointed to this outlandish place, she promptly collapsed into a faint, sister went into hysterics, mother into a blind rage, result--young man resigned.'So you see, gentlemen,'
said the old chap dryly, 'when you have to consider the tastes and temperament, not only of the young man, but of his young lady and of all her near family relatives, the difficulty of securing men for the West is sensibly increased.""I think that is just horrid of him," exclaimed Betty indignantly.
"The young lady ought to be consulted.Don't you think so?" turning to Lloyd.
"Why certainly, and yet--"
"Most assuredly," said Mrs.Fairbanks."Would you ask a young lady to go out and bury herself alive in such a country as that, or ask her to wait an indefinite number of years till the young man should return? Why it is simply monstrous." And Mrs.Fairbanks fixed her glasses firmly on her nose and gazed at Brown as if she would annihilate him.
"Why certainly I would," replied Brown, quite unabashed; "and if she loved me," placing his hand over his heart, "she would be glad to do either.I would simply remark, 'My love, I'm off for Greenland.'
