cried, in a soul-thrilling voice, "I see heaven open, and
Jesus standing at the right hand of God, and I hear a voice, 'Turn ye,
turn ye. Why will ye die?' Lord Jesus, they will not turn." Again he
paused. "Listen. Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire.
Depart ye! Nay, Lord Jesus! not so! Have mercy upon us!" His voice broke
in its passionate cry. The effect was overwhelming. The people swayed
as trees before a mighty wind, and a voice cried aloud from the
congregation: "God be merciful to me, a sinner!"

It was Macdonald Dubh. At that loud cry, women began to sob, and some of
the people rose from their seats.

"Be still," commanded the minister. "Rend your hearts and not your
garments. Let us pray." And as he prayed, the cries and sobs subsided
and a great calm fell upon all. After prayer, the minister, instead of
giving out a closing psalm, solemnly charged the people to go to their
homes and to consider that the Lord had come very near them, and adjured
them not to grieve the Holy Spirit of God. Then he dismissed them with
the benediction.

The people went out of the church, subdued and astonished, speaking, if
at all, in low tones of what they had seen and heard.

Immediately after pronouncing the benediction, the minister came down to
find Macdonald Dubh, but he was nowhere to be seen. Toward evening Mrs.
Murray rode over to his house, but found that he had not returned from
the morning service.

"He will be at his brother's," said Kirsty, "and Ranald will drive over
for him."

Immediately Ranald hitched up Lisette and drove over to his uncle's, but
as he was returning he sent in word to the manse, his face being not yet
presentable, that his father was nowhere to be found. It was Macdonald
Bhain that found him at last in the woods, prone upon his face, and in
an agony.

"Hugh, man," he cried, "what ails you?" But there were only low groans
for answer.

"Rise up, man, rise up and come away."

Then from the prostrate figure he caught the words, "Depart from me!
Depart from me! That is the word of the Lord."

"That is not the word," said Macdonald Bhain, "for any living man,
but for the dead. But come, rise, man; the neighbors will be here in a
meenute." At that Black Hugh rose.

"Let me away," he said. "Let me not see them. I am a lost man."

And so his brother brought him home, shaken in spirit and exhausted in
body with his long fast and his overpowering emotion. All night through
his b