“Bring him in, Mr. Macdonald,” replied the father, gravely and steadily. “Bring him in. It is the Lord; let Him do what seemeth Him good.”
Then six of the Macdonald men came forward from the darkness, Curly and Yankee leading the way, and lifted the coffin from Farquhar's wagon, and reverently, with heads uncovered, they followed the torches to the door. There they stopped suddenly, for as they reached the threshold, there arose a low, long, heart-smiting cry from within. At the sound of that cry Ranald staggered as if struck by a blow, and let his torch fall to the ground. The bearers waited, looking at each other in fear.
“Whisht, Janet, woman!” said Long John, gravely. “Your son is at the door.”
“Ah, indeed, that he is, that he is! My son! My son!”
She stood in the doorway with hands uplifted and with tears streaming down her face. “Come in, Malcolm; come in, my boy. Your mother is waiting for you.”
Then they carried him in and laid him in the “room,” and retiring to the kitchen, sat down to watch the night.
In half an hour the father came out and found them there.
“You have done what you could, Mr. Macdonald,” he said, addressing him for all, “and I will not be unmindful of your kindness. But now you can do no more. Your wife and your people will be waiting you.”
“And, please God, in good time they will be seeing us. As for me, I will neither go to my home nor up into my bed, but I will watch by the man who was my faithful friend and companion till he is laid away.”
And in this mind he and his men remained firm, taking turns at the watching all that night and the next day.
As Macdonald finished speaking, the minister came into the kitchen, bringing with him the mother and the children. The men all rose to their feet, doing respect to the woman and to her grief. When they were seated again, the minister rose and said: “My friends, this is a night for silence and not for words. The voice of the Lord is speaking in our ears. It becomes us to hear, and to submit ourselves to His holy will. Let us pray.”
As Ranald listened to the prayer, he could not help thinking how different it was from those he was accustomed to hear from the pulpit. Solemn, simple, and direct, it lifted the hearts of all present up to the throne of God, to the place of strength and of peace. There was no attempt to explain the “mystery of the Providence,” but there was a sublime trust that refused to despair even in the presence of impenetrable darkness.