"We sat a long time, and there was no sign of the wolves coming near us. It was very cold, but our furs kept in our warmth. By and by I fell asleep--which was not dangerous so long as I kept warm, and I thought the cold must wake me before it began to numb me. And as "I slept I dreamed; but my dream did not change the place; the forest, the tree I was in, all my surroundings were the same. I even dreamed that I came awake, and saw everything about me just as it was. I seemed to open my eyes, and look about me on the dazzling snow from my perch: I was in a small tree on the border of a little clearing.
"Suddenly, out of the wood to my left, issued something, running fast, but with soundless feet, over the snow. I doubted in my dream whether the object were a live thing or only a shadow. It came nearer, and I saw it was a child, a little girl, running as if for her life. She came straight to the tree I sat in, and when close to it, but without a moment"s halt, looked up, and I saw a sweet little face, white with terror--which somehow seemed, however, not for herself, but for me. I called out after her to stop, and I would take her into the tree beside me, where the wolves could not reach her; but she only shook her head, and ran on over the clearing into the forest. Among the holes I watched the fleeting shape appear and disappear and appear again, until I saw it no more. Then first I heard another kind of howl from the wolves--that of pursuit. It strengthened and swelled, growing nearer and nearer, till at last, through the stillness of the night and the moveless forest and the dead snow, came to my ear a kind of soft rushing sound. I don"t know how to describe it. The rustle of dry leaves is too sharp; it was like a very soft heavy rain on a window--a small dull padding padding: it was the feet of the wolves. They came nearer and grew louder and louder, but the noise was still m.u.f.fled and soft. Their howling, however, was now loud and horrid. I suppose they cannot help howling; if they could, they would have too much power over poor creatures, coming upon them altogether at unawares; but as it is, they tell, whether they will or no, that they are upon the way.
At length, dark as a torrent of pitch, out of the forest flowed a mult.i.tude of obscure things, and streamed away, black over the snow, in the direction the child had taken. They pa.s.sed close to the foot of my tree, but did not even look up, flitting by like a shadow whose substance was unseen. Where the child had vanished they also disappeared: plainly they were after her!
"It was only a dream, mother! don"t be so frightened," interrupted lan, for here his mother gave a little cry, almost forgetting what the narration was.
"Then first," he went on, "I seemed to recover my self-possession. I saw that, though I must certainly be devoured by the wolves, and the child could not escape, I had no choice but go down and follow, do what I could, and die with her. Down I was the same instant, running as I had never run before even in a dream, along the track of the wolves. As I ran, I heard their howling, but it seemed so far off that I could not hope to be in time to kill one of them ere they were upon her. Still, by their howling, it did not appear they had reached her, and I ran on. Their noise grew louder and louder, but I seemed to run miles and miles, wondering what spell was upon me that I could not come up with them. All at once the clamour grew hideous, and I saw them. They were gathered round a tree, in a clearing just like that I had left, and were madly leaping against it, but ever falling back baffled. I looked up: in the top of the tree sat the little girl, her white face looking down upon them with a smile. All the terror had vanished from it. It was still white as the snow, but like the snow was radiating a white light through the dark foliage of the fir. I see it often, mother, so clear that I could paint it.
I was enchanted at the sight. But she was not in safety yet, and I rushed into the heap of wolves, striking and stabbing with my hunting-knife. I got to the tree, and was by her in a moment. But as I took the child in my arms I woke, and knew that it was a dream.
I sat in my own tree, and up against the stem of it broke a howling, surging black wave of wolves. They leaped at the tree-bole as a rock-checked billow would leap. My gun was to my shoulder in a moment, and blazed among them. Howls of death arose. Their companions fell upon the wounded, and ate them up. The tearing and yelling at the foot of the tree was like the tumult of devils full of hate and malice and greed. Then for the first time I thought whether such creatures might not be the open haunts of demons. I do not imagine that, when those our Lord drove out of the man asked permission to go into the swine, they desired anything unheard of before in the demon-world. I think they were not in the way of going into tame animals; but, as they must go out of the man, as they greatly dreaded the abyss of the disembodied, and as no ferocious animals fit to harbour them were near, they begged leave to go into such as were accessible, though unsuitable; whereupon the natural consequence followed: their presence made the poor swine miserable even to madness, and with the instinct of so many maniacs that in death alone lies their deliverance, they rushed straight into the loch."
"It may be so, Ian! But I want to hear how you got away from the wolves."
"I fired and fired; and still they kept rushing on the tree-hole, heaping themselves against it, those behind struggling up on the backs of those next it, in a storm of rage and hunger and jealousy.
Not a few who had just helped to eat some of their fellows, were themselves eaten in turn, and not a sc.r.a.p of them left; but it was a large pack, and it would have taken a long time to kill enough to satisfy those that remained. I killed and killed until my ammunition was gone, and then there was nothing for it but await the light.
When the morning began to dawn, they answered its light with silence, and turning away swept like a shadow back into the wood.
Strange to tell, I heard afterwards that a child had been killed by them in the earlier part of that same night. But even now sometimes, as I lie awake, I grow almost doubtful whether the whole was not a hideous dream.
"Not the less for that was what I went through between the time my powder came to an end and the dawn of the morning, a real spiritual fact.
"In the midst of the howling I grew so sleepy that the horrible noise itself seemed to lull me while it kept me awake, and I fell into a kind of reverie with which my dream came back and mingled. I seemed to be sitting in the tree with the little shining girl, and she was my own soul; and all the wrong things I had in me, and all the wrong things I had done, with all the weaknesses and evil tendencies of my nature, whether mine by fault or by inheritance, had taken shape, and, in the persons of the howling wolves below, were besieging me, to get at me, and devour me. Suddenly my soul was gone. Above were the still, bright stars, shining unmoved; beneath was the white, betraying snow, and the howling wolves; away through the forest was fleeting, ever fleeting, my poor soul, in the likeness of a white-faced child! All at once came a great stillness, as of a desert place, where breathed nor life of man nor life of beast. I was alone, frightfully alone--alone as I had never been before. The creatures at the foot of the tree were still howling, but their cry sounded far away and small; they were in some story I had been reading, not anywhere in my life! I was left and lost--left by whom?--lost by whom?--in the waste of my own being, without stay or comfort. I looked up to the sky; it was infinite--yet only a part of myself, and much too near to afford me any refuge from the desert of my lost self. It came down nearer; the limitless s.p.a.ce came down, and clasped me, and held me. It came close to me--as if I had been a shape off which all nature was taking a mould. I was at once everything and nothing. I cannot tell you how frightful it was! In agony I cried to G.o.d, with a cry of utter despair. I cannot say whether I may believe that he answered me; I know this, that a great quiet fell upon me--but a quiet as of utter defeat and helplessness.
Then again, I cannot tell how, the quiet and the helplessness melted away into a sense of G.o.d--a feeling as if great s.p.a.ce all about me was G.o.d and not emptiness. Wolf nor sin could touch me! I was a wide peace--my very being peace! And in my mind--whether an echo from the Bible, I do not know--were the words:--"I, even I, am he that comforteth thee. I am G.o.d, thy saviour!" Whereas I had seemed all alone, I was with G.o.d, the only withness man can really share! I lifted my eyes; morning was in the east, and the wolves were slinking away over the snow."
How to receive the strange experience the mother did not know. She ought to say something, for she sorely questioned it! Not a word had he spoken belonging to the religion in which she had brought him up, except two--SIN and G.o.d! There was nothing in it about the atonement! She did not see that it was a dream, say rather a vision, of the atonement itself. To Ian her interpretation of the atonement seemed an everlasting and hopeless severance. The patience of G.o.d must surely be far more tried by those who would interpret him, than by those who deny him: the latter speak lies against him, the former speak lies for him! Yet all the time the mother felt as in the presence of some creature of a higher world--one above the ordinary race of men--whom the powers of evil had indeed misled, but perhaps not finally snared. She little thought how near she was to imagining that good may come out of evil--that there is good which is not of G.o.d! She did not yet understand that salvation lies in being one with Christ, even as the branch is one with the vine;--that any salvation short of knowing G.o.d is no salvation at all. What moment a man feels that he belongs to G.o.d utterly, the atonement is there, the son of G.o.d is reaping his harvest.
The good mother was not, however, one of those conceited, stiff-necked, power-loving souls who have been the curse and ruin of the church in all ages; she was but one of those in whom reverence for its pa.s.sing form dulls the perception of unchangeable truth. They shut up G.o.d"s precious light in the horn lantern of human theory, and the lantern casts such shadows on the path to the kingdom as seem to dim eyes insurmountable obstructions. For the sake of what they count revealed, they refuse all further revelation, and what satisfies them is merest famine to the next generation of the children of the kingdom. Instead of G.o.d"s truth they offer man"s theory, and accuse of rebellion against G.o.d such as cannot live on the husks they call food. But ah, home-hungry soul!
thy G.o.d is not the elder brother of the parable, but the father with the best robe and the ring--a G.o.d high above all thy longing, even as the heavens are high above the earth.
CHAPTER XV.
THE GULF THAT DIVIDED.
When Ian ceased, a silence deep as the darkness around, fell upon them. To Ian, the silence seemed the very voice of G.o.d, clear in the darkness; to the mother it was a darkness interpenetrating the darkness; it was a great gulf between her and her boy. She must cry to him aloud, but what should she cry? If she did not, an opportunity, perhaps the last, on which hung eternal issues, would be gone for ever! Each moment"s delay was a disobedience to her conscience, a yielding to love"s sinful reluctance! With "sick a.s.say" she heaved at the weight on her heart, but not a word would come. If Ian would but speak again, and break the spell of the terrible stillness! She must die in eternal wrong if she did not speak! But no word would come. Something in her would not move. It was not in her brain or her lips or her tongue, for she knew all the time she could speak if she would. The caitiff will was not all on the side of duty! She was not FOR the truth!--could she then be OF the truth? She did not suspect a divine reluctance to urge that which was not good.
Not always when the will works may we lay hold of it in the act: somehow, she knew not how, she heard herself speaking.
"Are you sure it was G.o.d, Ian?" she said.
The voice she heard was weak and broken, reedy and strained, like the voice of one all but dead.
"No, mother," answered Ian, "but I hope it was."
"Hopes, my dear hoy, are not to be trusted."
"That is true, mother; and yet we are saved by hope."
"We are saved by faith."
"I do not doubt it."
"You rejoice my heart. But faith in what?"
"Faith in G.o.d, mother."
"That will not save you."
"No, but G.o.d will."
"The devils believe in G.o.d, and tremble."
"I believe in the father of Jesus Christ, and do not tremble."
"You ought to tremble before an unreconciled G.o.d."
"Like the devils, mother?"
"Like a sinful child of Adam. Whatever your fancies, Ian, G.o.d will not hear you, except you pray to him in the name of his Son."
"Mother, would you take my G.o.d from me? Would you blot him out of the deeps of the universe?"
"Ian! are you mad? What frightful things you would lay to my charge!"
"Mother, I would gladly--oh how gladly! perish for ever, to save G.o.d from being the kind of G.o.d you would have me believe him. I love G.o.d, and will not think him other than good. Rather than believe he does not hear every creature that cries to him, whether he knows Jesus Christ or not, I would believe there was no G.o.d, and go mourning to my grave."
"That is not the doctrine of the gospel."
"It is, mother: Jesus himself says, "Every one that hath heard and learned of the Father, cometh unto me.""
"Why then do you not come to him, Ian?"
"I do come to him; I come to him every day. I believe in n.o.body but him. He only makes the universe worth being, or any life worth living!"
"Ian, I can NOT understand you! If you believe like that about him,--"
"I don"t believe ABOUT him, mother! I believe in him. He is my life."
"We will not dispute about words! The question is, do you place your faith for salvation in the sufferings of Christ for you?"
"I do not, mother. My faith is in Jesus himself, not in his sufferings."
"Then the anger of G.o.d is not turned away from you."
"Mother, I say again--I love G.o.d, and will not believe such things of him as you say. I love him so that I would rather lose him than believe so of him."
"Then you do not accept the Bible as your guide?"