Next day, through Dr. Harry Guinness, who was her host, she was invited to address that house-party. Another preacher who was present has recorded his impressions. "After tea we all gathered our chairs in a circle round her as she opened up some sacred chapters in her life. Hour after hour sped. No one thought of moving to go to the Tent meetings. There we sat spellbound, through a long evening, feeling we had never come across such a being before. This was the first of many such meetings, to which as many outsiders were invited as the large drawing-room could hold. What evenings these were! Highland worthies sat gazing at her with open-mouthed wonder, held by her witchery, her strange tales from actual life, by her wisdom and pathos. Her voice, rich and sweet, sometimes fell to dreamy cadences, and sometimes rose to the bugling of a gale. It thrilled people and it melted them. Her eyes were wonderful. Sometimes they rested on one person in the audience with a soft and appealing look; then they gleamed and blazed with holy passion. Her long arms with their fine tapering fingers—how they helped to express her mind! But it was the face that was the great exponent, and as emotions played on her own mobile features she also touched the deep chords of every minister's heart. What struck us most was the access she won to the hearts of penitents. The mother-love in her was so deep and real that we all felt as if we, too, could give her our sacred confidences. A favourite word of hers was from St. Augustine, 'Love, and do as you like,' and every man in our company felt she was a living illustration of it. Her beautiful and choice language, simple, fresh, exquisitely fitting, and used with superb ease and mastery, was a constant amazement. She never attempted addresses or expositions, but her talks, for no other name would she apply, were now and again gemmed with texts which came as with a flash of diamonds, flaming."
Thus she revealed herself to men who know that the care of all cares is the "cure" of souls—cura curarum cura animarum. She warned them that the "apostolic life," the most Christ-like of all vocations, is only for those who are willing to "fill up that which is lacking of the sufferings of Christ." Prayer and fasting, love and sacrifice, real asceticism combined with joyful enthusiasm are the conditions of success in the never-ending warfare with evil. The world will always be a broad field of battle. But the living Christ gives so much of His real presence that His service is liberty and His rewards are sure. No breath of human praise can compare with the fervent and life-long gratitude which souls rescued from the powers of darkness bear to their deliverer. Since the Maréchale laid aside the French language—-perhaps only for a time—and resumed her mother-tongue, she has received literally thousands of English letters from both continents testifying to blessings received through her ministry. I here give a few carefully selected extracts from these letters with a few words of introduction.
One Sunday morning, as the Maréchale was about to address a large congregation, the minister whispered to her: "You see those two young ladies in black, if you can do anything with them, it would be a miracle."
In one of the after-meetings of the mission, the Maréchale approached the elder of these ladies and ventured to speak with her, but intense reserve on her part made conversation impossible. A cloud of utter despair seemed to have settled on her spirit. The look in her eyes revealed sorrow too deep for words.
This is her story:
"At twelve o'clock one night I was returning home from business with my mother and only sister. I found the body of my father hanging in the corridor! I was so horrified that for a moment I could not move, then, recovering my presence of mind, I put out the lights and called my mother and sister to another door, just in time to prevent them seeing the sight. But I can never forget it!
"Then my mother's health broke down, and for four years I faithfully watched and cared for her.
"During this second painful trial I received the startling news that my dearest and only brother had met with a serious accident while driving his own automobile. On arriving at the hospital in all haste I was met with the words, 'Too late.' He was gone! The scene which followed is too terrible for me to speak of. We adored him! The effects of the shock hastened my mother's death. We said good-bye to her, and oh, the recollection of it haunts me still.
"After my mother's death my sister and I left the house of tragedy, broken down with sorrow and grief. These blows were beyond my powers of endurance. In vain did I seek some ray of comfort. Then I grew careless! Wine began to get a hold on me; and I sank into depths of despair, of which you only know. I really thought there was no God, and contemplated ending my own existence.
"Through it all the Lord was looking down in tender compassion and love. He sent you at this critical time in my sad career.