MISS IRVINE'S mission-room was a bright, cheerful place, and was very prettily decorated for the festive occasion. Texts cut out in red and in white paper, and wreaths of holly and ivy ornamented the walls; and the long tables, covered with white cloths, were spread with a most beautiful repast, which was arranged as prettily and tastefully as if it had been set out for a wedding breakfast.
The guests had all arrived when we went in, and were sitting at the tables, quietly admiring all around them. Poor tired mothers, many of them with babies in their arms; husbands, whose faces bore marks of care and toil, and many of whom showed plainly that drink and sin were bearing them down, and ruining their health and their homes; children, with pinched and unchildlike faces, were all gathered round the pretty tea-tables, looking forward to a happy evening in their unhappy lives. Most of the men were in working clothes, for they possessed no other's in which to come; but they had all made themselves as clean and tidy as they could, and seemed shyly and quietly happy.
They began to feel more at their ease when a blessing was asked, the tea was poured out, and we all sat down together. Then the tongues began to be busy and their poor, careworn faces looked glad and happy.
Lord Moreton was there, working busily, looking after the wants of every one of the poor people, and talking pleasantly to them all the time. He was a tall man, with dark hair; and I thought him very handsome indeed, in spite of the slight cast in his eye of which Evelyn had complained so much. But it was so very slight that it was not at all unpleasant, and I wondered that she had considered it such a drawback to his face.
He came up to us as soon as we entered the room, and seemed very pleased to meet Sir William and Evelyn. But we had little time for conversation till the work of the evening was over.
After tea came Lord Moreton's address. It was very simple, and very much to the point, and I could see that the poor people felt it. He spoke to them of the love of Jesus, and how He was longing and yearning to save them; how He was following them like the shepherd after the lost sheep, seeking them by night, seeking them by day, seeking them in sickness, seeking them in health, seeking them in their sin and trouble and misery, ever seeking them, ever longing for them to turn round and let Him find them.
And then Lord Moreton begged them to turn round to Him that very night, to leave drink behind, to leave sin behind, to leave shame behind, to turn their back on Satan and all his ways, to turn round to the Good Shepherd, and to say to Him, "Lord Jesus, save me."
There were very few dry eyes when Lord Moreton had finished. He did not show his nervousness at all when he was speaking. I fancied that his hand trembled a little, but his voice was clear and steady, and he spoke so naturally and unaffectedly that you forgot the man altogether, and became engrossed only with what he was saying. There was something in his quiet, persuasive, pleading manner which it would require a hard heart to withstand. I could see that Evelyn felt it very much, though she made no remark upon it afterwards.
When the poor people had left, and only the helpers remained in the room, we had more time for conversation. Then, for the first time, I saw that Lord Moreton was indeed a very nervous man. He was so shy and reserved when he first came up to us, that I could hardly believe he was the man who had spoken so easily and naturally to the poor people.
But Sir William soon set him at ease, by telling him of our journey to the East, and of some of our adventures whilst we were there.