It was a very heavy heart that she carried that day. There was no
unbelief; that demon was conquered. Instead there was an overpowering,
terrible _certainty_. And now came Satan with the whole of her past life
which had turned to sin before her, and hurled it on her poor shrinking
shoulders, until she felt almost to faint beneath the load; she lay
miserably on her bed, and thought that she would not add to her burden
by going to the service, that she knew already too much. But an appeal
from Flossy to keep her company, as the others had gone, had the effect
of changing her mind.

Armed each with a camp-chair, they made their way to the stand, after
the great congregation were seated. A fortunate thought those
camp-chairs had been; there was not a vacant seat anywhere.

Marion placed her chair out of sight both of stand and speaker, but
within hearing, and gave herself up to her own troubled thoughts, until
the opening exercises were concluded and the preacher announced his
text: "The place that is called Calvary."

She roused a little and tried to determine whose voice it was, it had a
familiar sound, but she could not be sure, and she tried to go back to
the useless questionings of her own heart; but she could not. She could
never be deaf to eloquence; whoever the speaker was, there was that in
his very opening sentences which roused and held her. Whatever he had to
say, whether or not it was anything that had to do with her, she _must_
listen. Still the wonderment existed as to which voice it was.

But when he reached the sentences: "Jump the ages! Come down here to
Chautauqua Lake to-day, O Son of God! O Son of Man! O Son of Mary! When