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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Second Coming, by Richard Marsh
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Second Coming
+
+Author: Richard Marsh
+
+Release Date: November 28, 2011 [EBook #38156]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SECOND COMING ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+   1. Page scan source:
+      http://books.google.com/books?id=RHYXAAAAYAAJ
+
+
+
+
+
+
+          Canvasback library of Popular Fiction. Volume IX
+
+
+
+
+
+                           A Second Coming
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                          _A SECOND COMING_
+
+
+
+                                 _BY_
+                            RICHARD MARSH
+
+
+
+
+                    _JOHN LANE: THE BODLEY HEAD_
+                      _NEW YORK & LONDON MCMIV_
+
+
+
+
+
+                           Copyright, 1900
+                             By John Lane
+
+
+
+
+
+
+'If,' asked the Man in the Street, 'Christ were to come again to
+London, in this present year of grace, how would He be received, and
+what would happen?'
+
+'I will try to show you,' replied the Scribe.
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+These following pages represent the Scribe's attempt to achieve the
+impossible.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+
+                     I. THE TALES WHICH WERE TOLD
+
+      CHAPTER
+
+          I. THE INTERRUPTED DINNER.
+
+         II. THE WOMAN AND THE COATS.
+
+        III. THE WORDS OF THE PREACHER.
+
+         IV. THE CHILDREN'S MOTHER.
+
+          V. THE OPERATION.
+
+         VI. THE BLACKLEG.
+
+        VII. IN PICCADILLY.
+
+       VIII. THE ONLY ONE THAT WAS LEFT.
+
+         IX. THE FIRST DISCIPLE.
+
+          X. THE DEPUTATION.
+
+         XI. THE SECOND DISCIPLE.
+
+
+
+                      II. THE TUMULT WHICH AROSE
+
+        XII. THE CHARCOAL-BURNER.
+
+       XIII. A TRIUMPHAL ENTRY.
+
+        XIV. THE WORDS OF THE WISE.
+
+         XV. THE SUPPLICANT.
+
+        XVI. IN THE MORNING.
+
+       XVII. THE MIRACLE OF HEALING.
+
+      XVIII. THE YOUNG MAN.
+
+
+
+                    III. THE PASSION OF THE PEOPLE
+
+        XIX. THE HUNT AND THE HOME.
+
+         XX. THEY THAT WOULD ASK WITH A THREAT.
+
+        XXI. THE ASKING.
+
+       XXII. A SEMINARY PRIEST.
+
+      XXIII. AND THE CHILD.
+
+
+
+
+
+                                  I
+
+                      The Tales which were Told
+
+
+
+
+                           A Second Coming
+
+                              CHAPTER I
+
+                        THE INTERRUPTED DINNER
+
+
+He stood at the corner of the table with his hat and overcoat on,
+just as he had rushed into the room.
+
+'Christ has come again!'
+
+The servants were serving the entrees. Their breeding failed them.
+They stopped to stare at Chisholm. The guests stared too, those at
+the end leaning over the board to see him better. He looked like a
+man newly startled out of dreaming, blinking at the lights and
+glittering table array. His hat was a little on one side of his head.
+He was hot and short of breath, as if he had been running. They
+regarded him as a little bewildered, while he, on his part, looked
+back at them as if they were the creatures of a dream.
+
+'Christ has come again!'
+
+He repeated the words in a curious, tremulous, sobbing voice, which
+was wholly unlike his own.
+
+Conversation had languished. Just before his entrance there had been
+one of those prolonged pauses which, to an ambitious hostess, are as
+a sound of doom. The dinner bade fair to be a failure. If people will
+not talk, to offer them to eat is vain. Criticism takes the place of
+appetite. Amplett looked, for him, bad-tempered. He was leaning back
+in his chair, smiling wryly at the wineglass which he was twiddling
+between his fingers. His wife, on the contrary, sat very upright--
+with her an ominous sign. She looked straight in front of her, with a
+tender softness in her glance which only to those who did not know
+her suggested paradise. Over the whole table there was an air of
+vague depression, an irresistible tendency to be bored.
+
+Chisholm's unceremonious entry created a diversion. It filliped the
+atmosphere. Amplett's bad temper vanished on the instant.
+
+'Hollo, Hugh! thought you weren't coming. Sit down, man; in your coat
+and hat if you like, only do sit down!'
+
+Chisholm eyed him as if not quite certain that it was he who was
+being spoken to, or who the speaker was. There was that about his
+bearing which seemed to have a singular effect upon his host.
+Amplett, leaning farther over the table, called to him in short,
+sharp tones:
+
+'Why do you stand and look like that? What's the matter?'
+
+'Christ has come again!'
+
+As he repeated the words for the third time, there was in his voice a
+note of exultation which was in odd dissonance with what was
+generally believed to be his character. The self-possession for which
+he was renowned seemed to have wholly deserted him. Something seemed
+to have shaken his nature to its depths; he who was used to declare
+that life could offer nothing which was of interest to him.
+
+People glanced at each other, and at the strange-looking man at the
+end of the table. Was he mad or drunk? As if in answer to their
+glances he stretched out his hands a little in front of him, saying:
+
+'It is true! It is true! Christ has come again! I have come from His
+presence here to you!'
+
+Mrs. Amplett's voice rang out sharply:
+
+'Hugh, what is the matter with you? Are you insane?'
+
+'I was insane. Now I am wise. I know, for I have seen. I have been
+among the first to see.'
+
+There was something in his manner which affected them strangely. A
+wildness, an exultation, an intensity! If it had not been so entirely
+out of keeping with the man's everyday disposition it might not have
+seemed so curious. But those who knew him best were moved most. They
+were aware that his nerves were not easily affected; that something
+extraordinary must have occurred to have produced this bearing.
+Clement Fordham rose from his chair and went to him.
+
+'Come, Hugh, tell me what's wrong outside.'
+
+He made as if to slip his arm through Chisholm's, who would have none
+of it. He held Fordham off with hand extended.
+
+'Thank you, Fordham, but for the present I'll stay here. I am not
+mad, nor have I been drinking. I'm as sober and as sane as you.'
+
+A voice came down the table, Bertie Vaughan's. In it there was a ring
+of laughter:
+
+'Tell us, Chisholm, what you've seen.'
+
+'I will tell you.'
+
+Chisholm removed his hat, as if suddenly remembering that he had it
+on. He rested the brim against the edge of the table, looking down
+the two rows of faces towards Amplett at the end. Mrs. Amplett
+interposed:
+
+'Hadn't you better sit down, Hugh, and have something to eat? The
+entrees are getting cold. Or you might tell your story after we've
+finished dinner. Hunger magnifies; wonders grow less when one has
+dined.'
+
+There was a chorus of dissentient voices.
+
+'No, no, Mrs. Amplett. Let him tell his story now.'
+
+'I will tell it to you now.'
+
+The hostess gave way. Chisholm told his tale. He riveted his
+auditors' attention. The servants listened openly.
+
+'I walked here. As you know, the night is fine, and I thought the
+stroll would do me good. As I was passing through Bryanston Square a
+man came round the corner on a bicycle. The road has recently been
+watered, and is still wet and greasy. His tyre must have skidded, or
+something, because he entirely lost control of his machine, and went
+dashing into the hydrant which stands by the kerb. He was moving
+pretty fast, and as it came into contact with the hydrant his machine
+was splintered, and he was pitched over the handle-bar heavily on to
+his head. He was some fifteen or twenty yards from where I was. I
+went to him as rapidly as I could, but by the time I reached him he
+was already dead.'
+
+'Dead!'
+
+The word came in a sort of chorus from half a dozen throats.
+
+'Dead,' repeated Chisholm.
+
+'Are you sure that he was dead?'
+
+The question came from Amplett.
+
+'Certain. He was a very unpleasant sight. He must have fallen with
+more violence even than I had supposed. His skull was shattered. He
+must have come down on it on the hard road, and then twisted over on
+to his back. He was a big, heavy man, and the wrench which he had
+given himself in rolling over had broken his neck. I was so
+astonished to find him dead, and at the spectacle which he presented,
+that for a second or two I was at a loss as to what steps I ought to
+take. No other person was in the square, and, so far as I could
+judge, the accident had not been witnessed from either of the
+windows. While I hesitated, on a sudden I was conscious that someone
+was at my side.'
+
+He stopped as if to take breath. There came a rain of questions.
+
+'Someone? What do you mean by someone?'
+
+'I will try and tell you exactly what I saw. It is not easy. I am yet
+too near--fresh from the Presence.'
+
+He clasped his hands a little more tightly on the brim of his hat,
+then closed his eyes for a second or two, opening them to look
+straight down the table, as if endeavouring to bring well within the
+focus of his vision something which was there.
+
+'I was looking down at the dead man as he lay there in an ugly heap,
+conscious that I was due for dinner, and wondering what steps I ought
+to take. I felt no interest in him--none whatever; neither his living
+nor his dying was anything to me. My chief feeling was one of
+annoyance that he should have chosen that moment to fall dead right
+in my path; it was an unwarrantable intrusion of his affairs into
+mine. As I stood, I knew that someone was on his other side, looking
+down at him with me. And I was afraid--yes, I was afraid.'
+
+The speaker had turned pale--the pallor of fear had come upon the
+cheeks of the man whose imperturbable courage had been proved a
+hundred times. His voice sank lower.
+
+'For some moments I continued with eyes cast down; I did not dare to
+look up. At last, when my pulse grew a little calmer, I ventured to
+raise my eyes. On the other side of the dead bicyclist was one who
+was in the figure of a man. I knew that it was Christ.'
+
+He spoke with an accent of intense conviction, the like of which his
+hearers had never heard from the lips of anyone before. It was as
+though Chisholm spoke with the faith which can move mountains. Those
+who listened were perforce dumb.
+
+'His glance met mine. I knew myself to be the thing I was. I was
+ashamed. He pointed to the body lying in the roadway, saying: "Your
+brother sleeps?" I could not answer. Seeing that I was silent, He
+spoke again: "Are you not of one spirit and of one flesh? I come to
+wake your brother out of slumber." He inclined His hand towards the
+dead man, saying: "Arise, you who sleep." Immediately he that was
+dead stood up. He seemed bewildered, and exclaimed as in a fit of
+passion: "That's a nice spill. Curse the infernal slippery road!"
+Then he turned and saw Who was standing at his side. As he did so, he
+burst into a storm of tears, crying like a child; and when he cried,
+He that had been there was not. The bicyclist and I were alone
+together.'
+
+A pause followed Chisholm's words.
+
+'And then what happened?'
+
+The query came from Mrs. Amplett.
+
+'Nothing happened. I hurried off as fast as I could, for I was still
+afraid, and left the bicyclist sobbing in the roadway.'
+
+There was another interval of silence, until Gregory Hawkes, putting
+his eyeglass in its place, fixedly regarded Chisholm.
+
+'Are we to accept this as a sober narrative of actual fact,
+or--where's the joke?'
+
+'I have told you the truth. Christ has come again!'
+
+'Christ in Bryanston Square!'
+
+Mr. Hawkes's tone was satirical.
+
+'Yes, Christ in Bryanston Square. Why not in Bryanston Square if on
+the hill of Calvary? Is not this His own city?'
+
+'His own city!'
+
+Again there was the satiric touch.
+
+One of the servants, dropping a dish, began to excuse himself.
+
+'Pardon me, sir, but I'm a Seventh-Day Christian, and I've been
+looking for the Second Coming these three years now, and more.
+Hearing from Mr. Chisholm that it's come at last has made me feel a
+little nervous.'
+
+Mrs. Amplett turned to the butler.
+
+'Goss, let the servants leave the room.'
+
+They went, as if they bore their tails between their legs, some with
+the entrée dishes still in their hands.
+
+'I wish,' murmured Bertie Vaughan,' that this little incident could
+have been conveniently postponed till after we had dined.'
+
+Arthur Warton, of St. Ethelburga's, showed signs of disapprobation.
+
+'I believe that I am as broad-minded a priest as you will easily
+find, but there are seasons at which certain topics should not be
+touched upon. Without wishing in any way to thrust forward my
+clerical office, I would point out to Mr. Chisholm that this
+assuredly is one.'
+
+'Is there then a season at which Christ should not come again?'
+
+'Mr. Chisholm!'
+
+'Or in which He should not restore the dead to life?'
+
+'I should not wish to disturb the harmony of the gathering,
+Mr. Amplett, but I am afraid the--eh--circumstances are
+not--eh--fortuitous. I cannot sit here and allow my sacred office to
+be mocked.'
+
+'Mocked! Is it to mock your sacred office to spread abroad the news
+that He has come again? I am fresh from His presence, and tell you
+so--you that claim to be His priest.'
+
+Fordham, who had been standing by him all the time, came a little
+closer.
+
+'Come, Hugh, let's get out of this, you and I, and talk over things
+quietly together.'
+
+Again Chisholm kept him from him with his outstretched hand.
+
+'In your tone, Fordham, more even than in your words, there
+is suggestion. Of what? that I am mad? You have known me
+all my life. Have I struck you as being of the stuff which
+makes for madness? As a victim of hysteria? As a subject of
+hallucinations? As a liar? I am as sane as you, as clear-headed, as
+matter-of-fact, as truthful. I tell you, in very truth and very deed,
+that to-night I have seen Christ hard by here in the square.'
+
+'My dear fellow, these people have come here to dine.'
+
+'Is, then, dinner more than Christ?'
+
+Smiling his easy, tolerant smile, Fordham touched Chisholm lightly
+with his fingers on the arm.
+
+'My very dear old chap, this sort of thing is so awfully unlike you,
+don't you know?'
+
+'You, also, will be changed when you have seen Christ. Fordham, I
+have seen Christ!'
+
+The intensity of his utterance seemed to strike his hearers a blow.
+The women shivered, turning pale--even those who were painted. Mr.
+Warton leaned across the table towards Mrs. Amplett.
+
+'I really think that you ladies had better retire. Our friend seems
+to be in a curious mood.'
+
+The hostess nodded. She rose from her seat, looking very queerly at
+Mr. Chisholm, for whom her penchant is well known. The other women
+followed her example. The rustling concourse fluttered from the room,
+the Incumbent of St. Ethelburga holding the door open to let them
+pass, and himself bringing up the rear. The laymen were left alone
+together, Chisholm and Fordham standing at the head of the table
+with, on their faces, such very different expressions.
+
+The host seemed snappish.
+
+'You see what you've done? I offer you my congratulations, Mr.
+Chisholm. I don't know if you call the sort of thing with which you
+have been favouring us good form.'
+
+'Is good form more than Christ?'
+
+Amplett made an impatient sound with his lips. He stood up.
+
+'Upon my word of honour, Mr. Chisholm, you must be either drunk or
+mad. I trust, for your own sake, that you are merely mad. Come,
+gentlemen, let's join the ladies.'
+
+The men quitted the room in a body. Only Clement Fordham stayed with
+his friend. Chisholm watched them as they went. Then, when the last
+had gone and the door was closed, he turned to his companion.
+
+'Yet it is the truth that this night I have seen Christ!'
+
+The other laughed.
+
+'Then, in that case, let's hope that you won't see much more of Him--
+no impiety intended, I assure you. Now let you and me take our two
+selves away.'
+
+He slipped his arm through his friend's. As they were about to move,
+the door opened and a servant entered. It was the man who had dropped
+the dish. He approached Chisholm with stuttering tongue.
+
+'Pardon me, sir, if I seem to take a liberty, but might I ask if the
+Second Coming has really come at last? As a Seventh-Day Christian
+it's a subject in which I take an interest, and the fact is that
+there's a difference of opinion between my wife and me as to whether
+it's to be this year or next.'
+
+The man bore ignorance on his countenance written large, and worse.
+Hugh Chisholm turned from him with repugnance.
+
+'He's your brother,' whispered Fordham in his ear, as they moved
+towards the door.
+
+The expression of Hugh Chisholm's face was stern.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II
+
+                       THE WOMAN AND THE COATS
+
+
+Mr. Davis looked about him with bloodshot eyes. His battered bowler
+was perched rakishly on the back of his head, and his hands were
+thrust deep into his trousers pockets. He did not seem to find the
+aspect of the room enlivening. His wife, standing at a small oblong
+deal table, was making a parcel of two black coats to which she had
+just been giving the finishing stitches. The man, the woman, the
+table, and the coats, practically represented the entire contents of
+the apartment.
+
+The fact appeared to cause Mr. Davis no slight dissatisfaction. His
+bearing, his looks, his voice, all betrayed it.
+
+'I want some money,' he observed.
+
+'Then you'll have to want,' returned his wife.
+
+'Ain't you got none?'
+
+'No, nor shan't have, not till I've took these two coats in.'
+
+'Then what'll it be?'
+
+'You know very well what it'll be--three-and-six--one-and-nine
+apiece--if there ain't no fines.'
+
+'And this is what they call the land of liberty, the 'ome of the
+free, where people slave and slave--for one-and-nine.'
+
+Mr. Davis seemed conscious that the conclusion of his sentence was
+slightly impotent, and spat on the floor as if to signify his regret.
+
+''Tain't much slaving you do, anyhow.'
+
+'No, nor it ain't much I'm likely to do; I'm no servile wretch; I'm
+free-born.'
+
+'Prefers to make your living off me, you do.'
+
+'Well, and why not? Ain't woman the inferior animal? Didn't Nature
+mean it to be her pride to minister to man? Ain't it only the false
+veneer of a rotten civilization what's upset all that? If I gives my
+talents for the good of the species, as I do do, as is well known I
+do do, ain't it only right that you should give me something in
+return, if it's only a crust and water? Ain't that law and justice--
+natural law, mind you, and natural justice?'
+
+'I don't know nothing about law, natural or otherwise, but I do know
+it ain't justice.'
+
+Mr. Davis looked at his wife, more in sorrow than in anger. He was
+silent for some seconds, as if meditating on the peculiar baseness of
+human nature. When he spoke there was a whine in his raucous voice,
+which was, perhaps, meant to denote his consciousness of how much he
+stood in need of sympathy.
+
+'I'm sorry, Matilda, to hear you talk to me like that, because it
+forces me to do something what I shouldn't otherwise have done. Give
+me them coats.'
+
+She had just finished packing up the coats in the linen wrapper, and
+was pinning up one end. Snatching up the parcel, she clasped it to
+her bosom as if it had been some precious thing.
+
+'No, Tommy, not the coats!'
+
+'Matilda, once more I ask you to give me them coats.'
+
+'What do you want them for?'
+
+'Once more, Matilda, I ask you to give me them coats.'
+
+'No, Tommy, that I won't--never! not if you was to kill me! You know
+what happened the last time, and all I had to go through; and you
+promised you'd never do it again, and you shan't, not while I can
+help it--no, that you shan't!'
+
+Clasping the parcel tightly to her, she drew back towards a corner of
+the room, like some wild creature standing at bay. Mr. Davis,
+advancing towards the table, leaned on it, addressing her as if he
+desired to impress her with the fact that he was endeavouring not to
+allow his feelings to get the better of his judgment.
+
+'Listen to me, Matilda. I'm soft and tender, as well you know, and
+should therefore regret having to start knocking you about; but want
+is want, and I want 'arf a sovereign this day, and have it I must.'
+
+'What do you want it for?'
+
+Mr. Davis brought his clenched fist sharply down upon the
+table--possibly by way of a hint.
+
+'Never you mind what I want it for. I do want it, and that's enough
+for you. You trouble yourself with your own affairs, and don't poke
+your nose into mine, my girl; you'll find it safest.'
+
+'I'll try to get it for you, Tommy.'
+
+Mr. Davis was scornful.
+
+'Oh, you will, will you! How are you going to set about getting 'arf
+a sovereign? Perhaps you'll be so good as to let me know. Because if
+you can lay hands on 'arf a sovereign whenever one's wanted, it's a
+trick worth knowing. You're such a clever one at getting 'old of the
+pieces, you are, and always have been.'
+
+The man's irony seemed to cause the woman to wince. She drew a little
+farther back towards her corner.
+
+'I don't rightly know how I shall get hold of it, not just now, I
+don't; but I daresay I shall manage somehow.'
+
+'Oh, you do, do you? Shall I tell you how you'll manage? You listen
+to me. You'll go to them there slave-drivers with them two coats, and
+they'll keep you waiting for two mortal hours or more. Then they'll
+dock sixpence for fines--you're always getting fined; you 'ardly ever
+take anything in without you're fined; you're a slovenly workwoman,
+that's what you are, my lass, and that's the truth!--you'll come away
+with three bob, and spend 'arf a crown on rent, or some such silly
+nonsense; and then when it comes to me, you'll start snivelling, and
+act the crybaby, and I shall have to treat you to a kicking, and find
+myself further off my 'arf sovereign than ever I was. I don't want no
+more of your nonsense. Give me them two coats!'
+
+'You'll pawn 'em if I do.'
+
+'Of course I'll pawn 'em. What do you suppose I'm going to do with
+them--eat 'em, or give them to the Queen?'
+
+'You'll get me into trouble again! They're due in to-day. You know
+what happened last time. If they lock me up again, I'll be sent
+away.'
+
+'Then be sent away, and be 'anged to you for a nasty, mean,
+snivelling cat! Why don't you earn enough to keep your 'usband like a
+gentleman? If you don't, it's your fault, isn't it? Give me them two
+coats!'
+
+'No, Tommy, I won't!'
+
+He went closer to her.
+
+'For the last time; will you give me them two coats?'
+
+'No!'
+
+She hugged the parcel closer, and she closed her eyes, so that she
+should not see him strike her. He hit her once, twice, thrice,
+choosing his mark with care and discretion. Under the first two blows
+she reeled; the last sent her in a heap to the floor. When she was
+down he kicked her in a business-like, methodical fashion, then
+picked up the parcel which had fallen from her grasp.
+
+'You've brought it on yourself, as you very well know. It's the kind
+of thing I don't care to have to do. I'm not like some, what's always
+spoiling to knock their wives about; but when I do have to do it,
+there's no one does it more thorough, I will say that.'
+
+He left her lying in a heap on the boards. On his way to the
+pawnbroker's he encountered a friend, Joe Cooke. Mr. Cooke stopped
+and hailed him.
+
+'What yer, Tommy! Are you coming along with us to-night on that there
+little razzle?'
+
+'Of course I am. Didn't I say I was? And when I say I'm coming, don't
+I always come?'
+
+'All right, old coxybird! Keep your 'air on! No one said you didn't.
+Got the rhino?'
+
+'I have. Leastways, I soon shall have, when I've turned this little
+lot into coin of the realm.'
+
+He pointed to the bundle which he bore beneath his arm. Mr. Cooke
+grinned.
+
+'What yer got there?'
+
+'I've got a couple of coats what my wife's been wearing out her eyes
+on for a set of slave-driving sweaters. Three-and-six they was to pay
+her for them. I rather reckon that I'll get more than three-and-six
+for them, unless I'm wrong. And when I have melted 'em, Joe, I don't
+mind if I do you a wet.'
+
+Joe did not mind, either. The two fell in side by side. Mr. Cooke
+drew his hand across his mouth.
+
+'Ever since my old woman died I've felt I ought to have
+another--a good one, mind you. There's nothing like having someone to
+whom you can turn for a bob or so.'
+
+'It's more than a bob or so I get out of my old woman, you may take
+my word. If she don't keep me like a gentleman, she hears of it.'
+
+Mr. Cooke regarded his friend with genuine admiration.
+
+'Ah! but we're not all so fly as you, Tommy, nor yet so lucky.'
+
+'Perhaps not--not, mind you, that that's owing to any fault of yours.
+It's as we're made.'
+
+Mr. Davis, with the bundle under his arm, bore himself with an air of
+modest pride, as one who appreciated his natural advantages.
+
+They reached the pawnbroker's. The entrance to the pledge department
+was in a little alley leading off the main street. As Mr. Davis stood
+at the mouth of this alley to say a parting word to his friend as a
+prelude to the important business of the pledging, someone touched
+him on the arm.
+
+A voice accosted him.
+
+'What is it that you would do?'
+
+Mr. Davis spun round like a teetotum. He stared at the Stranger.
+
+'Hollo, matey! Who are you?'
+
+'I am He that you know not of.'
+
+Mr. Davis drew a little back, as if a trifle disconcerted. His voice
+was huskier than even it was wont to be.
+
+'What's the little game?'
+
+'I bid you tell me what is this thing that you would do?'
+
+Mr. Davis seemed to find in the words, which were quietly uttered, a
+compelling influence which made him curiously frank.
+
+'I am going to pawn these here two coats which my wife's been
+making.'
+
+'Is it well?'
+
+Mr. Davis slunk farther from the Stranger. 'What's it got to do with
+you?'
+
+'Is it well?'
+
+There was a sorrowful intonation in the repetition of the inquiry,
+blended with a singularly penetrant sternness. Mr. Davis cowered as
+if he had been struck a blow. He turned to his friend.
+
+'Say, Joe, who is this bloke?'
+
+The Stranger spoke to Mr. Cooke.
+
+'Look on Me, and you shall know.'
+
+Mr. Cooke looked--and knew. He began to tremble as if he would have
+fallen to the ground. Mr. Davis, noting his friend's condition,
+became uneasy.
+
+'Say, Joe, what's the matter with you? What's he done to you, Joe?'
+
+Mr. Cooke was silent. The Stranger answered:
+
+'Would that that which has been done to him could be done to you, and
+to all this city! But you are of those that cannot know, for in them
+is no knowledge. Yet return to your wife, and make your peace with
+her, lest worse befall.'
+
+Mr. Davis began to slink out of the alley, with furtive air and face
+carefully averted from the Stranger. As he reached the pavement, a
+big man, with a scarlet handkerchief twisted round his neck, caught
+him by the shoulder. The big man's speech was flavoured with
+adjectives.
+
+'Why, Tommy! what's up with you? You look as if you was just
+a-going to see Jack Ketch.'
+
+Then came the flood of adjectives to give the sentence balance. Mr.
+Davis tried to wriggle from his questioner's too strenuous grip.
+
+'Let me go, Pug--let me go!'
+
+'What for? What's wrong? Who's been doing something to yer?'
+
+Mr. Davis made a movement of his head towards the Stranger. He spoke
+in a husky whisper.
+
+'That bloke--over there.'
+
+The big man dragged the unwilling Mr. Davis forward.
+
+'What's my friend been doing to you, and what have you been doing to
+him?'
+
+There was the usual adjectival torrent. The Stranger replied to the
+inquiry with another.
+
+'Why are you so unclean of mouth? Is it because you are unclean of
+heart, or because you do not know what the things are which you
+utter?'
+
+The retorted question seemed to take the big man aback. His manner
+became still more blusterous:
+
+'I don't want none of your lip, and I won't have any, and you can
+take that from me! I don't know what kind of a Gospel-pitcher you
+are; but if you think because preaching's your lay that you can come
+it over me, I'll just show you can't by knocking the head right off
+yer.'
+
+'What big things the little say!'
+
+The retort seemed to goad Mr. Davis's friend to a state of
+considerable excitement.
+
+'Little, am I? I'll show you! I'll learn you! I'll give you a lesson
+free gratis, and for nothing now, right straight off.' He began to
+tear off his cap and coat. 'Here, some of you chaps, catch hold while
+I'm a-showing him!' As he turned up his shirtsleeves, he addressed
+the crowd which had gathered: 'These blokes come to us, and because
+we're poor they think they can treat us as if we was dirt, and come
+the pa and ma game over us as if we was a lot of kids. I've had
+enough of it--in fact, I've had too much. For the future I mean to
+set about every one of them as tries to come it over me. Now, then,
+my bloke, put up your dooks or eat your words. Don't think you're
+going to get out of it by standing still, because if you don't beg
+pardon for what you said to me just now I'll----'
+
+The man, who was by profession a pugilist, advanced towards the
+Stranger in professional style. The Stranger raised His right hand.
+
+'Stay! and let your arm be withered. Better lose your arm than all
+that you have.'
+
+Before the eyes of those who were standing by the man's arm began to
+dwindle till there was nothing protruding from the shirtsleeve which
+he had rolled up to his shoulder but a withered stump. The man stood
+as if rooted to the ground, the expression of his countenance so
+changed as to amount to complete transfiguration. The crowd was still
+until a voice inquired of the Stranger:
+
+'Who are you?'
+
+The Stranger pointed to the man whose arm was withered.
+
+'Can you not see? The world still looks for a sign.'
+
+There were murmurs among the people.
+
+'He's a conjurer!'
+
+'The bloke's a mesmerist, that's what he is!'
+
+'He's one of those hanky-panky coves!'
+
+'I am none of these things. I come from a city not built of hands to
+this city of man's glory and his shame to bring to you a message--no
+new thing, but that old one which the world has forgotten.'
+
+'What's the message, Guv'nor?'
+
+'Those who see Me and know Me will know what is My message; those who
+know Me not, neither will they know My message.'
+
+Mr. Cooke fell on his knees on the pavement.
+
+'Oh, Guv'nor, what shall I do?'
+
+'Cease to weep; there are more than enough tears already.'
+
+'I'm only a silly fool, Guv'nor; tell me what I ought to do.'
+
+'Do well; be clean; judge no one.'
+
+A woman came hurrying through the crowd. It was Mrs. Davis. At sight
+of her husband she burst into exclamations:
+
+'Oh, Tommy, have you pawned them?'
+
+'No, Matilda, I haven't, and I'm not going to, neither.'
+
+'Thank God!'
+
+She threw her arms about her husband's neck and kissed him.
+
+'That is good hearing,' said the Stranger.
+
+The people's attention had been diverted by Mrs. Davis's appearance.
+When they turned again to look for the Stranger He was gone.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER III
+
+                      THE WORDS OF THE PREACHER
+
+
+'They say that the Jews do not look forward to the rebuilding of
+their Holy City of Jerusalem, to their return to the Promised Land.
+They say that we Christians do not look forward to the Second Coming
+of Christ. As to the indictment against the Chosen People, we will
+not pronounce: we are not Jews. But as to the charge against us
+Christians, there we are on firmer ground. We can speak, and we must.
+My answer is, It's a lie. We do look forward to His Second Coming. We
+watch and wait for it. It is the subject of our constant prayers. We
+have His promise, in words which cannot fail. The whole fabric of our
+faith is built upon our assurance of His return. If the delay seems
+long, it is because, in His sight, a thousand years are as a day. Who
+are we to time His movements, and fix the hour of His coming so that
+it may fall in with our convenience? We know that He will come, in
+His own time, in His own way. He will forgive us if we strain our
+eyes eastward, watching for the first rays of the dawn to gild the
+mountains and the plains, and herald the glory of His advent. But
+beyond that His will, not ours, be done. We know, O Lord Christ, Thou
+wilt return when it seems well in Thy sight.'
+
+The Rev. Philip Evans was a short, somewhat sturdily built man, who
+was a little too heavy for his height. His dress was, to all intents
+and purposes, that of a layman, though something about the colour and
+cut of the several garments suggested the dissenting minister of a
+certain modern type. He was a hairy man; his brown hair, beard, and
+whiskers were just beginning to be touched with gray. He wore
+spectacles, big round glasses, set in bright steel frames. He had a
+trick of snatching at them with his left hand every now and then, as
+if to twitch them straight upon his nose. He was not an orator, but
+was something of a rhetorician. He had the gift of the gab, and the
+present-day knack of treating what are supposed to be sacred subjects
+in secular fashion--of 'bringing them down,' as he himself described
+it, 'to the intelligence' of his hearers, apparently unconscious of
+the truth that what he supposed to be their standard of intelligence
+was, in fact, his own.
+
+There was about his manner, methods, gestures, voice, a species of
+nervous force, the product of restlessness rather than vitality,
+which attracted the sort of persons to whom he specially appealed,
+when they had nothing better to do, and held them, if not so
+firmly as the music-hall and theatrical performances which they
+preferentially patronised, still, with a sufficient share of
+interest. The band and the choir had something to do with the
+success which attended his labours. But, after all, these were merely
+side-shows. Indubitably the chief attraction was the man himself, and
+the air of brightness and 'go' which his personality lent to the
+proceedings. One never knew what would be the next thing he would say
+or do.
+
+That Sunday evening the great hall was thronged. It nearly always
+was. In the great thoroughfare without the people passed continually
+to and fro, a motley crowd, mostly in pursuit of mischief. All sorts
+and conditions of persons, as they neared the entrance, would come
+in, if only to rest for a few minutes, and listen by the way, and
+look on. There was a constant coming and going. Philip Evans was one
+of the sights of town, not the least of its notorieties; and those
+very individuals against whom his diatribes were principally directed
+found, upon occasion, a moderate degree of entertainment in listening
+to examples of his comminatory thunders.
+
+The subject of his evening's discourse had been announced as 'The
+Second Coming: Is it Fact or Dream?' He had chosen as his text the
+eleventh verse of the third chapter of St. John's Revelation:
+'Behold, I come quickly; hold fast that which thou hast, that no man
+take thy crown.' He had pointed out to his audience that these words
+were full of suggestion, even apart from their context; pre-eminently
+so in connection with it. They had in them, he maintained, Christ's
+own promise that He would return to the world in which He had endured
+so much disappointment and suffering, such ignominy and such shame.
+He supported his assertion by the usual cross references to Biblical
+passages, construing them to suit his arguments by the dogmatic
+methods with which custom has made us familiar.
+
+'If there is one thing sure, it is the word of Jesus Christ; if there
+is one thing Christ has promised us, it is that He will return. If we
+believe that He came once, we must believe that He will come again.
+We have no option, unless we make out Christ to be a liar. There was
+no meaning in his First Coming unless it is His intention to return.
+The work He began has to be finished. If you deny a personal Christ,
+then you are at least logical in regarding His whole story as
+allegorical, the story that He was and will be; in which case may He
+help you, and open your eyes that you may see. But if you are a
+Christian, it is because you believe in Christ, the living Christ,
+the very Christ, the Christ made man, that was and will be. Your
+faith, our faith, is not a symbol, it's a fact. It's a solid thing,
+not the distillation of a dream. We believe that Jesus Christ was
+like unto us, hungry as we are, and athirst; that He felt as we feel,
+knew our joys and sorrows, our trials and temptations. He came to us
+once, that is certain. To attempt to whittle away that fact is to
+make of our Christianity a laughing-stock, and our plight most
+lamentable. Better for us, a thousand, thousand times, that we had
+never been born! But He came--we know He came! And, knowing that, we
+know that we have His promise that He will come again, and rejoice!
+
+'Of the time and manner of His Second Coming there is none mortal
+that may certainly speak. To pretend to speak on the subject with
+special insight or knowledge would be intolerable presumption--worse,
+akin to blasphemy! Thy will, not ours, be done. We only stand and
+wait. In Thy hand, Lord God, is the issue. We know it, and give
+thanks. But while recognising our inability to probe into the
+workings of the Most High, I think we may be excused if we make
+certain reflections on the theme which to us, as Christians, is of
+such vital moment.
+
+'First, as to the time. Knowing nothing, we do know this, that it may
+be at any instant of any hour of any day. The Lord Jesus Christ may
+be speeding to us now. He may be in our midst even while I speak. Why
+not? We know that He was in a certain synagogue while service was
+taking place, without any there having had the slightest warning of
+His intended presence. What He did then can He not do now? And will
+He not? Who shall say?
+
+'For, as to the manner, we can at least venture to say this, that we
+know not, with any sort of certainty, what the manner of His coming
+will be. The dark passages of the Scripture are dark perhaps of
+intention, and, maybe, will continue obscure, until in the fulness of
+time all things are made plain. There are those who affirm that He
+will come with pomp and power, in the fulness of His power, as a
+conquering king, with legions of angels, to be the Judge of all the
+earth. To me it appears that those who say this go further than the
+evidence before us warrants. And it may be observed that precisely
+the same views were held by a large section of the Jews in the year
+of our Lord. They thought that He would come in the splendour of His
+majesty. And because He did not, they hung Him on the tree. Let us
+not stand in peril of the same mistake. As He came before, in the
+simple garb of a simple man, may He not come in that same form again?
+Why not? Who are we that we should answer? I adjure you, in His most
+holy Name, to keep on this matter an open mind, lest we be guilty of
+the same sin as those purblind Jews.
+
+'What we have to do is to know Him when He does come. The notion that
+we shall be sure to do so seems to me to be born of delusion. Did the
+Jews know Him when He came before? No! Why? Because He was a
+contradiction of all their preconceived ideas. They expected one
+thing, and found another. They looked for a king in his glittering
+robes; and, instead, there was a Man who had not where to lay His
+head. There is the crux of the matter; because He was so like
+themselves, they did not know Him for what He was. The difference was
+spiritual, whereas they expected it to be material. The tendency of
+the world is now, as it was then, to look at the material side. Let
+us be careful that we are not deceived. It is by the spirit we shall
+know Him when He comes!'
+
+The words had been rapidly spoken, and the preacher paused at this
+point, perhaps to take breath, or perhaps to collect his thoughts
+prior to diverting the current of his discourse into a slightly
+different channel. At any rate, there was a distinct pause in the
+flow of language. While it continued, Someone stood up in the body of
+the hall, and a Voice inquired:
+
+'Who shall know Him when He comes?'
+
+The question was clearly audible all over the building. It was by no
+means unusual, in that place, for incidents to occur which were not
+in accordance with the programme. Interruptions were not infrequent.
+Both preacher and people were used to them. By a considerable part of
+the audience such interludes were regarded as not the least
+interesting portion of the proceedings. To the fashion in which he
+was wont to deal with such incidents the Rev. Philip Evans owed, in
+no slight degree, his vogue. It was his habit to lose neither his
+presence of mind nor his temper. He was, after his manner, a fighter
+born. Seldom did he show to more advantage than in dealing out
+cut-and-thrust to a rash intervener.
+
+When the Voice asking the question rose from the body of the hall,
+there were those who at once concluded that such an intervention had
+occurred. For the instant, the movement in and out of the doors
+ceased. Heads were craned forward, and eyes and ears strained to lose
+nothing of what was about to happen. Mr. Evans, to whom the question
+seemed addressed, appeared to be no whit taken by surprise. His
+retort was prompt:
+
+'Sir, pray God that you may know Him when He comes.'
+
+The Voice replied:
+
+'I shall know as I shall be known. But who is there shall know Me?'
+
+The Speaker moved towards the platform, threading His way between the
+crowded rows of seats with an ease and a celerity which seemed
+strange. None endeavoured to stop Him. Philip Evans remained silent
+and motionless, watching Him as He came.
+
+When the Stranger had gained the platform, He turned towards the
+people, asking:
+
+'Who is there here that knows Me? Is there one?' There was not one
+that answered. He turned to the preacher. 'Look at Me well. Do you
+not know Me?'
+
+For once in a way Philip Evans seemed uncomfortable and ill at ease
+and abashed.
+
+'How shall I know you, since you are to me a stranger?'
+
+'And yet you have looked for My coming?'
+
+'Your coming? Who are you?'
+
+'Look at Me well. Is there nothing by which you may know Me?'
+
+'I may have seen you before; but, if so, I have certainly forgotten
+it, which is the more strange, since your face is an unusual one.'
+
+'Oh, you Christians, that preach of what you have no knowledge, and
+lay down the law of which you have no understanding!' He turned to
+the people. 'You followers of Christ, that never knew Him, and never
+shall, and would not if you could, yet make a boast of His name, and
+blazon it upon your foreheads, crying, Behold His children! You call
+upon Him in the morning and at night, careless if He listen, and
+fearful lest He hear; saying, with your lips, "We look for His
+coming"; and, with your hearts, "Send it not in our time." It is by
+the spirit you shall know Him. Yes, of a truth. Is there not one
+among you in whom the spirit is? Is there not one?'
+
+The Stranger stood with His arms extended in front of Him, in an
+attitude of appeal. The hush of a perfect silence reigned in the
+great hall. Every countenance was turned to Him, but so far as could
+be seen, not a muscle moved. The predominant expression upon the
+expanse of faces was astonishment, mingled with curiosity. His arms
+sank to His sides.
+
+'He came unto His own, and His own knew Him not!'
+
+The words fell from His lips in tones of infinite pathos. He passed
+from the platform through the hall, and out of the door, followed by
+the eyes of all who were there, none seeking to stay Him.
+
+When He had gone, one of the persons who were associated with the
+conduct of the service went up to Mr. Evans. A few whispered words
+were exchanged between them. Then this person, going to the edge of
+the platform, announced:
+
+'After what has just occurred, I regret to have to inform you that
+Mr. Evans feels himself unable to continue his address. He trusts to
+be able, God willing, to bring it to a close on a more auspicious
+occasion. This evening's service will be brought to a conclusion by
+singing the hymn "Lo, He comes, in clouds descending!"'
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV
+
+                        THE CHILDREN'S MOTHER
+
+
+'You've had your pennyworth.'
+
+'Oh, Charlie, I haven't! you must send me higher. You mustn't stop;
+I've only just begun to swing.'
+
+'I shall stop; it's my turn. You'd keep on for ever.'
+
+The boy drew to one side. The swing began to slow. Doris grew
+indignant. She endeavoured to swing herself, wriggling on the seat,
+twisting herself in various attitudes. The result was failure. The
+swing moved slower. She tried a final appeal.
+
+'Oh, Charlie, I do think you might push me just a little longer; it's
+not fair. You said you'd give me a good one. Then I'll give you a
+splendid swing.'
+
+'You've had a good one. You'd keep on for ever, you would. Get off!'
+
+The swing stopped dead. The girl made a vain attempt to give it
+momentum.
+
+'It's beastly of you,' she said.
+
+She scrambled to the ground. The boy got on. He was not content to
+sit; he stood upright.
+
+'Now, then,' he cried, 'why don't you start me? Don't you see I'm
+ready?'
+
+'You'll tumble off. Mamma said you weren't to stand.'
+
+'Shall stand. Go and tell! Start me!'
+
+'You will tumble.'
+
+'All right, then, I will tumble. Start me! Don't you hear?'
+
+She 'started' him. The swing having received its initial impetus, he
+swung himself. He mounted higher and higher. Doris watched him,
+leaning her right shoulder against the beech tree, her hands behind
+her back. She interpolated occasional remarks on the risk which he
+was running.
+
+'You'll fall if you don't take care. You oughtn't to go so high.
+Mamma said you oughtn't to go so high.'
+
+He received her observations with scorn.
+
+'Just as though I will fall! How silly you are! You will keep on!'
+
+As he spoke, one of the ropes gave way. The other rope swerving, he
+was dashed against an upright. He fell to the ground. The thing was
+the work of an instant. He was ascending jubilantly towards the sky:
+the same second he was lying on the ground. Doris did not realise
+what had happened. She had been envying him the ease with which he
+swung himself, the height of his ascent. She did not understand why
+he had stopped so suddenly. She perceived how still he seemed, half
+wondering.
+
+'Charlie!' His silence frightened her. Her voice sank. 'Charlie!' She
+became angry. 'Why don't you answer me?' She moved closer to him,
+observing in what an ugly heap he lay. 'Charlie!'
+
+Yet he vouchsafed her no reply. He lay so still. It was such an
+unusual thing for Charlie to be still, the strangeness of it began to
+get upon her nerves. Her face clouded. She was making ready to rush
+off and alarm the house in an agony of weeping. Already she was
+starting, when Someone came to her from across the lawn, and laid His
+hand upon her shoulder.
+
+'Doris, what is wrong?'
+
+The voice was a stranger's, and the presence. But she paid no heed to
+that: all her thoughts were concentrated on a single theme.
+
+'Charlie!' she gasped.
+
+'What ails Charlie?'
+
+The Stranger, kneeling beside the silent boy, bent over him, gently
+turning him so that He could see his face. Then, raising him from the
+ground, gathering him in His arms, He held him to His breast; and,
+stooping, He whispered in his ear:
+
+'Wake up, Charlie! Doris wants you.'
+
+And the boy sat up, and looked in the face of Him in whose arms he
+was.
+
+'Hollo!' he said. 'Who are you?'
+
+'The friend of little children.'
+
+There was an appreciable space of time before the answer came, and
+when it did come it was accompanied by a smile, as the Stranger
+looked the boy straight in the eyes. The boy laughed outright.
+
+'I like the look of you.'
+
+Doris drew a little nearer. She had her fingers to her lips, seeming
+more than half afraid.
+
+'Charlie, I thought you were hurt.'
+
+'Hurt!' he flashed at her; then back at the Stranger: 'I'm not hurt,
+am I?'
+
+'No, you are not hurt; you are well, and whole, and strong.'
+
+'But you tumbled from the swing.' The boy stared at Doris as if he
+thought she must be dreaming. 'The swing broke.'
+
+'Broke?' Glancing up, he perceived the severed rope. 'Why, so it
+has.'
+
+'It can soon be mended.'
+
+The Stranger put the boy down, and went to the swing, and
+in a moment the two ends of the rope were joined together.
+Then He lifted them both on the seat, the boy and the girl together--
+there was ample room for both--and swung them gently to and fro. And
+as He swung He talked to them, and they to Him.
+
+And when they had had enough of swinging He went with them, hand in
+hand, and sat with them on the grass by the side of the lake, with
+the trees at their back. And again He talked to them, and they to
+Him. And the simple things of which He spoke seemed strange to them,
+and wonderful. Never had anyone talked to them like that before. They
+kept as close to Him as they could, and put their arms about Him so
+far as they were able, and nestled their faces against His side, and
+they were happy.
+
+While the Stranger and the children still conversed together there
+came down through the woods, towards the lake, a lady and a
+gentleman. He was a tall man, and held himself very straight,
+speaking as if he were very much in earnest.
+
+'Doris, why should we keep on pretending to each other? I know that
+you love me, and you know that I love you. Why should you spoil your
+life--and mine!--for the sake of such a hound?'
+
+'He is my husband.'
+
+She spoke a little below her breath, as if she were ashamed of the
+fact. He struck impatiently at the bracken with his stick.
+
+'Your husband! That creature! As though it were not profanation to
+link you with such an animal.'
+
+'And then there are the children.'
+
+Her voice sank lower, as if this time she spoke of something sacred.
+He noted the difference in the intonation; apparently he resented it.
+He struck more vigorously at the bracken, as if actuated by a desire
+to relieve his feelings. There was an interval, during which both of
+them were silent. Then he turned to her with sudden passion.
+
+'Doris, come with me, at once! now! Give yourself to me, and I'll
+devote my whole life to you. You've known enough of me through all
+these things to be sure that you can trust me. Aren't you sure that
+you can trust me?'
+
+'Yes, I am sure that I can trust you--in a sense.'
+
+Something in her face seemed to make an irresistible appeal to him.
+He took her in his arms, she offering no resistance.
+
+'In a sense? In what sense? Can't you trust me in every sense?'
+
+'I can trust you to be true to me; but I am not so sure that I can
+trust you to let me be true to myself.'
+
+'What hair-splitting's this? I'll let you be true to your own
+womanhood; it's you who shirk. You seem to want me to treat you as if
+you were an automatic figure, not a creature of flesh and blood. I
+can't do it--you can't trust me to do it; that thing's plain. Come,
+darling, let's take the future in our own hands, and together wrest
+happiness from life. You know that at my side you'll be content. See
+how you're trembling! There's proof of it. I'll swear I'll be content
+at yours! Come, Doris, come!'
+
+'Where will you take me?'
+
+'That's not your affair just now. I'll take you where I will. All you
+have to do is--come.'
+
+She drew herself out of his arms, and a little away from him. She put
+up her hand as if to smooth her hair, he watching her with eager
+eyes.
+
+'I'll come.'
+
+He took her again in his embrace, softly, tenderly, as if she were
+some fragile, priceless thing. His voice trembled.
+
+'You darling! When?'
+
+'Now. Since all's over, and everything's to begin again, the sooner a
+beginning's made the better.' A sort of rage came into her voice--a
+note of hysteric pain. 'If you're to take me, take me as I am, in
+what I stand. I dare say he'll send my clothes on after me--and my
+jewels, perhaps.'
+
+It seemed as if her tone troubled him, as if he endeavoured to soothe
+her.
+
+'Don't talk like that, Doris. Everything that you want I'll get you--
+all that your heart can desire.'
+
+'Except peace of mind!'
+
+'I trust that I shall be able to get you even that. Only come!'
+
+'Don't I tell you that I am ready? Why don't you start?'
+
+He appeared to find her manner disconcerting. He searched her face,
+as if to discover if she were in earnest, then looked at his watch.
+
+'If we make haste across the park, we shall be able to catch the
+express to town.'
+
+'Then let's make haste and catch it.'
+
+'Come!'
+
+They began to walk quickly, side by side. As they passed round the
+bend they came on the two children sitting, with the Stranger, beside
+the lake. The children, scrambling to their feet, came running to
+them.
+
+'Mamma,' they cried, 'come and see the friend of little children!'
+
+At sight of them the woman drew back, as if afraid. The man
+interposed.
+
+'Don't worry, you youngsters! Your mother's in a hurry--run away!
+Come, Doris, make haste; we've no time to lose if we wish to catch
+the train.'
+
+He put his arm through hers, and made as if to draw her past them.
+She seemed disposed to linger.
+
+'Let me--say good-bye to them.'
+
+He whispered in her ear:
+
+'There'll only be a scene; don't be foolish, child! There's not a
+moment to lose!' He turned angrily to the boy and girl. 'Don't you
+hear, you youngsters!--run away!' As the children moved aside,
+frightened at his violence, and bewildered by the strangeness of
+their mother's manner, he gripped the woman's arm more firmly,
+beginning by sheer force to hurry her off. 'Come, Doris,' he
+exclaimed, 'don't be an idiot!'
+
+The Stranger, who had been sitting on the grass, stood up and faced
+them.
+
+'Rather be wise. There still is time. What is it you would do?'
+
+The interruption took the pair completely by surprise. The man stared
+angrily at the Stranger.
+
+'Who are you, sir? And what do you mean by interfering in what is no
+concern of yours?
+
+'Are you sure that it is no concern of Mine?'
+
+The man endeavoured to meet the Stranger's eyes, with but scant
+success. His erect, bold, defiant attitude gave place to one of
+curious uncertainty.
+
+'How can it be any concern of yours?'
+
+'All things are My concern, the things which you do, and the things
+which you leave undone. Would it were not so, for many and great are
+the burdens which you lay upon me. You wicked man! Yet more foolish
+even than wicked! What is this woman to you that you should seek to
+slay her body and soul? Is she not of those who know not what is the
+thing they do till it is done? It is well with you if this sin, also,
+shall not be laid to your charge,--that you are a blind leader of the
+blind!'
+
+The Stranger turned to the woman.
+
+'Your eyes shall be opened. Look upon this man to see him as he is.'
+
+The woman looked at the man. As she looked, a change came over him.
+Before her accusatory glance he seemed to dwindle and wax old. He
+grew ugly, his jaw dropped open, his eyes were full of lust, cruelty
+was writ upon his countenance. On a sudden he had become a thing of
+evil. She shrank back with a cry of horror and alarm, while he stood
+before her cowering like some guilty creature whose shame has been
+suddenly made plain. And the Stranger said to him:
+
+'Go! and seek that peace of which you would have robbed her.'
+
+The man, shambling away round the bend in the path, presently was
+lost to sight. The Stranger was left alone with the children and the
+woman. The woman stood before Him trembling, with bowed form and face
+cast down, and she cried:
+
+'Who are you, sir?'
+
+The Stranger replied:
+
+'Look upon Me: and as you knew the man, so, also, you shall know Me.'
+
+She looked on Him, and knew Him, and wept.
+
+'Lord, I know You! Have mercy upon me!'
+
+He answered:
+
+'I am the friend of little children, and of the mothers that bare
+them; for the pains of the women are not little ones; and because
+they are great, so also shall great mercy be shown unto them. For
+unto those that suffer most, shall not most be forgiven? for is not
+suffering akin to repentance?'
+
+And the woman cried:
+
+'Lord, I am not worthy Thy forgiveness!'
+
+And to her He said:
+
+'Is any worthy? No, not one. Yet many are those to whom forgiveness
+comes. There are your children, that are an heritage to you of God.
+Take them, and as you are unto them, so shall God be unto you, and
+more. Return to your husband; say to him what things have happened
+unto you, and fear not because of him.'
+
+And the woman went, holding a child by either hand. And the Stranger
+stood and watched them as they went. And when they had gone some
+distance, the woman turned and looked at Him. And He called to her:
+
+'Be of good courage!'
+
+And after that she saw Him no more.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V
+
+                            THE OPERATION
+
+
+The students crowded the benches. Some wore hats and gloves,
+and carried sticks or umbrellas; they had the appearance of having
+just dropped in to enjoy a little passing relaxation. Others, hatless
+and gloveless, wore instead an air of intense pre-occupation; they
+had note-books in their hands, and spent the time studying anatomical
+charts in sombre-covered volumes. Many were smoking pipes for the
+most part; the air was heavy with tobacco smoke. Nearly everybody
+talked; there was a continual clatter of voices; men on one side
+called to men on the other, exchanging jokes and laughter.
+
+In the well below were the tables for the operator and his
+paraphernalia. Assistants were making all things ready. The smell of
+antiseptic fluids mingled with the odour of tobacco. Omnipresent was
+the pungent suggestion of carbolic acid. A glittering array of
+instruments was being sterilised and placed in order for the
+operator's hand. The anæsthetists were busy with their preparations
+to expedite unconsciousness, the dressers with their bandages to be
+applied when the knives had made an end.
+
+There was about the whole theatre, and in particular about the little
+array of men upon the floor in their white shrouds, who were occupied
+in doing things the meaning of which was hidden from the average
+layman, something which the unaccustomed eye and ear and stomach
+would have found repulsive. But in the bearing of those who were
+actually present there was no hint that the work in which they were
+to be engaged had about it any of the elements of the disagreeable.
+They were, taking them all in all, and so far as appearances went, a
+careless, lighthearted, jovial crew.
+
+When the operator entered, accompanied by two colleagues, there was
+silence, or, rather, a distinct hush. Pipes were put out, men settled
+in their seats, note-books were opened, opera-glasses were produced.
+The operator was a man of medium height and slender build, with
+slight side-whiskers and thin brown hair, which was turning gray. He
+wore spectacles. Having donned the linen duster, he turned up his
+shirtsleeves close to his shoulders, and with bare arms began to
+examine the preparations which the assistants had made. He glanced at
+the instruments, commented on the bandages, gave some final
+directions to an irrigator; then each man fell into his place and
+waited. The door opened and a procession entered. A stretcher was
+carried in by two men, one at the head and one at the foot. A nurse
+walked by the side, holding the patient by the hand; two other nurses
+accompanied. The patient was lifted on to the table. The porters,
+with the stretcher, withdrew. The nurse who had held the patient's
+hand stooped and kissed her, whispering words of comfort. The
+operator bent also. What he said was clearly audible.
+
+'Don't be afraid; it will be all right.'
+
+The patient said nothing. She was a woman of about thirty years, and
+was suffering from cancer in the womb.
+
+Anæsthetics were applied, but she took them badly, fighting,
+struggling against their influence, crying and whimpering all the
+time. Force had to be used to restrain her movements on the table.
+When she felt their restraining hands, she began to be hysterical and
+to scream. A second attempt was made to bring about unconsciousness;
+again without result. The surgeons held a hurried consultation as to
+whether the operation should be carried out with the patient still in
+possession of her senses. It was resolved that there should be a
+third and more drastic effort to produce anæsthesia. On that occasion
+the desired result was brought about. Her cries and struggles ceased;
+she was in a state of torpor.
+
+The body was bared; the knife began its work....
+
+The operation was not wholly successful. There had been fears that it
+would fail; but as, if it were not attempted, an agonising death
+would certainly ensue, it had been felt that it was a case in which
+every possible chance should be taken advantage of, and in which the
+undoubted risk was worth incurring. The woman was still young. She
+had a husband who loved her and children whom she loved. She did not
+wish to die; so it had been decided that surgical science should do
+its best to win life for her.
+
+But it appeared that the worst fears on her account were likely to be
+realised. The operation was a prolonged one. The resistance she had
+offered to the application of the anæsthetics had weakened her. Soon
+after the surgeon began his labours it became obvious to those who
+knew him best that he had grave doubts as to what would be the issue.
+As he continued, his doubts grew more; they were exchanged for
+certainties, until it began to be whispered through the theatre that
+the operation, which was being brought to as rapid a conclusion as
+possible, was being conducted on a subject who was already dead.
+
+The woman had died under the surgeon's knife. Shortly the fact was
+established beyond the possibility of challenge. Reagents of every
+kind were applied in the most effective possible manner; medical
+skill and experience did its utmost; but neither the Materia Medica
+nor the brains of doctors shall prevail against death, and this woman
+was already dead.
+
+When the thing was made plain, there came into the atmosphere a
+peculiar quality. The students were very still; they neither moved
+nor spoke, but sat stiffly, with their eyes fixed on the naked woman
+extended on the oilskin pad. Some of those faces were white, their
+features set and rigid. This was notably the case with those who were
+youngest and most inexperienced, though there were those among the
+seniors who were ill at ease. It was almost as if they had been
+assisting at a homicide; before their eyes they had seen this woman
+done to death. The operator was a man whose nerve was notorious, or
+he would not have held the position which he did; but even he seemed
+to have been nonplussed by what had happened beneath his knife. His
+assistants clustered together, eyeing him askance, and each other,
+and the woman, with the useless bandages hiding the gaping wound. His
+colleagues whispered apart. They and he were all drabbled with blood;
+each seemed conscious of his ensanguined hands. All in the building
+had come full of faith in the man whose fame as a surgeon was a
+byword; it was as though their faith had received an ugly jar.
+
+While the hush endured, One rose from His place on the benches, and
+stepping on to the operating floor, moved towards the woman. An
+assistant endeavoured to interpose.
+
+'Go back to your place, sir. What do you mean by coming here?'
+
+'You have done your work. Am I not, then, to do Mine?'
+
+The assistant stared, taken aback by what seemed to him to be
+impudence.
+
+'Don't talk nonsense! Who are you, sir?'
+
+'I am He you know not of--a help to those in pain.'
+
+The assistant hesitated, glancing from the Speaker to his chief. The
+Stranger drew a sheet over the woman, so that only her face remained
+uncovered. Turning to the operator, He beckoned with His finger.
+
+'Come!'
+
+The surgeon went. The Stranger said to him, pointing towards the
+woman:
+
+'Insomuch as what you have done was done for her, it is well;
+insomuch as it was done for your own advancing, it was ill. Yet be
+not afraid. Blessed are the hands which heal men's wounds, and wipe
+the tears of pain out of their eyes. Better to be of use to those
+that suffer than to be a king. For the time shall come when you shall
+say: "As I did unto others, so do, Lord, unto me." And it shall be
+done. Yet do it, not for the swelling of your purse, but for your
+brother's sake, and your payment shall be of God.'
+
+And the Stranger, turning, spoke to the students on the benches; and
+their eyes never moved from Him as, wondering, they listened to His
+words.
+
+'Hearken, O young men, while I speak to you of the things which your
+fathers have forgotten, and would not remember if they could. You
+would go forth as healers of men? It is well. Go forth! Heal! The
+world is very sick. Women labour; men sigh because of their pains.
+But, physicians, heal first yourselves. Be sure that you go forth in
+the spirit of healing. Where there is suffering, there go; ask not
+why it comes, nor whence, nor what shall be the fee. Heal only. The
+labourer is worthy of his hire; yet it is not for his hire he should
+labour. Heal for the healing's sake, and because of the pain which is
+in the world. God shall measure out to the physician his appointed
+fee. Trouble not yourselves with that. The less your gain, the
+greater your gain. There is One that keeps count. Each piece of money
+you heap upon the other lessens your store. I tell you that there is
+joy in heaven each time a sufferer is eased, at his brother's hands,
+of pain, because it was his brother.'
+
+When the Stranger ceased, the students looked from him at each other.
+They began to murmur among themselves.
+
+'Who is this fellow?'
+
+'What does he mean by preaching at us?'
+
+'Inflicting on us a string of platitudes!'
+
+And one, bolder than the rest, called out:
+
+'Yours is excellent advice, sir, but in the light of what's just
+occurred it seems hardly to the point. Couldn't you demonstrate
+instead of talk?'
+
+The Stranger looked in the direction from which the voice came.
+
+'Stand up!'
+
+The student stood up. He was a young man of about twenty-four, with a
+shrewd, earnest face. In his hand he held an open note-book.
+
+'Always the world seeks for a sign; without a sign it will not
+believe--nor with a sign. What demonstration would you have of Me?'
+
+'Are you a doctor, sir?'
+
+'I am a healer of men.'
+
+'With what degree?'
+
+'One you know not of.'
+
+'Yet I thought I knew something of all degrees.'
+
+'Not all. Young man, you will find the world easy, heaven hard. Yet
+because there are many here like unto you, I will show to you a sign;
+exhibit My degree.'
+
+The Stranger turned to the operating surgeon.
+
+'You say that the woman whom you sought to heal is dead?'
+
+'Beyond a doubt, unfortunately.'
+
+'You are sure?'
+
+'Certain.'
+
+'Of that you are all persuaded?'
+
+Again there came murmurs from the students on the benches:
+
+'What's he up to?'
+
+'Who's he getting at?'
+
+'Throw him out!'
+
+The Stranger waited till the murmuring was at an end. Then He turned
+to the woman, and, stooping, kissed her on the lips.
+
+'Daughter!' He said.
+
+And, behold, the woman sat up and looked about her.
+
+'Where am I?' she asked, as one who wakes from sleep.
+
+'Is all well with you?'
+
+'Oh, yes, all's well with me, thank God!'
+
+'That is good hearing.'
+
+Then there was a tumult in the theatre. The students stood up in
+their places, speaking all together.
+
+'How's he done it?'
+
+'She must have been only shamming.'
+
+'It's a trick!'
+
+'It's a plant!'
+
+'It's a got-up thing between them.'
+
+Insults were hurled at the Stranger by a hundred different voices. In
+the heat of their excitement the students came streaming down from
+their seats on to the operating floor. They looked for the man who
+had done this thing.
+
+'Where is he?' they cried. 'We'll make him confess how the trick was
+done.'
+
+But He whom they sought was not there. He had already gone. When they
+discovered that this was so, and that He whom they sought was not to
+be found, but had vanished from before their eyes, their bewilderment
+grew still more. With one accord they turned to look at the woman.
+
+As if alarmed by the noise of their threatening voices, and the
+confusion caused by their tumultuous movements, she had raised
+herself upon the operating table, so that she stood upright before
+them all, naked as she was born. And they saw that the bandages had
+fallen from off her, and that her body was without scratch and
+blemish, round and whole.
+
+'It's a miracle!' they exclaimed.
+
+A great silence fell over them all, until, presently, the surgeons
+and the students, looking each into the other's faces, began to ask,
+each of his neighbour:
+
+'Who is the man that has done this thing?'
+
+But the woman gave thanks unto God, weeping tears of joy.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI
+
+                             THE BLACKLEG
+
+
+The foreman shrugged his shoulders. He avoided looking at the
+applicant, an undersized man, with straggling black beard and dull
+eyes. Even now, while pressing his appeal, he wore an air of being
+but slightly interested.
+
+'You know, Jones, what the conditions of employ were--keep on the
+works.'
+
+'But my little girl's ill!'
+
+'Sorry to hear it; but you don't want to have any trouble. You heard
+how they treated your wife when she came in; they'd be much worse to
+you if I was to let you out. They're pretty near beat, and they know
+it, and they don't like it, and before they quite knock under they'd
+like to make a mark of someone. If it was you, they might make a mark
+too many; they're not overfond of you just now, as you know very
+well. And then where will you be, eh? How would your little girl be
+any better for their laying you out?'
+
+Jones turned to his wife, a sort of feminine replica of himself. She
+had her shawl drawn over her head.
+
+'You hear, Jane, what Mr. Mason says?'
+
+Mrs. Jones sighed; even in her sigh there was a curious reproduction
+of her husband's lack of interest.
+
+'All I know is that the doctor don't seem to have no great 'opes
+about Matilda, and that she keeps a-calling for you, Tom.'
+
+'Does she? Then I go! Mr. Mason, I'm a-goin'.'
+
+'All right, Jones, go! Don't think that I don't feel for yer, 'cause
+I do, but as to coming back again, that's another matter. Mind, we
+can do without yer, and we don't want no fuss, that's all. Things
+have been bad enough up to now, and we don't want 'em to be no
+worse.'
+
+Outside the gates there was a considerable crowd. Among the crowd
+were the pickets and a fair leaven of the men on strike; but a large
+majority of the people might have been described as sympathisers.
+Unwise sympathisers they for the most part were; more bent on
+striking than the strikers; more resolute to fight the battle to the
+bitter end. The knowledge that already surrender was in the air
+angered them. They were in an ugly temper, disposed to 'take it out
+of' the first most convenient object.
+
+As Mrs. Jones had made her way through them towards the gates she had
+been subjected to gibes and jeers, and worse. She had been pushed and
+hustled. More than one hand had been laid rudely on her. Someone had
+thrown a shovelful of dirt with such adroitness that it had burst in
+a shower on her head. While she was still nearly blinded she had been
+pushed hither and thither with half good-humoured horse-play, which
+was near akin to something else.
+
+Tom Jones was an unpopular figure. He was one of the most notorious
+of the blacklegs, in a sense their leader. He had persisted in being
+master of his own volition; asserted his right to labour for whom he
+pleased, at whatever terms he chose. Such men are the greatest
+enemies of trades unions. Allow a man his freedom, and unionism, in
+its modern sense, is at an end. It is one of the questions of the
+moment whether the good of the greatest number does not imperatively
+demand special legislation which shall hold such men in bonds; which
+shall make it a penal offence for them to consider themselves free.
+
+Word had gone round that Jones's little girl was ill; that the doctor
+had decided she was dying; that Mrs. Jones had come to fetch him home
+to bid the child good-bye. By most of those there it was
+unhesitatingly agreed that this was as it should be; that Jones was
+being served just right; that he was only getting a bit of what he
+ought to have, which, it was quite within the range of possibility,
+they would supplement with something else.
+
+It was because of Jones and his like that the strike was failing, had
+failed; that they were beaten and broken, brought to their knees, in
+spite of all their organisation, of what they had endured. Jones! It
+was currently reported that the idea of giving the blacklegs food and
+lodging on the premises, and so rendering the wiles of the pickets of
+no avail, was Jones's. At any rate, he had been among the first to
+fall in with the proposition, and for many days he had not been
+outside the gates. Jones! Let him put his face outside those gates
+now and he would see what they would show him.
+
+When the gates were opened, and Mrs. Jones had entered, they waited,
+murmuring and muttering, with twitching fingers and lowering brows,
+wondering if the prospect of being able to bid his dying child
+good-bye would be sufficient inducement to him to trust himself
+outside there in the open. And while they wondered he came.
+
+Again the gate was opened. Out came Jones; close behind him was his
+wife. Then the gate was shut to with a bang.
+
+He was known by sight to many in the crowd. By them the knowledge of
+who he was was instantly communicated to all the rest. He was not
+greeted with any tumult; they were too much in earnest to be noisy.
+But, with one accord, they cursed him, and their curses, though not
+loudly uttered, reached him, every one. He stood fronting the array
+of angry faces, all inclined in his direction.
+
+The three policemen, who kept a clear space in front of the works,
+and saw that ingress and egress was gained with some sort of ease,
+hardly seemed to know what to make of him, or of the situation. They
+glanced at Jones, then at the crowd, then at each other. All the
+morning the people had been gathering round the gate, the number
+increasing as the minutes passed. Except that they could not be
+induced to move away, there had been little to object to in their
+demeanour until now. As Jones appeared with his wife they formed
+together into a more compact mass. Another shovelful of dust was
+thrown by someone at the back with the same dexterity as before, so
+that it lighted on the man and the woman, partially obscuring them
+beneath a cloud of dust. That same instant perhaps a dozen stones
+were thrown, some of which struck both Mr. and Mrs. Jones, the rest
+rattling against the gate.
+
+It was done so quickly that the police had not a chance to offer
+interference. They had been instructed to make as little show of
+authority as possible, to bear as much as could be borne, and, until
+the last extremity, to do nothing to rouse the rancour of the
+strikers. In the face of this sudden assault the trio hesitated. Then
+the one nearest to the gate held his hand up to the crowd, shouting:
+
+'Now, you chaps, none of that! Don't you go making fools of
+yourselves, or you'll be sorry!' He turned to the Joneses. 'You'd
+better go back and try to get out some other way. There'll be trouble
+if you stop here.'
+
+Tom Jones asked him stolidly, gazing with his lack-lustre eyes
+intently at the crowd:
+
+'Which other way?'
+
+'I don't know--any other way. You can't get this way, that's plain--
+they mean mischief. Back you go, before you're sorry.'
+
+The constable endeavoured to hustle the pair back within the gate.
+But Jones would not have it.
+
+'My child's dying; this is the nearest way to her. I'm going this
+way.'
+
+The officer persisted in his attempt to persuade him to change his
+mind.
+
+'Don't be silly! You won't do your child any good by getting yourself
+knocked to pieces, will you?'
+
+Tom Jones was obstinate.
+
+'I'm going this way.'
+
+Slipping past the constable, he moved towards the crowd. The people
+confronted him like a solid wall.
+
+'Let me pass, you chaps.'
+
+That moment the storm broke. The man's stolid demeanour, the complete
+indifference with which he faced their rage, might have had something
+to do with it. The effect of his request to be allowed to pass was as
+if he had dropped a lighted match into a powder-magazine. An
+explosion followed. The air was rent by curses; the people became all
+at once like madmen. Possessed with sudden frenzy, they crowded round
+the man, raining on him a hail of blows, each man struggling with his
+fellow in order to reach the object of his rage. Their very fury
+defeated their purpose. Not a few of the blows which were meant for
+Jones fell on their own companions. With the commencement of the
+attack Jones's stolidity completely vanished. He was transformed into
+a fiend, and behaved like one. His voice was heard above the others,
+pouring forth a flood of objurgations on the heads of his assailants.
+His wife was his slavish disciple. Her shrill tones were mingled with
+his deeper ones; they were at least as audible. Her language was no
+better, her passion was no less. The man and the woman fought like
+wild beasts. And so blinded by fury were the efforts of their
+assailants that the pair were able to give back much more than they
+received.
+
+The attempts of the police at pacification were useless. They were
+not in sufficient force. And there is a point in the temper of a
+crowd at which its rage is not to be appeased until it has vented
+itself on the object of its fury. All that the officers succeeded in
+doing was to lose their own tempers. Under certain circumstances
+there is irresistible contagion in a madman's frenzy. Presently they
+themselves were mingling in the frantic mêlée, apparently with as
+little show of reason as the rest.
+
+Suddenly the crowd gave way towards the centre. Those in the middle
+were borne down by those who persisted in pressing on. There was a
+struggling, heaving, mouthing mass upon the ground, with the Joneses
+underneath. And, as the writhings and contortions of this heap grew
+less and less, there came One, before whose touch men gave way, so
+that, before they knew it, He stood there, in their very midst,
+before them all. In His presence their rage was stilled. Ceasing to
+contend, they drew back, looking towards Him with their bloodshot
+eyes. Where had been the pile of living men was a clear space, in
+which He stood. At His feet were two forms--Tom Jones and his wife.
+The woman cried and groaned, twisting her limbs; but the man lay
+still.
+
+'What is it that you would do?'
+
+With the sorrowful inflexion of the voice was blended a satiric
+intonation which seemed to strike some of those who heard as with a
+thong. One man, a big, burly fellow, chose to take the question as
+addressed to himself. He still trembled with excess of rage; his
+voice was husky; from his mouth there came a volley of oaths.
+
+'Bash the ---- to a jelly--that's what we'd like to do to
+his ---- carcase! It's through the likes of him that our homes are
+broken up, our kids starving, our wives with pretty near nothing on.
+Killing's too good for such a----!'
+
+'Who are you that you should judge your brother?'
+
+The man spat on the pavement.
+
+'He's no brother of mine--not much he ain't! If I'd a brother like
+him, I'd cut my throat!'
+
+'Since all men are brethren, and this is a man, if he is not your
+brother, what, then, are you?'
+
+'He's no man! If he is, I hope I ain't.'
+
+The Stranger was for a moment silent, looking at the speaker, who,
+drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, averted his glance.
+
+'You are a man--as he is. Would that you both were more than men, or
+less. Go, all of you that would shed innocent blood, knowing not what
+it is you do. Wash the stain from off your hands; for if your hands
+are clean, so also are your hearts. As your ignorance is great, so
+also is God's mercy. Go, I say, and learn who is your brother.'
+
+And the people went, slinking off, for the most part, in little
+groups of threes and fours, muttering together. Some there were who
+made haste, and ran, thinking that the man was dead, and fearful of
+what might follow.
+
+When they were all gone, the Stranger turned to the woman, who still
+cried and made a noise.
+
+'Cease, woman, and go to your daughter, lest she be dead before you
+come.'
+
+And stooping, he touched the man upon the shoulder, saying:
+
+'Rise!'
+
+And the man stood up, and the Stranger said to him:
+
+'Haste, and go to your daughter, who calls for you continually.'
+
+And the man and the woman went away together, without a word.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VII
+
+                            IN PICCADILLY
+
+
+It was past eleven. The people, streaming out of the theatres, poured
+into Piccadilly Circus. The night was fine, so that those on foot
+were disposed to take their time. The crowd was huge, its constituent
+parts people of all climes and countries, of all ranks and stations.
+To the unaccustomed eye the confusion was bewildering; omnibuses
+rolled heavily in every direction; hansom cabs made efforts to break
+through what, to the eyes of their sanguine drivers, seemed breaks in
+the line of traffic; carriages filled with persons in evening-dress
+made such haste as they could. The pavements were crowded almost to
+the point of danger; even in the roadway foot-passengers passed
+hither and thither amidst the throng of vehicles, while on every side
+vendors of evening papers pushed and scrambled, shouting out, with
+stentorian lungs, what wares they had to sell.
+
+The papers met with a brisk demand. Strange tales were told in them.
+Readers were uncertain as to the light in which they ought to be
+regarded; editors were themselves in doubt as to the manner in which
+it would be proper to set them forth. Some wrote in a strain which
+was intended to be frankly humorous; others told the stories baldly,
+leaving readers to take them as they chose; while still a third set
+did their best to dish them up in the shape of a wild sensation.
+
+It was currently reported that a Mysterious Stranger had appeared in
+London. During the last few hours He had been seen by large numbers
+of people. The occasions on which He had created the most remarkable
+impressions had been two. At St. John's Hall the Rev. Philip Evans
+had been preaching on the Second Coming, when, in the middle of the
+discourse, a Stranger had appeared upon the platform, actually
+claiming, so far as could be gathered, to be the Christ. In the
+operating theatre at St. Philip's Hospital, just as a subject--a
+woman--had succumbed under the surgeon's knife, a Stranger had come
+upon the scene, and, before all eyes, had restored the dead to life.
+It was this story of the miracle, as it was called, at St. Philip's
+Hospital, which had been exciting London all that day. The thing was
+incredible; but the witnesses were so reputable, their statements so
+emphatic, the details given so precise, it was difficult to know what
+to make of it. And now in the evening papers there was a story of how
+a riot had taken place outside Messrs. Anthony's works. The strikers
+had attacked a blackleg. A stranger had come upon them while they
+were in the very thick of the fracas; at a word from Him the tumult
+ceased; before His presence the brawlers had scattered like chaff
+before the wind. The latest editions were full of the tale; it was in
+everybody's mouth.
+
+Christ's name was in the air, the topic of the hour. The Stranger's
+claim was, of course, absurd, unspeakable. He was an impostor, some
+charlatan; at best, a religious maniac. Similar creatures had arisen
+before, notably in the United States, though we had not been without
+them here in England, and Roman Catholic countries had had their
+share. The story of the dead woman who had been restored to life at
+St. Philip's Hospital was odd, but it was capable of natural
+explanation. To doubt this would be to write one's self down a
+lunatic, a superstitious fool, a relic of medieval ignorance. There
+is no going outside natural laws; the man who pretends to do so
+writes himself down a knave, and pays those to whom he appeals a very
+scanty compliment. Why, even the most pious of God's own ministers
+have agreed that there are no miracles, and never have been. Go to
+with your dead woman restored to life! Yet, the tale was an odd one,
+especially as it was so well attested. But then the thing was so well
+done that it seemed that those present were in a state of mind in
+which they would have been prepared to swear to anything.
+
+Still, Christ's name was in the air--in an unusual sense. It came
+from unaccustomed lips. Even the women of the pavement spoke of
+Jesus, wondering if there was such a man, and what would happen if He
+were to come again.
+
+'Suppose this fellow in the papers turned out to be Him, how would
+that be then?' one inquired of the other. Then both were silent, for
+they were uneasy; and at the first opportunity they solaced
+themselves with a drink.
+
+The men for the most part were more outspoken in ribaldry than
+the women, especially those specimens of masculinity who frequented
+at that hour the purlieus of Piccadilly Circus. Common-sense was
+their stand-by. What was not in accordance with the teachings of
+common-sense was nothing. How could it be otherwise? Judged by this
+standard, the tales which were told were nonsense, sheer and
+absolute. Therefore, in so far as they were concerned, the scoffer's
+was the proper mental attitude. The editors who wrote of them
+humorously were the level-headed men. They were only fit to be
+laughed at.
+
+'If I'd been at St. Philip's, I'd have got hold of that very
+mysterious stranger, and I'd have kept hold until I'd got from him an
+explanation of that pretty little feat of hanky-panky.'
+
+The speaker was standing at the Piccadilly corner of the Circus, by
+the draper's shop. He was a tall man, and held a cigar in his mouth.
+His overcoat was open, revealing the evening dress beneath. The man
+to whom he spoke was shorter. He was dressed in tweeds; his soft felt
+hat, worn a little on one side of his head, lent to him a mocking
+air. When the other spoke, he laughed.
+
+'I'd like to have a shy at him myself. I've seen beggars of his sort
+in India, where they do a lot of mischief, sometimes sending whole
+districts stark staring mad. But there they do believe in them; thank
+goodness we don't!'
+
+'How do you make that out, when you read the names of the people who
+are prepared to swear to the truth of the St. Philip's tale?'
+
+'My dear boy, long before this they're sorry. Fellows lost their
+heads--sort of moment of delirium, which will leave a bad taste in
+their mouths now they've got well out of it. If that mysterious
+gentleman ever comes their way again, they'll be every bit as ready
+to keep a tight hold of him as you could be.'
+
+'I wonder.' The tall man puffed at his cigar. 'I'd give--well, Grey,
+I won't say how much, but I'd give a bit to have him stand in front
+of me just here and now. That kind of fellow makes me sick. The
+common or garden preacher I don't mind; he has his uses. But the kind
+of creature who tries to trade on the folly of the great majority, by
+trying to make out that he's something which he isn't--whenever he's
+about there ought to be a pump just handy. We're too lenient to
+cattle of his particular breed.'
+
+'Suppose, Boyle, this mysterious stranger were to appear in
+Piccadilly now, what's the odds that you, for one, wouldn't try to
+plug him in the eye?'
+
+'I don't know about me, but I'm inclined to think that there are
+others who would endeavour their little best to reach him
+thereabouts. Piccadilly at this time of night is hardly the place for
+a mysterious anyone to cut a figure to much advantage. I fancy
+there'd be ructions. Anyhow, I'd like to see him come.'
+
+Mr. Boyle's tone was grim. His companion laughed; but before the
+sound of his laughter had long died out the speaker's wish was
+gratified.
+
+All in an instant, without any sort of warning, there was one of
+those scenes which occur in Piccadilly on most nights of the week. A
+woman had been drinking; she was young, new to her trade, still
+unaccustomed to the misuse of stimulants. She made a noise. A female
+acquaintance endeavoured to induce her to go away; in vain. The
+girl, pulling up her skirts, began to dance and shout, and to behave
+like a virago, among the throng of loiterers who were peopling the
+pavement. A man made some chaffing remark to her. She flew at him
+like a tiger-cat. Directly there was an uproar. There are times and
+seasons when it requires but a very little thing to transform those
+midnight Saturnalia into chaos. The police hurled themselves into the
+struggling throng, making captives of practically everyone on whom
+they could lay their hands.
+
+The crowd was in uncomfortable proximity to Mr. Grey and his friend.
+It swayed in their direction.
+
+'We'd better clear out of this, Boyle, before there's an ugly rush
+comes our way. Let's get across the road. I'm in no humour for
+skittles to-night, if you don't mind.'
+
+The speaker glanced smilingly towards the seething throng. It was the
+humorous side of the thing which appealed to him; he had seen it so
+often before. Boyle diverted his attention.
+
+'Hollo! who's this?'
+
+Someone stepped from the roadway on to the pavement, moving quickly,
+yet lightly, so that there was about His actions no appearance of
+haste. He held His hands a little raised. People made way to let Him
+pass, as if they knew that He was coming, even though He approached
+them in silence from behind.
+
+'It's Christ!'
+
+The exclamation was Grey's reply to his friend's query. Boyle,
+starting, turned to stare at him.
+
+'Grey, what do you mean?'
+
+'It's Christ! Don't you know Christ when you see him? It's the
+mysterious stranger! Why don't you go and lay fast hold on him?'
+
+Boyle stared at his friend in silence. There was that in his manner
+which was disconcerting--an obsession. The fashion of his face was
+changed; a new light was in his eyes. The big man seemed half amused,
+half startled. As he stood and listened and watched, his amusement
+diminished, his appearance of being startled grew.
+
+The crowd had given way before the Stranger, making a lane through
+which He had passed to its midst; and it was silent. The vehicles
+rumbled along the road; from the other side of the street the voices
+of newsboys assailed the air; pedestrians went ceaselessly to and
+fro; but there, where the noise had just been greatest, all was
+still--a strange calm had come on the excited throng.
+
+There were there all sorts and conditions of men and women that had
+fallen away from virtue. There were men of all ages, from white
+haired to beardless boys; from those who had drained the cup of vice
+to its uttermost dregs, yet still clutched with frantic, trembling
+fingers at the empty goblet, to those who had just begun to peep over
+its edge, and to feast their eyes on its fulness to the brim. There
+were men of all stations, from old and young rakes of fortune and
+family to struggling clerks, shop-assistants, office-boys, and those
+creatures of the gutter who rake the kennels for offal with which to
+fill their bellies. Among the women there was the same diversity.
+They were of all nations--English, French, German, and the rest; of
+all ages--grandmothers and girls who had not yet attained to the age
+of womanhood. There were some of birth and breeding, and there were
+daughters of the slums, heritors of their mothers' foulness. There
+were the comparatively affluent, and there were those who had gone
+all day hungry, and who still looked for a stroke of fortune to gain
+for them a night's lodging. But they all were the same; they all had
+painted faces, and they all were decked in silks and satins or such
+other tawdry splendour as by any crooked means they could lay their
+hands on which would serve to advertise their trade.
+
+And in the midst of this assemblage of the dregs of humanity the
+Stranger stood; and He put to them the question which was to become
+familiar ere long to not a few of the people of the city:
+
+'What is it you would do?'
+
+They returned no answer; instead, they looked at Him askance, doubt,
+hesitancy, surprise, wonder, awe, revealing themselves in varying
+degrees upon their faces as they were seen beneath the paint.
+
+Two policemen had in custody the young woman who had been the
+original cause of disturbance. Each held her by an arm. The Stranger
+turned to them.
+
+'Loose her.'
+
+Without an attempt at remonstrance they did as He bade. They took
+their hands from off her and set her free. She stood before them,
+seeming ashamed and sobered, with downcast face, seeking the pavement
+with her eyes. But all at once, as if she could not bear the silence
+any longer, she raised her head and met His glance, asking:
+
+'Who are you?'
+
+'Do you not know Me?'
+
+'Know you?'
+
+Her tone suggested that she was searching her memory to recall His
+face.
+
+'If you do not know Me now that you look on Me, then shall I never be
+known to you. Yet it is strange that it should be so, for I am the
+Friend of sinners.'
+
+'The Friend----'
+
+The girl got so far in repeating the Strangers words, then suddenly
+stopped, and, bursting into a passion of tears, threw herself on her
+knees on the pavement at His feet crying:
+
+'Lord, I know You! Have mercy upon me!'
+
+The Stranger touched her with His hand.
+
+'In that you know Me it shall be well with you.'
+
+He looked about him on the crowd.
+
+'Would that you all knew Me, even as this woman does!'
+
+But the people eyed each other, wondering. There were some who
+laughed, and others inquired among themselves:
+
+'Who is this fellow? And what is the matter with the girl, that she
+goes on like this?'
+
+One there was who cried:
+
+'Tell us who you are.'
+
+'I am He that you know not of.'
+
+'That's all right, so far as it goes, but it doesn't go far enough;
+it's an insufficient definition. What's your name?'
+
+'Day and night you call upon My name, yet do not know Me.'
+
+'Look here, my friend; are you suggesting that you're anybody in
+particular? because, if so, tell us straight out, who? We're not good
+at conundrums, and at this time of night it's not fair to start us
+solving them.'
+
+The Stranger was silent. His gaze passed eagerly from face to face.
+When He had searched them all, He cried:
+
+'Is there not one that knows Me save this woman? Is there not one?'
+
+A man came out from amidst the people, and stood in front of the
+Stranger.
+
+'I know You,' he said. 'You are Christ.'
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII
+
+                      THE ONLY ONE THAT WAS LEFT
+
+
+Stillness followed the man's words until the people began to fidget,
+and to shuffle with their feet, and to murmur:
+
+'What talk is this? What blasphemy does this man utter? Who is this
+mountebank to whom he speaks?'
+
+But the Stranger continued to look at the man who had come out from
+the crowd. And He asked him:
+
+'How is it that you know Me, since I do not know you?'
+
+The man laughed, and, as he did so, it was seen that the Stranger
+started, and drew a little back.
+
+'Because I know You, it doesn't follow that You should know me. I'd
+rather that You didn't. Directly You came into the street I knew that
+it was You, and wished You further. What do You want to trouble us
+for? Aren't we better off without You?'
+
+The Stranger held up His hand as if to keep the other from Him.
+
+'You thing all evil, return to your own kind!'
+
+The man drew back into the crowd, a little uncertainly, as if
+crestfallen, but laughing all the time. He strode off down the
+street; they could still hear his laughter as he went. The Stranger,
+with the people, seemed to listen. As the sound grew fainter He cried
+to them with a loud voice:
+
+'Save this woman and that man, is there none that knows Me? No, not
+one!'
+
+The traffic had been brought almost to a standstill. The dimensions
+of the crowd had increased. There was a block of vehicles before it
+in the street. From the roof of an omnibus, which was crowded within
+and without with passengers, there came a shout as of a strong man:
+
+'Lord, I know You! God be thanked that He has suffered me to see this
+day!'
+
+The Stranger replied, stretching out His arms in the direction in
+which the speaker was:
+
+'It is well with you, friend, and shall be better. Go, spread the
+tidings! Tell those that know Me that I am come!'
+
+There came the answer back:
+
+'Even so, Lord, I will do Your bidding; and in the city there shall
+rise the sound of a great song. Hark! I hear the angels singing!'
+
+There came over the crowd's mood one of those sudden changes to which
+such heterogeneous gatherings are essentially liable. As question and
+answer passed to and fro, and the man's voice rose to a triumphal
+strain, the people began to be affected by a curious sense of
+excitation, asking of each other:
+
+'Who, then, is this man? Is he really someone in particular? Perhaps
+he may be able to do something for us, or to give us something, if we
+ask him. Who knows?'
+
+They began to press upon Him, men and women, old and young, rich and
+poor, each with a particular request of his or her own.
+
+'Give us a trifle!'
+
+'The price of a night's lodging!'
+
+'A drop to drink!'
+
+'A cab-fare!'
+
+'Tell us who you are!'
+
+'Give us a speech!'
+
+'If you can do miracles, do one now!'
+
+'Cure the lot of us!'
+
+'Make us whole!'
+
+The requests were of all sorts and kinds. The Stranger looked upon
+the throng of applicants with glances in which were both pity and
+pain.
+
+'What I would give to you you will not have. What, then, is it that I
+shall give to you?'
+
+There was a chorus in return. For every material want He was
+entreated to provide. He shook His head.
+
+'Those things which you ask I cannot give; they are not Mine. I have
+not money, nor money's worth. There is none amongst you that is so
+poor as I am.'
+
+'Then what can you give?'
+
+'Those who would know what I can give must follow Me. The way is
+hard, and the journey long. At the end is the peace which is not of
+this world.'
+
+'Where do you go?'
+
+'Unto My Father.'
+
+'Who is your father?'
+
+'Those that know Me know also My Father.'
+
+Turning as he spoke, He began to walk in the direction of Hyde Park.
+Some of the people, apparently supposing that His injunction to
+follow Him was to be understood in a literal sense, formed in a
+straggling band behind Him. At first there were not many. His
+movement, which was unexpected, had taken the bulk of the crowd by
+surprise. For some seconds it was not generally realised that He had
+commenced to pass away. When all became aware of what was happening,
+and it was understood that the mysterious Stranger was going from
+them, another wave of excitement passed through the throng, and
+something like a rush was made to keep within sight of Him. The
+farther they went, the greater became the number of those that went
+with Him. But it was observed that none came within actual touch. He
+walked with people in front, behind, on either side, yet alone. He
+occupied an empty space in their very midst, with no one within six
+or seven feet, moving neither quickly nor slowly, with head bowed,
+and hands hanging loose at His sides, seeming to see none of those
+that went with Him; and it was as though an unseen barrier was round
+about Him which even the more presumptuous of His attendants could
+not pass.
+
+Along Piccadilly, past the shops, past Green Park, the procession
+went, growing larger and larger as it progressed. Persons, wondering
+what was the cause of the to-do, asked questions; then fell in with
+the others, curious to learn what the issue of the affair would be.
+Traffic in the road became congested. Vehicles could not proceed
+above a walking pace, because of the people who hemmed them in. Nor
+did their occupants, or their drivers, seem loath to linger with the
+throng. The police adapted their mood to that of the crowd. They saw
+men and women pouring out of restaurants and public-houses to join
+the Stranger's retinue, and were, for the most part, content to keep
+pace with it, keeping a watchful eye for what might be the possible
+upshot of the singular proceedings.
+
+At Hyde Park Corner the Stranger stopped, and it could then be seen
+to what huge proportions the throng had grown. The whole open space
+was filled with people, and when, with the Stranger's, their advance
+was stayed, pedestrians and vehicles seemed mixed in inextricable
+confusion. Probably the large majority of those present had but the
+faintest notion of what had brought them there. In obedience to a
+sudden impulse of the gregarious instinct they had joined the crowd
+because the crowd was there to join.
+
+As He stopped the Stranger raised His head, and looked about Him. He
+saw how large was the number of the people, and He said, in a voice
+which was only clearly audible to those who stood near:
+
+'It is already late. Is it not time that you should go to your homes
+and rest?'
+
+A man replied; he was a young fellow in evening dress; he had had
+more than enough to drink:
+
+'It's early yet. You don't call this late! The evening's only just
+beginning! We're game to make a night of it if you are. Where you
+lead us we will follow.'
+
+The young man's words were followed by a burst of laughter from some
+of those who heard. The Stranger sighed. Turning towards Hyde Park,
+He moved towards the open gates. The crowd opened to let Him pass,
+then closing in, it followed after. The Stranger entered the silent
+park. Crossing Rotten Row, He led the way to the grassy expanse which
+lay beyond. Not the whole crowd went with Him. The vehicles went
+their several ways, many also of the people. Some stayed, loitering
+and talking over what had happened; so far, that is, as they
+understood. These the police dispersed. Still, those who continued
+with the Stranger were not few.
+
+When He reached the grass the Stranger stopped again. The people,
+gathering closer, surrounded Him, as if expecting Him to speak. But
+He was still. They looked at Him with an eager curiosity. At first He
+did not look at them at all. So that, while with their intrusive
+glances they searched Him, as it were, from head to foot, He stood in
+their midst with bent head and downcast eyes. They talked together,
+some in whispers, and some in louder tones; and there were some who
+laughed, until, at last, a man called out:
+
+'Well, what have you brought us here for? To stand on the grass and
+catch cold?'
+
+The Stranger answered, without raising His eyes from the ground:
+
+'Is it I that have brought you here? Then it is well.'
+
+There was a titter--a woman's giggle rising above the rest. The
+Stranger, raising His head, looked towards where the speaker stood.
+
+'It were well if most of you should die to-night. O people of no
+understanding, that discern the little things and cannot see the
+greater, that have made gods of your bellies, and but minister unto
+your bodies, what profiteth it whether you live or whether you die?
+Neither in heaven nor on earth is there a place for you. What, then,
+is it that you do here?'
+
+A man replied:
+
+'It seems that you are someone in particular. We want to know who you
+are, according to your own statement.'
+
+'I am He on whose name, throughout the whole of this great city, men
+call morning, noon, and night. And yet you do not know Me. No!
+neither do those know Me that call upon Me most.'
+
+'Ever heard of Hanwell?' asked one. 'Perhaps there's some that have
+known you there.'
+
+The questioner was called to order.
+
+'Stow that! Let's know what he's got to say! Let's hear him out!'
+
+The original inquirer continued.
+
+'For what have you come here?'
+
+'For what?' The Stranger looked up towards the skies. 'It is well
+that you should ask. I am as one who has lost his way in a strange
+land, among a strange people; yet it was to Mine own I came, in Mine
+own country.'
+
+There was an interval of silence. When the inquirer spoke again, it
+was in less aggressive tones.
+
+'Sir, there is a music in your voice which seems to go to my heart.'
+
+'Friend!' The Stranger stretched out His hand towards the speaker.
+'Friend! Would that it would go to all your hearts, the music that is
+in Mine--that the sound of it would go forth to all the world! It was
+for that I came.'
+
+This time there was none that answered. It was as though
+there was that in the Stranger's words which troubled His listeners--
+which made them uneasy. Here and there one began to steal away.
+Presently, as the silence continued, the number of these increased.
+Among them was the inquirer; the Stranger spoke to him as he turned
+to go.
+
+'It was but seeming--the music which seemed to speak to your heart?'
+
+Although the words were quietly uttered, they conveyed a sting; the
+man to whom they were addressed was plainly disconcerted.
+
+'Sir, I cannot stay here all night. I am a married man; I must go
+home.'
+
+'Go home.'
+
+'Besides, the gates will soon be shut, and late hours don't agree
+with me; I have to go early to business.'
+
+'Go home.'
+
+'But, at the same time, if you wish me to stop with you--'
+
+'Go home.'
+
+The man slunk away, as if ashamed; the Stranger followed him with His
+eyes. When he had gone a few yards he hesitated, stopped, turned,
+and, when he saw that the Stranger's eyes were fixed on him, he made
+as if to retrace his steps. But the Stranger said:
+
+'Go home.'
+
+Taking the gently spoken words as a positive command, the man, as if
+actuated by an uncontrollable impulse, or by sudden fear, wheeling
+round again upon his heels, ran out of the park as fast as he was
+able. When the man had vanished, the Stranger, looking about Him,
+found that the number of His attendants had dwindled to a scanty few.
+To them He said:
+
+'Why do you stay? Why do you, also, not go home?'
+
+A fellow replied--his coat was buttoned to his chin; his hands were
+in his pockets; a handkerchief was round his neck:
+
+'Well, gov'nor, I reckon it's because some of us ain't got much of a
+'ome to go to. I know I ain't. A seat in 'ere'll be about my mark--
+that is, if the coppers'll let me be.'
+
+Again the Stranger's glance passed round the remnant which remained.
+As the fellow's speech suggested, it was a motley gathering. All
+told, it numbered, perhaps, a dozen--all that was left of the great
+crowd which had been there a moment ago. Three or four were women,
+the rest were men. They stood a little distance off, singly--one here
+and there. As far as could be seen in the uncertain light, all were
+poorly clad, most were in rags--a tatterdemalion crew, the sweepings
+of the streets.
+
+'Are you all homeless, as I am?'
+
+A man replied who was standing among those who were farthest off; he
+spoke as if the question had offended him.
+
+'I ain't 'omeless--no fear! I've got as food a 'ome as anyone need
+want to 'ave; 'm none o' yer outcasts.'
+
+'Then why do you not go to it?'
+
+'Why? I am a-goin', ain't I? I suppose I can go 'ome when I like,
+without none o' your interference!'
+
+The man slouched off, grumbling as he went, his hands thrust deep
+into his trousers pockets, his head sunk between his shoulders. And
+with him the rest of those who were left went too, some of them
+sneaking off across the grass, further into the heart of the park,
+bent nearly double, so as to get as much as possible into the shadow.
+
+The cause of this sudden and general flight was made plain by the
+approach of a policeman, shouting:
+
+'Now, then! Gates going to be closed! Out you go!'
+
+The Stranger asked of him: 'May I not stay here and sleep upon the
+grass?
+
+The policeman laughed, as if he thought the question was a joke.
+
+'Not much you mayn't! Grass is damp--might catch cold--take too much
+care of you for that.'
+
+'Where, then, can I sleep?'
+
+'I don't know where you can sleep. I'm not here to answer questions.
+You go out!
+
+The Stranger began to do as He was bid. As He was going towards the
+gate, a man came hastening to His side; he had been holding himself
+apart, and only now came out of the shadow. He was a little man; his
+eagerness made him breathless.
+
+'Sir, it's not much of a place we've got, my wife and I, but such as
+it is, we shall be glad to give You a night's lodging. I can answer
+for my wife, and the place is clean.'
+
+The Stranger looked at him, and smiled.
+
+'I thank you.'
+
+Together they went out of the park, the new-comer limping, for he was
+lame of one foot, the Stranger walking at his side. And all those
+whom they passed stopped, and turned, and looked at them as they
+went; some of them asking of themselves:
+
+'What is there peculiar about that man?'
+
+For it was as though there had been an unusual quality in the
+atmosphere as He went by.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX
+
+                          THE FIRST DISCIPLE
+
+
+'This,' said the lame man, 'is where I live. My rooms are on the
+first floor. My name is Henry Fenning. I am a shoemaker. My wife
+helps me at my trade. Our son lives with us, he's a little chap, just
+nine, and, like me, he's lame.'
+
+The man had conducted the Stranger to a street opening on to the
+Brompton Road. Even in that uncertain light it could be seen that the
+houses stood in need of repairs; they were of irregular construction,
+small, untidy, old. On the ground floor of the one in which he had
+paused was a shop, a little one; the shop front was four shutters
+wide. One surmised, from the pictures on the wall, that it sold
+sweetstuff and odds and ends. The man's manner was anxious, timid, as
+if, while desirous that his Visitor should take advantage of such
+hospitality as he could offer, he yet wished to inform Him as to the
+kind of place He might expect. The Stranger smiled; there was that in
+His smile which seemed to fill His companion with a singular sense of
+elation.
+
+'It is good of you to give Me what you can.'
+
+The shoemaker laughed gently, as if his laughter was inspired by a
+sudden consciousness of gladness.
+
+'It is good of You to take what I can give.' He opened the door.
+'Wait a moment while I show You a light.' Striking a match, he held
+it above his head. 'Take care how You come in; the boards are rough.'
+The Stranger, entering, followed His host up the narrow stairs, into
+a room on the first floor. 'Mary, I have brought you a Visitor.'
+
+At the utterance of the name the Stranger started.
+
+'Mary!' He exclaimed. 'Blessed are you among women!'
+
+It was a small apartment--work-room, living-room, kitchen, all in
+one. Implements of the shoemaker's trade were here and there; some
+partly finished boots were on a bench at one side. The man's wife was
+seated at a sewing-machine, working; she rose, as her husband
+entered, to give him greeting. She was a rosy-faced woman, of medium
+height, but broadly built, with big brown eyes, about forty years of
+age. She observed the Stranger with wondering looks.
+
+'Sir, I seem to know You.'
+
+And the Stranger said:
+
+'I know you.'
+
+The woman turned to her husband.
+
+'Who is this?'
+
+Her husband replied:
+
+'It is the Welcome Guest. Give Him to eat and to drink, and after, He
+would sleep.'
+
+The woman put some cold meat and cheese and bread upon a small table,
+which she drew into the centre of the floor.
+
+'Sir, this is all I have.'
+
+'I know it.' He took the chair which her husband offered. 'Come and
+sit and eat and drink with Me.'
+
+The man and his wife sat with Him at the table, and they ate and
+drank together. When the meal was finished, He said:
+
+'You are the first that have given Me food. What you have given Me
+shall be given you, and more.'
+
+Presently the shoemaker came to the Stranger.
+
+'Sir, in our bedroom we have only one bed. If You will sleep in it,
+my wife will make up another for us here upon the floor. We shall do
+very well.'
+
+In the bedroom the Stranger saw that a child slept in a little bed
+which was against a wall. The shoemaker explained.
+
+'It is my son. He will not trouble You. He sleeps very sound.'
+
+The Stranger bent over the bed.
+
+'In his sleep he smiles.'
+
+'Yes, he often does. He has happy dreams. And he comes of a smiling
+stock.'
+
+The Stranger turned to the lame man.
+
+'Do you often smile?'
+
+'Yes; why not? God has been very good to me.'
+
+'God is good to all alike.'
+
+'That's what my wife and I say to each other; but it's only the lucky
+ones who know it.'
+
+When the shoemaker and his wife were alone in the living-room
+together, they kissed and gave thanks unto God. For they said:
+
+'This night the Lord is with us. Blessed is the name of the Lord!'
+
+In the morning, when it was full day, the boy woke up and went to the
+bed on which the Stranger lay asleep, crying:
+
+'Father!'
+
+And the Stranger was roused, and saw the boy standing at his side. He
+stretched out His arms to him.
+
+'My son!'
+
+But the boy shrank back.
+
+'You are not my father. Where is my father and my mother?'
+
+'They are in the next room, asleep. They have given Me their bed.
+And, because they have done so, I am your Father too. So in your
+sleep you smiled?'
+
+'Did I? I expect it was because I dreamed that I was happy.'
+
+'Was your happiness but a dream?'
+
+'While I was asleep. Now I am awake I know I'm happy.'
+
+'But you are lame?'
+
+'So's father. I don't mind being lame if father is.'
+
+The Stranger was still. He smiled, and touched the child upon the
+shoulder. And the boy gave a sudden cry. He drew up his night-shirt,
+and looked down at his right leg.
+
+'Why, it's straight!--like the other.' He began to move about the
+room. 'I'm not lame! I'm not lame!' All aglow with excitement, he
+went running through the door. 'Father! mother! my leg's gone
+straight! I can run about like other boys. Look!--I'm no longer
+lame!'
+
+When his mother saw that it was so, she took him into her arms and
+cried:
+
+'My boy! my boy! God be thanked for what He has done to you this
+day!'
+
+When they saw that the Stranger was standing in the doorway the
+father and mother were silent. Their hearts were too full to find
+speech easy. But the boy ran to Him.
+
+'Oh, sir! make father's leg straight like mine!'
+
+The Stranger asked of his father:
+
+'Would you have it so?'
+
+But the lame man answered:
+
+'If it may be, let me stay as I am; for if I had not been lame I
+might never have known Your face.'
+
+To which the Stranger said:
+
+'That is a true saying. For by suffering eyes are opened; so that he
+who endures most sees best. For to all men God gives gifts.'
+
+The woman busied herself in making breakfast ready. When they were at
+table, the lame man said:
+
+'Lord, if You will not stay with us, may we come with You?'
+
+'Nay; you are with Me although you stay. For where My own are, I am.'
+
+'Lord, suffer me to come! Suffer it, Lord!'
+
+'If you will, come, until you find the way too long and the path too
+hard for your feet to travel; for the road by which I go is not an
+easy one.' He turned to the woman. 'Do you come also?'
+
+'If You will, I will stay at home, to make ready against You come
+again.'
+
+He answered:
+
+'You have not chosen the worse part.'
+
+While they had been sitting at breakfast the boy had run out into the
+street, and told first to one and then to another how, with a touch,
+a wonderful Stranger had straightened his leg, so that he was no
+longer lame. And, since they could see for themselves that he was
+healed of his lameness, the tale was quickly noised about; so that
+when the Stranger came out of the shoemaker's house, He found that a
+number of people awaited Him without. A woman came pushing through
+the crowd, bearing a crooked child in her arms.
+
+'Heal my son also! Make him straight like the other!'
+
+And being moved by pity for the child, He touched him, so that he
+sprang from his mother's arms, and stood before them whole. And all
+the people were amazed, saying:
+
+'What manner of man is this, that makes the lame to walk with a
+touch?'
+
+So when He came out into the Brompton Road He was already attended by
+a crowd, some crying:
+
+'This is the man who works miracles!'
+
+Others:
+
+'Bring out your sick!'
+
+With each step He took the crowd increased, so that when He came to
+the narrow part of Knightsbridge the street became choked and the
+traffic blocked. The people, because there were so many, pressed
+against Him so that He could not move, and there began to be danger
+of a riot.
+
+The lame man, who found it difficult to keep close to His side, said
+to Him:
+
+'Lord, if You do not send them from us we shall be hurt.'
+
+But He replied:
+
+'It is to these I have come, although they know it not. If I send
+them from us, why did I come?'
+
+When they reached that portion of the road where it grows wider in
+front of the park, the pressure became less. But still the crowd
+increased.
+
+'He goes to the hospital,' they cry, 'to heal the sick with a touch.'
+
+And some ran on to St. George's Hospital, and pushed past the porters
+up the stairs and into the wards, and began to lift the sick out of
+their beds. And those who could walk, being persuaded by them that
+had run on, went out into the streets. So that when He came, He found
+awaiting Him a strange collection of the sick, who were ill of all
+manner of diseases. And the people cried:
+
+'Heal them!--heal them with a touch!'
+
+But He replied:
+
+'What is it you ask of Me? I came not to heal the sick, but to call
+sinners to repentance.'
+
+They cried the more:
+
+'Heal them!--heal them with a touch!'
+
+'If I heal them, what then? Of what shall they be healed? Of what
+avail to heal the body if the spirit continues sick?'
+
+But they persisted in their exclamations. While still they pressed on
+Him, an inspector of police edged his way through the crowd.
+
+'I don't know who you are, sir, but you are doing a very dangerous
+thing in causing these people to behave like this.'
+
+'Suffer Me first to do as they ask.'
+
+He stretched out His hand and touched those that were sick, so that
+they were whole. But when they came to look for Him who had done them
+this service, behold He was gone. And the lame man had gone with Him.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER X
+
+                            THE DEPUTATION
+
+
+He came, with His disciple to a gate which led into a field, through
+which there ran a stream. It was high noon. He entered the gate, and
+sat beside the stream. And the lame man sat near by. The Stranger
+watched the water as it plashed over the stones on its race to the
+mill. When presently He sighed, the lame man said:
+
+'I have money; there is a village close handy. Let me go and buy
+food, and bring it to you here.'
+
+But He answered:
+
+'We shall not want for food. There is one who comes to offer it to us
+now.'
+
+Even as He spoke a carriage drew up in the road on the other side of
+the hedge. A lady, standing up in it, looked through a pair of
+glasses into the field. Bidding the footman open the carriage-door,
+alighting, she came through the gate to where He sat with His
+disciple beside the stream. She was a woman of about forty years of
+age, very richly dressed. As she walked, with her skirts held well
+away from the grass, she continued to stare through the glasses,
+which were attached to a long gold handle. Looking from one to the
+other, her glance rested, on the Stranger.
+
+I Are you the person of whom such extraordinary stories are being
+told? You look it--you must be--you are. George Horley just told me
+he saw you on the Shaldon Road. I don't know how he knew it was you--
+and his manner was most extraordinary--but he's a sharp fellow, and I
+shouldn't be surprised if he was right. Tell me, are you that
+person?'
+
+'I am He that you know not of.'
+
+'My dear sir, that doesn't matter one iota. What I've heard of you is
+sufficient introduction for me. I don't know if you're aware that
+this field is mine, and that you're trespassing. I'm very particular
+about not allowing the villagers to come in here--they will go after
+the mushrooms. But if you'll take a seat in my carriage I shall be
+very happy to put you up for a day or two. I'm Mrs. Montara, of Weir
+Park. I have some very delightful people staying with me, who will be
+of the greatest service to you in what I understand is your
+propaganda. Most interesting what I've heard of you, I'm sure.' The
+Stranger was silent. 'Well, will you come?'
+
+'Woman, return to your own place. Leave Me in peace.'
+
+'I don't admire your manners, my good man, especially after my going
+out of my way to be civil to you. Is that all the answer you have to
+give?'
+
+'What have I to do with you, or you with Me? I am not that new thing
+which you seek. I am of old.'
+
+He looked at her. The great lady shrank back a little, as if abashed.
+
+'Whoever you are, I shall be glad to have you as my guest.'
+
+'I am not found in rich women's houses. They are too poor. They offer
+nothing. They seek only to obtain.'
+
+'I offer you, in the way of hospitality, whatever you may want.'
+
+'You cannot offer Me the one thing which I desire.'
+
+'What is that?'
+
+'That you should know Me even as you are known. For unless you know
+Me I have nothing, and less than nothing, and there is nothing in the
+world that is at all to be desired. For if I have come unto Mine own,
+and they know Me not, then My coming indeed is vain. Go! Strip
+yourself and your house, and be ashamed. In the hour of your shame
+come to Me again.'
+
+'If that's the way you talk to me, get up and leave my field, before
+I have you locked up for trespass.'
+
+He stood up, and said to the lame man:
+
+'Come!'
+
+And they went out of the field, and passed through that place without
+staying to eat or drink. In the next village an old woman, who was
+standing at a cottage gate, stopped them as they were passing on.
+
+'You are tired. Come in and rest.'
+
+And they entered into her house. And she gave them food, refusing the
+money which the lame man offered.
+
+'I have a spare bedroom. You can have it if you'd like to stay the
+night, and you'll be kindly welcome.'
+
+So they stayed with her that night.
+
+And in the morning, while it was yet early, they arose and went upon
+their way. And when they had gone some distance they heard on the
+road behind them the sound of a horse's hoofs. And when they turned,
+they saw that a wagonette was being driven hotly towards them. When,
+on reaching them, it stopped, they saw that it contained five men.
+One, leaning over the side, said to the Stranger:
+
+'Are you he we are looking for?'
+The Stranger replied:
+
+'I am He whom you seek.'
+
+'That is,' added a second man, 'you are the individual who is stated
+to have been performing miracles in London?'
+
+The Stranger only said:
+
+'I am He whom you seek.'
+
+'In that case,' declared the first speaker, 'we are very fortunate.'
+
+He scrambled out on to the road, a short, burly man, with restless
+bright eyes and an iron-gray beard. He wore a soft, round, black felt
+hat, and was untidily dressed. He seemed to be in perpetual movement,
+in striking contrast to the Stranger's immutable calm.
+
+'Will you come with us in the wagonette?' he demanded. 'Or shall
+we say what we have to say to you here? It is early; we're in the
+heart of the country; no one seems about. If we cross the stile
+which seems to lead into that little copse, we could have no better
+audience-chamber, and need fear no interruption.'
+
+'Say what you have to say to Me here.'
+
+'Good! Then, to begin with, we'll introduce ourselves.'
+
+His four companions were following each other out of the wagonette.
+As they descended he introduced each one in turn.
+
+'This is Professor Wilcox Wilson, the pathologist. Professor Wilson
+does not, however, confine himself to one subject, but is interested
+in all live questions of the day; and, while he keeps an open mind,
+seeks to probe into the why and wherefore of all varieties of
+phenomena. This is the Rev. Martin Philipps, the eminent preacher and
+divine, who joins to a liberal theology a far-reaching interest in
+the cause of suffering humanity. Augustus Jebb, perhaps the greatest
+living authority on questions of social science and the welfare of
+the wage-earning classes. John Anthony Gibbs, who may be said to
+represent the religious conscience of England in the present House of
+Commons. I myself am Walter S. Treadman, journalist, student,
+preacher, and, I hope, humanitarian. I only know that where there is
+a cry of pain, there my heart is. I heard that you were in this
+neighbourhood, and lost no time in requesting these gentlemen to
+associate themselves with me in the appeal which I am about to make
+to you. Therefore I beg of you to regard me as, in a sense, a
+deputation from England. Your answer will be given to England. And on
+that account, if no other, we implore you to weigh, with the utmost
+care, any words which you may utter. To come to the point: Do we
+understand you to assert that the feats with which you have set all
+London agape are, in the exact sense of the word, miraculous--that
+is, incapable of a natural interpretation?'
+
+'Why do you speak such words to Me?'
+
+'For an obvious reason. England is at heart religious. Though, for
+the moment, she may seem torpid, it needs but a breath to fan the
+smouldering embers into a mighty blaze which will light the world,
+and herald in the brightness of the eternal dawn. If these things
+which you have done are of God, then you must be of Him, and from
+Him, and may be the bearer of a message to the myriads whose ears are
+strained to listen. Therefore I implore you to answer.'
+
+'What I have done, I have done not as a sign, nor to be magnified in
+the eyes of men, but to dry the tears which were in their eyes.'
+
+'Then they were miracles. So the question at once assumes another
+phase--Who are you?'
+
+'I am He whom you know not of, though you call often on My name.'
+
+'You are the Christ--the Lord Christ?'
+
+Professor Wilson laid his hand on Mr. Treadman's arm.
+
+'You go too fast. No such assertion has been made; no such claim has
+been put forth. I may add that there has been no such outrage on good
+taste.'
+
+The Rev. Martin Philipps interposed.
+
+'Good taste is not necessarily outraged by such a claim; or, if it is
+now, it was also at the first. Jesus was a man, such as we are, such
+as this one here.'
+
+Mr. Jebb agreed.
+
+'And a labouring man at that. He worked with His own hands--a
+wage-earner if ever there was one.'
+
+'But,' pleaded the Professor, 'at least something was known of His
+pedigree, of His credentials.'
+
+'I am not so sure of that.'
+
+'Nor I.'
+
+'At any rate, let us proceed as if we were reasonable beings, and
+actuated by the dictates of common-sense. Permit me to put one or two
+questions: Are you an Englishman?'
+
+'I am of a country which also you know not of. Thither I return to
+meet Mine own.'
+
+'Your answer is evasive. Allow me to point out, with the greatest
+possible deference, that it is on record how Jesus originally damaged
+His own case by the vagueness of the replies which He gave to
+questions and the want of lucidity which characterised His
+description of Himself. If you claim any, even the remotest,
+connection with Him, let me advise you to avoid His errors.'
+
+'You know not what you say, you fool of wisdom!'
+
+'Lord,' cried Mr. Treadman,' I believe--help Thou my unbelief! I
+believe because faith is the great want of the age, and it shall
+remove mountains; I believe because belief is like the pinch of yeast
+which, being dropped into the dough, leavens the whole. The leaven
+spreads through the whole body politic, so that out of a little thing
+proceeds a great. And, Lord, suffer Thy servant to entreat with Thee.
+Lose no time. Thy people wait--have waited long; they cry aloud; they
+look always for the little speck upon the sky; they lift up their
+hands and beat against heaven's gates. Speak but the word--the one
+word which Thou canst speak so easily! A whole world will leap into
+Thy arms.'
+
+'Their will, not mine, be done?'
+
+'Nay, Lord, not so--not so! Esteem me not guilty of such presumption;
+but I have lived among them, and have seen how the world labours and
+is in pain, and how Thy people are crushed beneath heavy burdens
+which press them down almost to the confines of the pit. And
+therefore out of the fulness and anguish of my knowledge I cry: Lord,
+come quickly--come quickly! Lose not a moment's time!'
+
+'Your knowledge is greater than Mine?'
+
+'Nay, Lord, I do not say that, nor think it. But Thou art immortal;
+Thy children are mortal--very mortal. I understand the agony of
+longing with which they look for Your presence--Your very presence--
+in their midst.'
+
+'They that know Me know that I am ever with them. They that do not
+know Me know not that they see Me before their eyes.'
+
+'You speak in a spiritual sense, I in a material. I know with what a
+passionate yearning they desire to see you with their mortal eyes,
+flesh of their flesh, bone of their bone--a man like unto
+themselves.'
+
+'You also seek a sign?'
+
+'Who does not seek a sign? The soldier watches for the sign which
+shows that his general is in command; the child looks for the sign
+which proclaims his parent is at hand; the explorer searches for the
+sign which shows his guide is leading him aright. There is chaos
+where there is no sign.'
+
+'Did I not say I am He you know not of? Those who know Me need no
+sign.'
+
+'Nor, in that sense, do I need one either. I have been unfortunate in
+my choice of words if I have conveyed the impression that I do.'
+
+'I have suffered you too much.' He turned to the lame man. 'Come!'
+
+The Stranger and His disciple were continuing on their way when Mr.
+Treadman's companions placed themselves in the path.
+
+'Mr. Treadman's well-known command of language,' explained the
+Professor, 'is likely to obscure the purpose of our presence here. We
+have come to ask you to accompany us to town as our guest, and to
+avail yourself of our services in placing, in the most efficient and
+practical manner possible, your views and wishes before the country
+as a whole.'
+
+'In other words,' observed the Rev. Martin Philipps, 'we are here as
+the Lord's servants, desirous to do His work and His will.'
+
+'Having at heart,' continued Mr. Jebb, 'the welfare--spiritual,
+moral, and physical--of the struggling millions.'
+
+'Acting also,' added Mr. Gibbs, 'as the mouthpiece of Christ's
+kingdom as it exists in our native land.'
+
+The Professor's tone, as he commented on his colleagues' remarks, was
+a little grim.
+
+'What my friends say is, no doubt, very excellent in its way; but the
+main point still is--Will you come with us? If so, here is a
+conveyance. You have only to jump in at once, and we shall be in time
+to catch a fast train back to town. My strong advice to you is, Be
+practical, and come.'
+
+'Suffer Me to go My way.'
+
+'Is that your answer? Remember that history records how, on a
+previous occasion, a great opportunity was frittered away for lack of
+a little business acumen. There can be no doubt that the great need
+of the hour is a practical religion. It is quite within the range of
+possibility that you might go far towards placing such a propaganda
+on a solid basis. Consider, therefore; before you treat our offer
+with contempt.'
+
+He made no answer, but went along the road, with the lame man at His
+side.
+
+For some seconds the deputation stood staring after Him. Then the
+Professor gave expression to his feelings in these words:
+
+'An impracticable person.'
+
+The Rev. Martin Philipps had something to say on this curt summing up
+of the position.
+
+'I think, Professor, that what you call practicality is likely to be
+your stumbling-block. In your sense, God is not always practical.'
+
+'In a country of practical men that is unfortunate.'
+
+'When you say practical you mean material. There is something higher
+than materiality.'
+
+'The material and the spiritual, Philipps, are more closely allied
+than you may suppose. It is useless to ask a mere man to give primary
+attention to his spiritual wants when, in a material sense, he lacks
+everything. To formulate such a demand, even by inference, is to play
+into the hands of the plutocracy.'
+
+'Still,' remarked Mr. Gibbs,' I think there might have been more said
+of the things of the soul, and less of the things of the body. It is
+the soul of England we are here to plead for, not its mere corporeal
+husk.'
+
+While they talked Mr. Treadman stood looking after the retreating
+Stranger. Suddenly he started running, calling as he went:
+
+'Lord, Lord, suffer that I may come with You!'
+
+He went on, with the lame man at His side, and Mr. Treadman at His
+heels, calling persistently: 'Suffer that I may come with You!' until
+presently He turned, saying:
+
+'Why do you continue to entreat that I should suffer you? Have I
+forbidden you to come?'
+
+For a time Mr. Treadman was still. But continually he broke again
+into speech, talking of this thing and of that.
+
+But there was none that answered him.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI
+
+                         THE SECOND DISCIPLE
+
+
+They lay that night at the house of a certain curate, who stopped the
+Stranger, saying:
+
+'You are he of whom I have heard?'
+
+Mr. Treadman said:
+
+'It is the Lord--the Lord Christ! He has come again!'
+
+The Stranger rebuked Mr. Treadman.
+
+'Peace! Why do you trouble Me with your babbling tongue?' To the
+curate He said: 'What do you want of Me?'
+
+'Nothing but to offer you shelter for the night. I cannot give you
+much, for I am poor, and have a small house and a large family, but
+such as I have is at your service. Not that I wish you to understand
+that my action marks my approval of your proceedings, of which, as I
+say, I have heard. For I am an ordained priest of the Church of
+England, and have sufficient trouble with dissent and such-like fads
+already. But I am a Christian, and, I trust, a gentleman, and in that
+dual capacity would not wish one of whom I have heard such remarkable
+things to remain in need of shelter when near my house.'
+
+So they went with the curate. But the family was found to be so
+large, and the house so small, that there was not room within its
+walls for three unexpected guests. So it was arranged that they would
+sleep in the loft over the stable where hay was kept. Thither, after
+supper, the Stranger and the lame man repaired. But Mr. Treadman
+remained talking to the host.
+
+They stood outside the house in the moonlight, looking towards the
+loft in which the Stranger sought slumber.
+
+'That is a good man,' said the curate, 'and a strange one. He has
+filled my mind with curious thoughts.'
+
+'It is the Lord! said Mr. Treadman.
+
+'The Lord?' The curate regarded the speaker with a peculiar smile.
+'Are you mad, sir? Or do you think I am?'
+
+'It is the Lord!' Mr. Treadman held out his clenched fists in front
+of him, as if to add weight to his assertion. 'I know it of a
+surety!'
+
+'Does it not occur to you what an awful thing it would be if what you
+say were true?' Awful? How awful?'
+
+'When He came before He found them unprepared--so unprepared that
+they could not believe it was He. What would it not mean if, at His
+Second Coming, He found us still unready? He might be moving among
+us, and we not know it; we might meet Him in the street, and pass Him
+by. The human mind is not at its best when it is wholly unprepared:
+it cannot twist itself hither and thither without even a moment's
+notice. And our civilisation is so complex that the first result of
+an unexpected Advent would be to plunge it into chaos. Saints and
+sinners alike would be thrown off their balance. There would be a
+carnival of confusion. The tragedy which rings down the ages might be
+re-enacted. Christ might be crucified again by Christian hands.'
+
+'We must avoid it! We must avoid it! We must prepare the people's
+minds; we must let them know that His reign is about to begin. They
+need but the knowledge to fill the world with songs of gladness.'
+
+'You really believe your friend is a supernatural being?'
+
+'It is the Lord! I know it of a surety! You call yourself His
+minister. Is it possible you do not know Him, too?'
+
+'No; I do not. For one thing, I do not think that, really and truly,
+I have ever contemplated the possibility of such an occurrence. To me
+the Second Coming has been an abstraction--a nebulous something that
+would not happen in my time. Yet he troubles me, the more so since I
+remember that good men must have stood in His presence aforetime, and
+yet not have known Him for what He was, although He troubled them.
+However, it may be written to the good of my account that for your
+friend I have done what I could.'
+
+The curate returned into his house. But it was long before Mr.
+Treadman sought the shelter of the loft. He passed here and there in
+an agony of mind which grew greater as the night went on. By the
+light of the waning moon he wrought himself into a frenzy of
+supplication.
+
+'O Lord, I say it in no spirit of irreverence, but in a sense, You do
+not understand the idiosyncrasies and character of those to whom You
+are about to appeal. To come to them unheralded, to move about among
+them unannounced, will be useless--ah, and worse than useless! O
+Lord, do not take them by surprise. Sound, at least, one trumpet
+blast. Come to them as You should come--as their Christ and King. It
+needs such a very little, and You will have them at Your feet. Do not
+lose all for want of such a little. Let me tell them You are on the
+way, that You are here, that You are in their very midst. Let me be
+John Baptist. I promise You that I shall not be a voice crying in the
+wilderness, but that at the proclamation of the tidings, trumpeted by
+all the presses of the land, and from ten thousand pulpits, from all
+the cities and the villages will issue happy, hot-footed crowds,
+eager to look upon the face they have had pictured in their hearts
+their whole lives long, and on the form they have yearned to see,
+filled with but one desire--to lay themselves at the feet of their
+Christ and King! But, Lord, if no one tells them You are here, how
+shall they know it? They are but foolish folk, fashioned as Thou
+knowest they are fashioned. If You come upon them at the market or
+the meeting, and take them unawares, they will not know that it is
+You. Suffer me first to spread the glad tidings through all the land.
+I have but to put a plain statement on the wires, and foot it with my
+name, and there is not a newspaper in an English-speaking country
+which will not give it a prominent place in its morning's issue.
+Suffer me at least to do so much as that.'
+
+The figure of the Stranger appeared at the door which led into the
+loft; and He spoke to Mr. Treadman, saying:
+
+'You know not what are the things of which you speak, as is the
+manner of men. Are you, then, so ignorant as not to be aware that
+God's ways are not as men's? Let your soul cease from troubling. God
+asks not to learn of you. He made you; He holds you in the hollow of
+His hand; you are the dust of the balance. Come, and sleep.'
+
+Mr. Treadman went up into the loft, crying like a child. Almost as
+soon as he laid himself down among the sweetness of the hay his tears
+were dried, and his eyes were closed in slumber. And he and the lame
+man slept together.
+
+But the Stranger sought not sleep. Through the night He did not close
+His eyes. As the day came near He stood looking down upon the
+sleepers. And His face was sorrowful.
+
+'Men are but little children: if they had but the heart of a child!'
+
+And He went down the loft out into the morning.
+
+And presently the lame man woke up and found that he was alone with
+Mr. Treadman. So he began to scramble down the ladder. As he went,
+because of his haste and his lameness, he stumbled and fell. The
+noise of his fall woke Mr. Treadman, who hurried down the ladder
+also. At the foot he found the lame man, who was rising to his feet.
+
+'Are you hurt?' he asked.
+
+'I think not. I am only shaken. The Lord has gone!'
+
+'Gone! Lean on me. We will find Him.'
+
+The two went out into the lifting shadows, the lame man on Mr.
+Treadman's arm. The country was covered by a morning mist. It was
+damp and cold. The light was puzzling. Mr. Treadman looked to the
+right and left.
+
+'Which way can He have gone?'
+
+'There! there He is! I see Him on the road. My leg is better; let us
+hasten. We shall catch Him.'
+
+'No. Do not let us catch Him. Let us follow and see which way He
+goes. I have a reason.'
+
+'But He will know you are following, and your reason.'
+
+'May be. Still let us follow.'
+
+Mr. Treadman had his way. They followed at a distance. As was his
+habit, Mr. Treadman talked as he went.
+
+'It is strange that He should try to leave us like this, when He
+knows that we would leave no stone unturned to follow Him, through
+life, to death.'
+
+'It is not strange. He does nothing strange.'
+
+'You think not?'
+
+'How can the Lord of all the earth do wrong?'
+
+'There is something in that.' Mr. Treadman was still for a time. 'Yet
+He runs a great risk of wrecking His entire cause.' The lame man said
+nothing. 'It is necessary that the people should be told that He is
+coming, that their minds should be prepared. If they have authentic
+information of His near neighbourhood, then He will triumph at once
+and for always. If not--if He comes on them informally, unheralded,
+unannounced, then there will be a frightful peril of His cause being
+again dragged in the mire.'
+
+Yet the lame man said nothing. But Mr. Treadman continued to talk,
+apparently careless of the fact that he had the conversation to
+himself.
+
+When they came to a place where there were cross-roads, and Mr.
+Treadman saw which way He went, he caught the lame man by the arm.
+
+'I thought as much! He's heading for London.'
+
+Taking out a note-book, he began to write in it with a fountain pen,
+still continuing to walk and to talk.
+
+'I know this country well. There's a telegraph-office about a mile
+along the road. It ought to be open by the time we get there. If it
+isn't, I'll rouse them up. I'll send word to some friends of mine--
+men and women whose lifelong watchword has been God and His gospel--
+that He is coming. They will run to meet Him. They will bring with
+them some of the brightest spirits now living; and He will have a
+foretaste of that triumph which, if matters are properly organised,
+awaits Him. He shall enter on His inheritance as the Christ and King,
+and pain, sin, sorrow, shall cease throughout the world, if He will
+but suffer me to make clear the way. Tell me, my friend,--you don't
+appear to be a loquacious soul,--don't you think that to be prepared
+is half the battle?'
+
+But the lame man made no reply. He only kept his eyes fixed on the
+Figure which went in front.
+
+His companion's irresponsive mood did not appear to trouble Mr.
+Treadman. He never ceased to talk and write, except when he broke
+into the words of a hymn, which he sung in a loud, clear voice, as if
+he wished that all the country-side should hear.
+
+'There,' he cried, after they had gone some distance, 'is the place I
+told you of. The village is just round the bend in the road. If I
+remember rightly, the post-office is on the left as you enter. Soon
+the telegraph shall be on the side of the Lord, and the glad tidings
+be flashing up to town. We're not twenty miles from London. Within an
+hour a reception committee should be on the way. Before noon many
+longing eyes will have looked with knowledge on the face of the Lord;
+and joyful hearts shall sing: "Hosanna in the highest! Hallelujah!
+Christ has come!"'
+
+On their coming to the village Mr. Treadman made haste to the
+post-office. It was not yet open. He began a violent knocking at the
+door.
+
+'I must rouse them up. Official hours are as nothing in such a case
+as this. I must get my messages upon the wires at once, whatever it
+may cost.'
+
+The lame man made all haste to reach the Stranger that went in front,
+passing alone through the quiet village street.
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 II
+
+                       The Tumult which Arose
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XII
+
+                         THE CHARCOAL-BURNER
+
+
+When Mr. Treadman had brought the post-office to a consciousness of
+his presence, and induced the postmaster, with the aid of copious
+bribes, to do what he desired, some time had passed. On his return
+into the street neither the Stranger nor the lame man was in sight.
+At this, however, he was little concerned, making sure of the way
+they had gone, and of his ability to catch them up. But after he had
+gone some distance, at the top of his speed, and still saw no sign of
+the One he sought, he began to be troubled.
+
+'They might have waited. The Lord knew that I was engaged upon His
+work. Why has He thus left me in the lurch?'
+
+A cart approached. He hailed the driver.
+
+'Have you seen, as you came along, two persons walking along the road
+towards London?'
+
+'Ay; about half a mile ahead.'
+
+'Half a mile! So much as that! I shall never catch them if I walk.
+You will have to give me a lift, and make all haste after them.'
+
+He began to bargain with the driver, who, agreeing to his terms,
+permitted him to climb into his cart, and turning his horse's head,
+set off after those of whom he had spoken. But they were nowhere to
+be seen.
+
+'It was here I passed them.'
+
+'Probably they are a little further on. Drive more quickly. We shall
+see them in a minute. The winding road hides them, and the hedges.'
+
+The driver did as he was bid. But though he went on and on, he saw
+nothing of those whom he was seeking. Mr. Treadman began to be
+alarmed.
+
+'It is a most extraordinary thing. Where can He have got to? Is it
+possible that that lame fellow can have told Him of the message I was
+sending, and that He has purposely given me the slip? If so, I shall
+be placed in an embarrassing position. These people are sure to come.
+Mrs. Powell and Gifford will be off in an instant. They have been
+looking for the Lord too long not to make all haste to see Him now.
+For all I know, they may bring half London with them. If they find
+they have come for nothing, the situation will be awkward. My
+reputation will be damaged. I ask it with all possible reverence, but
+why is the Lord so little mindful of His own?'
+
+The driver stopped his horse.
+
+'You must get out here. I must go back. I'll be late as it is.'
+
+'Go back! My man, you must press forward. It is for the Lord that I
+am looking.'
+
+'The Lord!'
+
+'The Lord Christ. He has come to us again, this time to win the world
+as a whole, and for ever; and by some frightful accident I have
+allowed Him to pass out of my sight.'
+
+'I've heard tell of something of the kind. But I don't take no count
+of such things. There's some as does; but I'm not one. I tell you you
+must get out. I'm more than late enough already.'
+
+Left stranded in the middle of the road, Mr. Treadman stared after
+the retreating carter.
+
+'The man has no spiritual side; he's a mere brute! In this age of
+Christianity and its attendant civilisation, it's wonderful that such
+creatures should continue to exist. If there are many such, it is a
+hard task which He has set before Him. He will need all the help
+which we can give. Why, then, does he seem to slight the efforts of
+His faithful servant? I don't know what will happen if those people
+find that they have come from town for nothing. His cause may receive
+an almost irreparable injury at the very start.'
+
+Those people came. The messages with which he troubled the wires were
+of a nature to induce them to come. There was Mrs. Miriam Powell,
+whose domestic unhappiness has not prevented her from doing such good
+work among fallen women, that it is surprising how their numbers
+still continue to increase. And there was Harvey Gifford, the founder
+of that Christian Assistance Society which has done such incalculable
+service in providing cheap entertainments for the people, and which
+ceaselessly sends to the chief Continental pleasure resorts hordes of
+persons, in the form of popular excursions, whose manners and customs
+are hardly such as are even popularly associated with Christianity.
+When these two Christian workers received Mr. Treadman's telegram,
+phrased in the quaint Post-Office fashion--'Christ is coming to
+London the Christ I have seen him and am with him and I know he is
+here walking on the highroad come to him and let your eyes be
+gladdened meet him if possible between Guildford and Ripley I will
+endeavour to induce him to come that way about eleven spread the glad
+tidings so that he enters London as one that comes into his own this
+is the Lord's doing this is the day of the Lord we triumph all along
+the line the stories told of his miracles are altogether inadequate
+state that positively to all inquirers as from me no more can be said
+within the limits of a telegram for your soul's sake fail not to be
+on the Ripley road in time the faithful servant of the Lord--
+Treadman'--their minds were made up on the instant. London was
+ringing with inchoate rumours. Scarcely within living memory had the
+public mind been in a state of more curious agitation. The truth or
+falsehood of the various statements which were made was the subject
+of general controversy. Where two or three were gathered together,
+there was discussed the topic of the hour. It seemed, from Treadman's
+telegram, that he of whom the tales were told was coming back in
+town, which he had quitted in such mysterious fashion. It seemed that
+Treadman himself actually believed he was the Christ.
+
+Could two such single-minded souls, in the face of such a message,
+delay from making all haste in the direction of the Ripley road?
+
+Yet before they went, and as they went, they did their best to spread
+the tidings. Mr. Treadman had done his best to spread them too. He
+had sent messages to heads of the Salvation and Church Armies, and of
+the various great religious societies, to ministers of all degrees
+and denominations, and, indeed, to everyone of whom, in his haste, he
+could think as being, in a religious or philanthropic, or, in short,
+in any sense, in that curious place--the public eye.
+
+And presently various specimens of these persons were on their way to
+the Ripley road--some journeying by train, some on foot, some on
+horseback; a large number, both men and women, upon bicycles, and
+others in as heterogeneous a collection of vehicles as one might wish
+to see. Sundry battalions of the Salvation Army confided themselves
+to vans such as are used for beanfeasts and Sunday-School treats.
+They shouted hymns; their bands made music by the way.
+
+He whom all these people were coming out to see had gone with the
+lame man across a field-path to a little wood, which lay not far from
+the road. In the centre of the wood they found a clearing, where the
+charcoal-burners had built their huts and plied their trade. An old
+man watched the smouldering heap. He sat on some billets of wood, one
+of which he was carving with a clumsy knife. The Stranger found a
+seat upon another heap, and the lame man placed himself, cobbler
+fashion, upon the turf at His side. For some moments nothing was
+said. Then the old man broke the silence.
+
+'Strangers hereabouts?'
+
+He replied:
+
+'My abiding-place is not here.'
+
+'So I thought. I fancied I hadn't seen you round about these parts;
+yet there's something about you I seem to know. Come in here to
+rest?'
+
+'It is good to rest.'
+
+'That's so; there's nothing like it when you're tired. You look as if
+you was tired, and you look as if you'd known trouble. There's a
+comfortable look upon your face which never comes upon a man or
+woman's face unless they have known trouble. I always says that no
+one's any good until it shines out of their eyes.'
+
+'Sorrow and joy walk hand in hand.'
+
+'That's it: they walk hand in hand, and you never know one till
+you've known the other, just as you never know what health is till
+you've had to go without it. Do you see what I'm doing here? I'm a
+charcoal-burner by trade, but by rights I ought to have been a
+wood-carver. There's few men can do more with a knife and a bit of
+wood than I can. All them as knows me knows it. That's a cross I'm
+carving. My daughter's turned religious, and she's a fancy that I
+should cut her a cross to hang in her room, so that, as she says, she
+can always think of Christ crucified. To me that's a queer start. I
+always think of Him as Christ crowned.'
+
+'He is crowned.'
+
+'Of course He is. As I put it, what He done earned Him the V.C. It's
+with that cross upon His breast I like to think of Him. In what He
+done I can't see what people see to groan about. It was something to
+glory in, to be proud of.'
+
+'He was crucified by those to whom He came.'
+
+'There is that. They must have been a silly lot, them Jews. They
+didn't know what they was doing of.'
+
+'Which man knows what he does, or will let God know, either?'
+
+'It's a sure and certain thing that some of us ain't over and above
+wise. There do be a good many fools about. I mind that I said to my
+daughter a good score times: "Don't you have that Jim Bates." But she
+would. Now he's took himself off and she's took to religion. It's a
+true fact she didn't know what she was doing of when she had him.'
+
+'Did Jim Bates know what he was doing?'
+
+'I shouldn't be surprised but what he didn't. He never did know much,
+did Jim. It isn't everyone as can live with my daughter, as he had
+ought to have known. She's kept house for me these twelve year, so I
+do know. She always were a contrary piece, she were.'
+
+'The world is full of discords, but He who plays upon it tunes one
+note after another. In the end it will be all in tune.'
+
+'There's a good many of us as'll wish that we was deaf before that
+time comes.'
+
+'Because many men are deaf they take no heed of the harmonies.'
+
+'There's something in that. I shouldn't wonder but what there's a lot
+of music as no one notices. The more you speak, the more I seem to
+know you. You're like a voice I've heard talking to me when the
+speaker was hid by the darkness.'
+
+'I have spoken to you often.'
+
+'Ay, I believe you have. I thought I knew you from the first. I felt
+so comfortable when you came. All the morning I've been troubled,
+what with worries at home and the pains what seems all over me, so
+that I can't move about as I did use to; and then when I saw you
+coming along the path all the trouble was at an end.'
+
+'I heard you calling as I passed along the road.'
+
+'You heard me calling? Why, I never opened my mouth!'
+
+'Not the words of the lips are heard in heaven, but none ever called
+from his heart in vain.'
+
+The charcoal-burner rose from his heap of billets.
+
+'Why, who are you?' He came closer, peering with his dim eyes. 'It is
+the Lord! What an old fool I am not to have known You from the first!
+Yet I felt that it was You.'
+
+'You know Me, although you knew Me not.'
+
+'And me that's known You all my life, and my old woman what knew You
+too! Anyhow, I'd have seen You before long.'
+
+'You have seen Me from the first.'
+
+'Not plain--not plain. I've heard You, and I've known that You was
+there, but I haven't seen You as I've tried to. You know the sort of
+chap I am--a silly old fool what's been burning since I was a little
+nipper. I ain't no scholar. The likes of me didn't have no schooling
+when I was young, and I ain't no hand at words; but You know how I'm
+all of a twitter, and there ain't no words what will tell how glad I
+am to see You. Like the silly old jackass that I am, I'm a-cryin'!'
+
+The Stranger stood up, holding out His hand.
+
+'Friend!'
+
+The charcoal-burner put his gnarled, knotted, and now trembling hand
+into the Stranger's palm.
+
+'Lord! Lord!'
+
+'So often I have heard you call upon My Name.'
+
+'Ay, in the morning when the day was young; at noon, when the work
+was heavy; at night, when rest had come. Youth and man, You've been
+with me all the time, and with my old woman, too.'
+
+'She and I met long since.'
+
+'My old woman! She was a good one to me, she was.'
+
+'And to Me.'
+
+'A better wife no man could have. It weren't all lavender, her life
+wasn't, but it smelt just as sweet as if it were.'
+
+'The perfume of it ascended into heaven.'
+
+'My temper, it be short. There were days when I was sharp with her.
+She'd wait till it was over, and me ashamed, and then she'd say:
+"Each time, William, you be in a passion it do bring you nearer to
+the Lord." I'd ask her how she made that out, and she'd say: "'Tis
+like a bit of 'lastic, William. When you pulls it the ends get drawed
+apart, but when you lets it go again, the ends come closer than they
+was before. When you be in a passion, William, you draws yourself
+away from the Lord's end; when your passion be over, back you goes
+with a rush, until you meets Him plump. Only," she'd say, "don't you
+draw away too often, lest the 'lastic break." I never could tell if
+she were laughing at me, or if she weren't. But I do know she did
+make me feel terrible ashamed. I used to wonder if the Lord's temper
+ever did go short.'
+
+'The Lord is like unto men--He knows both grief and anger.'
+
+'Seems to me as how He wouldn't be the Lord if He didn't. He feels
+what we feels, or how'd He be able to help us?'
+
+'The Lord and His children are of one family. Did you not know that?'
+
+'I knowed it. But there's them as thinks the Lord's a fine gentleman,
+what's always a-looking you up and down, and that you ain't never to
+come near Him without your best clothes and your company manners on.
+Seems to me the Lord don't only want to know you now and then, He
+wants to know you right along. If you can't go to Him because you be
+mucked with charcoal, it be bitter hard.'
+
+'You know you can.'
+
+'I do know you can, I do. When I've been as black as black can be
+I've felt Him just as close as in the chapel Sundays.'
+
+'The Lord is not here or there, in the house or in the field; He is
+with His children.'
+
+'Hebe that! He be!'.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII
+
+                          A TRIUMPHAL ENTRY
+
+
+The people came to meet the Lord upon the Ripley road, and they were
+not a few.
+
+The first that found Mr. Treadman were Mrs. Powell and Harvey
+Gifford. They took a fly from the station, bidding the driver drive
+straight on. Nor had they gone far before they came on Mr. Treadman
+sitting on a gate. They cried to him:
+
+'What is the meaning of your telegram?'
+
+'It means that the Lord has come again, in very surety and very
+truth.'
+
+'Are you in earnest?'
+
+'Did they not ask that question of the prophets? Were they in
+earnest? Then am I.'
+
+'But where is He?'
+
+'He has given me the slip.'
+
+'Given you the slip? What do you mean?'
+
+Mr. Treadman explained. While he did so, others arrived, men and
+women of all sorts, ranks, and ages. They were agog with curiosity.
+
+'What like is He to look at? Does the sight of Him blind, as it did
+Moses?'
+
+'Nothing of the sort. He is just an ordinary man, like you and me.'
+
+'An ordinary man! Then how can you tell it is the Lord?'
+
+'He is not to be mistaken. You cannot be in His presence twenty
+seconds without being sure of it.'
+
+'But--I don't understand! I thought that when He came again it was to
+be with legions of angels, in pomp and glory, to be the Judge of all
+the earth.'
+
+'The Jews looked for a material display. They thought He was to come
+in Majesty. And because, to their unseeing eyes, He appeared as one
+of themselves, in their disappointment they nailed Him upon a tree.
+Oh, my friends, don't let a similar mistake be ours! That is the
+awful, immeasurable peril which already stares us in the face.
+Because, in His infinite wisdom, for reasons which are beyond our
+ken, and, perhaps, beyond our comprehension, He has again chosen to
+put on the guise of our common manhood, let us not, on that account,
+the less rejoice to see Him, nor let us fail to do Him all possible
+honour. He has come again unto His children; let His children receive
+Him with shouts and with Hosannas. It is possible, when He perceives
+how complete is His dominion over your hearts and minds, that He will
+be pleased to manifest Himself in that splendour of Godhead for which
+I know some of you have been confidently looking. Only, until that
+hour comes, let us not fail to do reverence to the God in man.'
+
+'But where is He? You told us to meet Him on the Ripley road. How can
+we do Him reverence if we do not know where He is?'
+
+The question came in different forms from many throats. The crowd had
+grown. The people were eager.
+
+A boy threaded his way among them. He addressed himself to Mr.
+Treadman.
+
+'Please, sir, there's someone in the wood with Mr. Bates. When I took
+Mr. Bates his dinner he called him "Lord."'
+
+Presently the crowd were following the boy. He led them some little
+distance along the road, and then across a field into a wood. There
+they came upon the Stranger and the charcoal-burner eating together,
+seated side by side; and the lame man also ate with them, sitting on
+the ground. Mr. Treadman cried:
+
+'Lord, we have found You again!'
+
+He looked at the people, asking:
+
+'Who are these?'
+
+They are Your children--Your faithful, loving, eager children, who
+have come to give You greeting.'
+
+'My children? There are many that call themselves My children that I
+know not of.'
+
+Mr. Treadman cried:
+
+'Oh, my friends, this is the Lord! Rejoice and give thanks. Many are
+the days of the years in which you have watched for Him, and waited,
+and He has come to you at last.'
+
+For the most part the people were still. There were some that pressed
+forward, but more that hung back. For now that they came near to the
+Stranger's presence they began to be afraid. Yet Mrs. Powell went
+close to Him, asking:
+
+'Are you in very deed the Lord?'
+
+He replied:
+
+'Are you of the children of the Lord?
+
+She drew a little back.
+
+'I do not know Him; I do not know Him! Yet I am afraid.'
+
+'Love casteth out fear; but where there is no love, there fear is.'
+
+She drew still more away, saying again:
+
+'I am afraid.'
+
+Mr. Treadman explained:
+
+'We are here to meet You, Lord, and to entreat You to let us come
+with You to London.'
+
+'Why should you come with Me?'
+
+'Because we are Your children.'
+
+'My children!'
+
+'Yes, Lord, Your children, each in his or her own fashion, but each
+with his or her whole heart. And because we are Your children, we are
+here to meet You--many of us at no slight personal inconvenience--to
+keep You company on the way, so that by our testimony we may begin to
+make it known that the Lord has come again to be the Judge of all the
+earth.'
+
+'What know you of the why and wherefore of My coming?'
+
+'Actually nothing. But I am very sure You are here for some great and
+good purpose, and trust, before long, to prove myself worthy of the
+Divine confidence. In the meantime I implore You to suffer those who
+are here assembled to accompany You as a guard of honour, so that You
+may make, though in a rough-and-ready fashion, a triumphant entry
+into that great city which is the capital of Your kingdom here on
+earth.'
+
+'I will come with you.' To the lame man and to the
+charcoal-burner He said: 'Come also.'
+
+He went with them. And when they came into the road nothing would
+content Mr. Treadman but that He should get into the fly which had
+brought Mrs. Powell and Mr. Gifford from the station. The lame man
+and the charcoal-burner rode with Him. As Mr. Treadman was preparing
+to mount upon the box Mrs. Powell came.
+
+'What am I to do? I cannot walk all the way. It is too far.'
+
+'Get in also. There is room.'
+
+She shuddered.
+
+'I dare not--I am afraid.'
+
+So the fly went on without her.
+
+As they went the bands played and the people sang hymns. There were
+some that shouted texts of Scripture and all manner of things. In the
+towns and villages folk came running out to learn what was the cause
+of all the hubbub.
+
+'What is it?' they cried.
+
+Mr. Treadman standing up would shout: 'It is the Lord! He has come to
+us again! Rejoice and give thanks. Come, all ye that are weary and
+heavy laden, for He has brought you rest.'
+
+They pressed round the fly, so that it could scarcely move.
+
+In a certain place a great man who was driving with his wife, when he
+saw the crowd and heard what they were saying, was angry, crying with
+a loud voice:
+
+'What ribaldry is this? What blasphemous words are these you utter? I
+am ashamed to think that Englishmen should behave in such a fashion.'
+
+Mr. Treadman answered:
+
+'You foolish man! you don't know what it is you say. Yours is the
+shame, not ours. It is the Lord in very deed!'
+
+The other, still more angry, caused his coachman to place his
+carriage close beside the fly, intending to reprimand Him whom he
+supposed to be the cause of the commotion. But when he saw the
+Stranger he was silent. His wife cried: 'It is the Lord!'
+
+She went quickly from the carriage to the fly. When she reached it
+she fell on her knees, hiding her face on the seat at the Stranger's
+side.
+
+'You have my son, my only son!'
+
+He said:
+
+'Be comforted. Your son I know and you I know. To neither of you
+shall any harm come.'
+
+Her husband called to her.
+
+'Are you mad? What is the meaning of this extraordinary behaviour? Do
+you wish to cause a public scandal?'
+
+She answered:
+
+'It is the Lord!'
+
+But her husband commanded her:
+
+'Come back into the carriage!'
+
+She cried:
+
+'Lord, let me stay with You. You have my boy; where my boy is I would
+be also.'
+
+The Stranger said:
+
+'Return unto your husband. You shall stay with Me although you return
+to him.'
+
+She went back into the carriage weeping bitterly.
+
+The news of the strange procession which was coming went on in front.
+All the way were people waiting, so that the crowd grew more and
+more. All that came had to make room for it, waiting till the press
+was gone. Though the way was long, but few seemed to tire. Those that
+were at the first continued to the end, the bands playing almost
+without stopping, and the people singing hymns.
+
+By the time they neared London it was evening. The throng had grown
+so great the authorities began to be concerned. Policemen lined the
+roads, ready if necessary to preserve order. But their services were
+not needed, as Mr. Treadman proclaimed:
+
+'Constables, we are, glad to see you. Representatives of the law, He
+who comes is the Lord. Therefore shout Hosanna with the best of us
+and give Him greeting.'
+
+Presently someone pressed a piece of paper into his hand on which was
+written:
+
+
+'If the Lord would but stay this night in the house of the chief of
+sinners.
+
+                               'MIRIAM POWELL.'
+
+
+He took a pencil from his pocket, and wrote beneath:
+
+
+'He shall stay in your house this night, thou daughter of the Lord.
+
+                               'W. S. T.'
+
+
+From his seat on the box Mr. Treadman leaned over towards the fly.
+
+'Lord, I entreat You to honour with Your presence the habitation of
+Your very daughter, Miriam Powell, whose good works, done in Your
+name, shine in the eyes of all men.'
+
+He replied:
+
+'Thy will, not Mine, be done!' Mr. Treadman shouted to the people:
+'My friends, I am authorised by the Lord to announce that He will
+rest in the house of His faithful servant, Miriam Powell, whose name,
+as a single-minded labourer in Christ's vineyard, is so well-known to
+all of you. To mark our sense of His appreciation of the manner in
+which Mrs. Powell has borne the heat and burden of the day, let us
+join in singing that beautiful hymn which has comforted so many of us
+when the hours of darkness were drawing nigh, "Abide with me, fast
+fall the eventide."'
+
+Mrs. Powell's house was in Maida Vale. It was late when the
+procession arrived. Even then it was some time before the fly could
+gain the house itself. The crowd had been recruited from a less
+desirable element since its advent in the streets of London, and this
+reinforcement was disposed to show something of its more disreputable
+side. The vehicle, with its weary horse and country driver, had to
+force its way through a scuffling, howling mob. For some moments it
+looked as if, unless the police arrived immediately in great force,
+there would be mischief done; until the Stranger, standing up in the
+fly, raised His hand, saying:
+
+'I pray you, be still.'
+
+And they were still. And He passed through the midst of them, with
+the charcoal-burner and the lame man. Mr. Treadman came after.
+
+When He entered the house, He sighed.
+
+Now Mrs. Powell, when she had learned that the Stranger was to be her
+guest, had hastened home to make ready for His coming, so that the
+table was set for a meal. But when He saw that there was a place for
+only one, He asked:
+
+'What is this? Is there none that would eat with me?'
+
+Mr. Treadman answered:
+
+'Nay, Lord, there is none that is worthy. Suffer us first to wait
+upon You. Then afterwards we will eat also.'
+
+He said:
+
+'Does not a father eat with his children? Are they not of him? If
+there is any in this house that calls upon My name, let him sit down
+with me and eat.'
+
+So they sat down and ate together. While they continued at
+table but little was said; for the day had been a long one, and they
+were weary. When they had eaten, the Stranger was shown into the best
+room, where was a bed which offered a pleasant resting-place for
+tired limbs. But He did not lie on it, nor sought repose, but went
+here and there about the room, as if His mind were troubled. And He
+cried aloud:
+
+'Father, is it for this I came?'
+
+In the street were heard the voices of the people, and those that
+cried:
+
+'Christ has come again!'
+
+And in the best room of the house the Stranger wept, lamenting:
+
+'I have come unto Mine own, and Mine own know Me not. They make a
+mock of Me, and say, He shall be as we would have Him; we will not
+have Him as He is. They have made unto themselves graven images, not
+fashioned alike, but each an image of his own, and each would have Me
+to be like unto the image which he has made. For they murmur among
+themselves: It is we that have made God; it is not God that has made
+us.'
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIV
+
+                      THE WORDS OF THE WISE
+
+
+There began to be in London that night a feeling of unrest. A sense
+of uncertainty came into men's minds, a desire to find answers to the
+questions which each asked of the other:
+
+'Who is this man? Who does he pretend to be? Where does he come from?
+What does he want?'
+
+In the minds of some that last inquiry assumed a different form. They
+asked, of their own hearts, if not of one another:
+
+'Why has he come to trouble us?'
+
+The usual showed signs of the unusual. In a great city a divergence
+from the normal means disturbance; which is to be avoided. When the
+multitude is strongly stirred by a consciousness of the abnormal in
+its midst, to someone, or to something, it means danger. Order is not
+preserved by authority, but by tradition. A suspicion that events are
+about to happen which are contrary to established order shakes that
+tradition, with the immediate result that confusion threatens.
+
+There was that night hardly one person who was not conscious of more
+or less vague mental disturbance. There were those who at once leaped
+to the conclusion that the words of Scripture, as they interpreted
+them, were about to receive complete illustration. There were others
+whose theological outlook was capable of less mathematically accurate
+definition, who were yet in doubt as to whether some supernatural
+being might not have appeared among men. There was that large class
+which, having no logical grounds for expectation, is always looking
+for the unexpected, ever eager to believe it is upon them. The
+members of this class are not interested in current theories of a
+deity; they are indifferent whether God is or is not. The phrase 'a
+Second Coming' conveyed no meaning to their minds. They would welcome
+any new thing, whether it was Christ Jesus or Tom Fool; though, when
+they realised who Christ Jesus was, their preference would be
+strongly in favour of Tom Fool. It was, for the most part,
+individuals of this sort who bent their steps towards the house in
+which the Stranger was, and, by way of diversion, loitered in its
+neighbourhood throughout the night.
+
+In the house itself a consultation was being held. Various persons
+who take a notorious interest in subjects of the hour were gathered
+together, like bees about a flower, desirous to extract from the
+occasion such honey as they could. Mr. Treadman, who presided, had
+explained to the meeting, in words which burned, what a matter of
+capital importance it was which had brought them there.
+
+Professor Wilcox Wilson displayed his usual fondness for destructive
+criticism.
+
+'Our friend Treadman speaks of the frightful consequences
+which would attend an only partial recognition of the Lord's
+divinity. He says nothing of the at least equally bad results which
+would ensue from giving credit to an impostor. Apart from the fact
+that there are those who are still in doubt as to which portion of
+the New Testament narrative is to be regarded as mythical----'
+
+Mr. Treadman sprang to his feet.
+
+'Mr. Wilson, this meeting is for believers only. We are not here for
+an academical discussion; we are here as children of Christ.'
+
+'Quite so. I, also, am anxious to be a child of Christ. I only say,
+with another, "Help Thou my unbelief." It seems to me that the
+personage whom we will call our distinguished visitor----'
+
+'Wilson, sit down! In my presence you shall not speak with such
+flippancy of the Lord Christ. It is to protest against such frames of
+mind that we are here. Don't you realise that He who is in the room
+above us has but to lift His little finger to lay you dead?'
+
+'It would prove nothing if he did; certainly not that he is the Lord
+Christ. My dear Treadman, let me ask you seriously to consider
+whether you propose to conduct your crusade on logical lines or as
+creatures of impulse. If it is as the latter you intend to figure,
+you will do an incalculable amount of mischief. The Lord who made us
+is aware of our deficiencies. He is responsible for them.'
+
+'No! No!'
+
+'Who, then, is? Is there a greater than God? Do you blaspheme? He
+knows that He has given us, as one of the strongest passions of our
+nature, a craving for demonstrable proof. If this is shown in little
+things, then how much more in greater! If you want it proved that two
+and two are five, then are you not equally desirous of having it
+clearly established that a wandering stranger has claims to call
+himself divine? So put, the question answers itself. If this man is
+God, he will have no difficulty in demonstrating the fact beyond all
+possibility of doubt; and he will demonstrate it, for he knows that
+human nature, for which he is responsible, requires such
+demonstration. If he does not, then rest assured he is no God.'
+
+Mr. Jebb stood up.
+
+'What sort of proof does Professor Wilson require? What amount would
+he esteem sufficient? Would he expect that the demonstration should
+be repeated in the case of each separate individual? I put these
+questions, feeling that the Professor has possibly his own point of
+view, because it is asserted that miracles have taken place. A large
+body of apparently trustworthy evidence testifies to the fact. I am
+bound to admit that my own researches go to show that the occurrences
+in question are at least extra-natural. Does the Professor suggest
+that any power short of what we call Divine can go outside nature?'
+
+The Professor replied:
+
+'I will be candid, and confess that it is because the events referred
+to are of so extraordinary a nature that I am in this galley. I have
+hitherto seen no reason to doubt that everything which has happened
+in cosmogony is capable of a natural explanation. If I am to admit
+the miraculous, I find myself confronted by new conditions, on which
+account I ask this worker of wonders to show who and what he is.'
+
+'He has already shown Himself to be more than man.'
+
+'I grant that he has shown himself to be a remarkable person. But it
+does not by any means therefore follow that he is the Son of God, the
+Christ of tradition.'
+
+Mr. Treadman broke into the discussion.
+
+'He has shown Himself to me to be the Christ.'
+
+'But how? that's what I don't understand. How?'
+
+'Wilson, pray that one day He may show Himself to you before it is
+too late. Pray! pray! then you'll understand the how, wherefore, and
+why, though you'll still not be able to express them in the terms of
+a scientific formula.'
+
+The Professor shrugged his shoulders.
+
+'That is the sort of talk which has been responsible for the
+superstition which has been the world's greatest bane. The votaries
+of the multifarious varieties of hanky-panky have always shown a
+distaste for the cold, dry light of truth, which is all that science
+is.'
+
+Jebb smiled.
+
+'I am not so exigent as the Professor. I recognise the presence in
+our midst of a worker of wonders--a god among men. And although in
+that latter phrase some may only see a poetic license, I am disposed
+to be content. For I represent a too obvious fact--the fact that one
+portion of the world is the victim of the other part's injustice. As
+I came here to-night I passed through men and women, ragged,
+tattered, and torn, smirched with all manner of uncleanliness, who
+were hastening towards this house as if towards the millennium.
+Remembering how often that quest had been a dream, I asked myself if
+it were possible that at last it gleamed on the horizon. As I put to
+myself the question, my heart leaped up into my mouth. For it was
+borne in upon me, as a thing not to be denied, that it might be that,
+in the best of all possible senses, the Day of the Lord has arrived--
+the Great Day of the Lord.'
+
+'It has arrived, Jebb, be sure of it!'
+
+'I think--I say it with all due deference--that it will not
+be our fault if it has not, in the sense in which I use the phrase. I
+am told that we have Christ again among us. On that pronouncement I
+pass no opinion. I stand simply for those that suffer. I do know that
+we are in actual touch with one who has given proofs of his capacity
+to alleviate pain and make glad the sorrowful. Experience has shown
+that by nothing less than a miracle can the submerged millions be
+raised out of the depths. Here is a doer of miracles. Already he has
+shown that a cry of anguish gains access to the heart, and impels him
+to a removal of the cause. Here is a great healer, the physician the
+world is so much in want of. Would it not be well for us, sinking all
+controversial differences, to join hands in approaching him, and in
+showing him, with all humility, the wounds which gape widest, and the
+souls which are enduring most, doing this in the trust that the sight
+of so much affliction will quicken his sympathies, and move him to
+right the wrong, and to make the rough ways smooth? How he will do it
+I cannot say. But he who can raise a cancerous corpse from an
+operating table, and endue it with life and health upon the instant,
+can do that and more. To such an one all things are possible. I ask
+you to consider whether it will not be well that we should discuss
+the best and most effective manner in which, in the morning, this
+matter can be laid before him who has come among us.'
+
+Scarcely had Mr. Jebb ceased to speak than there rose a huge man,
+with matted beard, untidy hair, eager eyes, and a voice which seemed
+to shake the room. This was the socialist, Henry Walters. He spoke
+with tumultuous haste, as if it was all he could do to keep up with
+the words which came rushing along his tongue.
+
+'I say, Yes! if that's the Christ you're talking about, I'm for him.
+If this disturber of the peace is a creature with red blood in his
+veins, count me on his side. For he'll be a disturber of the peace
+with a vengeance. If at last Heaven has given us someone who is
+prepared to deal, not with abstractions, but with facts, then I cry:
+"Hallelujah for the King of Kings!" For it's more important that our
+rookeries should be made decent dwelling-places than that all the
+Churches should plump for the Thirty-nine Articles. The prospect of a
+practical Christ almost turns my brain. Religion is a synonym for
+contradiction in theory and practice, but a Christ who is a live man,
+and not a decoration for an altarpiece, will be likely to have clear
+notions on the problems which are beyond our finding out, and to care
+little for singing bad verses about the golden sea. We want a Saviour
+more than the handful of Jews did, who at least had breathing space
+in the 11,000 miles of open country, with a respectable climate,
+which you call Palestine. But he must be a Saviour that is a Saviour;
+not an utterer of dark sayings which are made darker by being
+interpreted, but a doer of deeds. Let him purify the moral and
+physical atmosphere of a single London alley, and he'll not want for
+followers. Let him assure the London dockers of a decent return for
+honest labour, and he'll write his name for all time on their hearts.
+Let him put an end to sweating, and explain to the wicked mighty that
+by right their seats should be a little lower down, and he'll have
+all that's worth having in the world upon his side. You talk about a
+Saviour of the poor. If such an one has come at last, the face of
+this country will be transformed in a fashion which will surprise
+some of you who live on the poor. There'll be no need of a second
+crucifixion, or for more tittle-tattle about dying for sinners. Let
+him live for them. He has but to choose to conquer, to will to extend
+his empire, eternally, from pole to pole. And since these are my
+sentiments I need not enlarge on the zest with which I shall join in
+the discussion suggested by Mr. Jebb as to the most irresistible
+method of laying before him who has come among us the plain fact that
+this chaos called a city is but a huge charnel-house of human
+misery.'
+
+When Mr. Walters sat down the Rev. Martin Philipps rose:
+
+'I have listened in silence to the remarks which we have just heard
+because I felt that this was pre-eminently an occasion on which every
+man, conscious of his own responsibility, was entitled to an
+uninterrupted exposition of his views, however abhorrent those views
+might be to some of us. I need not tell you how both the tone and
+spirit of those to which we have just been listening are contrary to
+every sense and fibre of my being. Mr. Jebb and the last speaker seem
+only to see the secular side of the subject which is before us. This
+is the more surprising as it has no secular side. If Christ has come,
+it is as a Divinity, not as an adherent of this or that political or
+social school, but as an intermediary between heaven and earth. I
+cannot express to you the horror with which I regard the notion that
+the purport of His presence here can be to administer to the material
+wants of men. To suppose so is indeed to mock God. We as Christians
+know better. It is our blessed privilege to be aware that it is not
+our bodies which He seeks, but our souls. Our body is but the
+envelope which contains the soul, and from which one day it emerges,
+like the chrysalis from the cocoon. The one endures but for a few
+years, the other through all eternity.
+
+'I would not inflict on you these platitudes were it not necessary,
+after the remarks which we have heard, for us, as Christians to make
+our position plain. If Christ has come again, it is in infinite love,
+to make a further effort to save us from the consequences of our own
+sin, to complete the work of His atonement, and to seek once more to
+gather us within the safety of His fold.
+
+'I had never thought that under any possible circumstances I should
+be constrained to ask myself the question, Has Christ come again?
+Strange human blindness! I had always supposed that, as a believer in
+Christ, and Him crucified, and as a preacher, I should never have the
+slightest doubt as to whether or not He had returned to earth. I see
+now with clearer eyes; I perceive my own poor human frailty; I
+realise more clearly the nature of the puzzle which must have
+presented itself to the Jews of old. I use the word "puzzle" because
+it seems to define the situation more accurately than any other which
+occurs to me. Looking back across the long tale of the years, it is
+difficult for us to properly apprehend the full bearing of the fact
+that Christ, the Son of God, was once an ordinary man, in manners,
+habits, and appearance exactly like ourselves. We say glibly: "He was
+made man," but how many of us stop to realise what, in their
+entirety, those words mean! When I first heard that someone was in
+London who, it was rumoured, was the Lord Jesus, my feeling was one
+of shock, horror, amazement, to think that anyone could be guilty of
+so blasphemous a travesty. If you consider, probably the same
+sensation was felt by Jews who were told that the Messiah, to whose
+advent their whole history pointed, was in their midst. When they
+were shown an ordinary man, who to their eyes looked exactly like his
+fellows--a person of absolutely no account whatever--their feeling
+was one of deep disgust, derision, scorn, which presently became
+fanatical rage. Exactly what they were looking for, more or less
+vaguely (for the promise was of old, and the performance long
+delayed), they scarcely knew themselves. But it was not this. Who is
+this man? What is his name? Where does he come from? What right has
+he to hold himself up as different from us? These were questions
+which they asked. When the answers came their rage grew more, until
+the sequel was the hill of Calvary.
+
+'A similar problem confronts us to-day in London. We believe in
+Christ, although we never saw Him. I sometimes think that, if we had
+seen Him, we might not have believed. God grant that I am wrong! For
+nearly nineteen hundred years we have watched and waited for His
+Second Coming. The time has been long; the disappointments have been
+many, until at last there has grown up in the midst of some a sort of
+dull wonder as to whether He will ever come again at all. "How long?"
+many of us have cried--"O Lord, how long?" Suddenly our question
+receives an answer of a sort. We are told: "No longer--now. The great
+day of the Lord is already here. Christ has come again." When in our
+bewilderment we ask, "Where is He? What is He like? Whence has He
+come, and how? Why wholly unannounced, in such guise and fashion?" we
+receive the same answer as did the Jews of old.
+
+'This is a grave matter which we have met to discuss--so grave that I
+hardly dare to speak of it; but this I will venture to say: I know
+that my Redeemer liveth; but whether I should know Him, as He should
+be known, if I met Him face to face, very man of very man, here upon
+earth, I cannot certainly say. I entreat God to forgive me in that I
+am compelled, to my shame, to make such a confession; and I believe
+that He will forgive me, for He knows, as none else can, how strange
+a thing is the heart of man. He who is with us in this house tonight
+has been spoken of as a worker of wonders. That I myself know he is,
+and of wonders which are other than material. When yesterday I stood
+before him, I was abashed. The longer I stayed, the more my sense of
+self-abasement grew. I felt as if I, a thing of impurity, had been
+brought into sudden, unexpected contact with one who was wholly pure.
+I was ashamed. I am conscious that there is a presence in this house
+which, though intangible, is not to be denied. Whether or not the
+physical form and shape of our Lord is in the room above us, He is
+present in our midst; and I confidently hope, when I have sought
+guidance from God in prayer--as I trust that we presently shall all
+do--to obtain light from the Fountain of all light which shall make
+clear to me the way.'
+
+The Rev. Martin Philipps was succeeded by Mr. John Anthony Gibbs. Mr.
+Gibbs was a short, portly person, with a manner which suggested,
+probably in spite of himself, a combination of the pedagogue with the
+man of business.
+
+'I believe that I am entitled to say that I represent certain
+religious bodies in the present House of Commons, and while endorsing
+what the last speaker has said, I would add to his remarks one or two
+of my own. I apprehend that it is generally allowed that we have
+among us a remarkable man. I understand that he is with us to-night
+beneath this very roof. The spirit of the age is inclined towards
+incredulity, but I for one am disposed to be convinced that he is not
+as others are. Admitting the bare possibility of his being more than
+man, even though he be less than God, I confidently affirm that it is
+to the Churches first of all that the question is of primary
+importance. I would suggest that representations be at once made to
+the different Churches.'
+
+'Including the Roman Catholic?'
+
+The question came from Henry Walters.
+
+'No, sir; not to the Roman Catholic hierarchy; I was speaking of the
+Christian Churches only.'
+
+'And the Roman Catholic is not one of them?'
+
+'Most emphatically not, as it is within the bounds of possibility
+that it will speedily and finally learn. I speak for the Churches of
+Protestant Christendom only.'
+
+'That is very good of you.'
+
+'And I repeat that I would suggest that representations should be
+made to those that are in authority, and that meetings be called; a
+first to be attended by the clergy only, and a second by both the
+clergy and laity, at which this great question should be properly and
+adequately discussed.'
+
+'And what's to happen in the meantime?'
+
+'Sir, I was not addressing you.'
+
+'But I was addressing you. We all know what religious meetings are
+like, especially when they are attended by representatives of
+Protestant Christendom only. While they are making up their minds
+about the differences between Tweedledum and Tweedledee, is Christ,
+humbly quiescent, to stand awaiting their decision?'
+
+'Sir, your language is repulsive. I am only addressing myself to
+those persons present who are proud to call themselves Christians.
+And them I am asking to consider whether it is not in the highest
+degree advisable that we should endeavour to obtain at the earliest
+possible moment the opinion of our bishops and clergy on this
+question of the most supreme importance.'
+
+'Hear, hear! And when we've got them, we shall know how to appreciate
+them at their proper value. The Lord deliver us from our bishops and
+clergy!'
+
+After Mr. Gibbs had resumed his seat there ensued an interval, during
+which no one evinced an inclination to continue the discussion.
+Possibly Mr. Walters's interruptions had not inspired anyone with a
+desire to incur his criticism. His voice and manner were alike
+obstreperous. There were those present who knew from experience that
+it was extremely difficult to shout him down.
+
+When some moments had passed without the silence being broken, Mr.
+Treadman leaned across the table towards where sat that singular
+personality whose name is a synonym for the Salvation Army, and who
+has credited himself with brevet rank as 'General' Robins.
+
+'General, is there nothing which you wish to say to us? Surely this
+is not a subject on which you would desire to have your voice
+unheard?'
+
+The 'General' was sitting right back in his chair. He was an old man.
+The suggestion of age was accentuated by his attitude. His back was
+bowed, his head hung forward on his chest, his hands lay on his
+knees, as if the arms to which they were attached were limp and
+weary. He did not seem to be aware that he was being addressed, so
+that Mr. Treadman had to repeat his question. When it was put a
+second time he glanced up with a start, as if he had been brought
+back with a shock from the place of shadows in which his thoughts had
+been straying.
+
+'I was thinking,' he replied.
+
+'Of what? Will you not allow us to hear our thoughts on a subject
+whose magnitude bulks larger with each word we utter?'
+
+The old man was silent, as if he were considering. Then he said,
+without altering his position:
+
+'I was thinking that I knew more when I was young than I do now that
+I am old. All my life I have been sure--till now. Now, the first time
+that assurance is really needed, it is gone, and has left me
+troubled. God help us all!'
+
+'Explain yourself, General.'
+
+'That's another part of the trouble, that I'm pretty nearly afraid to
+explain. All the days of my life I've been crying: "Take courage! Put
+doubt behind you!" And now, when courage is what I most am wanting,
+it's fled; only doubt remains.'
+
+'But, General, you of all others have no cause for doubt; and you've
+proved your courage on a hundred fields. You've not only fought the
+good fight yourself, you have shown others how to fight it too.'
+
+'That's it--have I? As Mr. Philipps said, to-night there's
+a Presence in the air, I felt It as I came up the street,
+as I entered this house, and more and more as I've been
+seated in this room. And in that Presence I have grown afraid,
+fearful lest in all that I have done I have done wrong. I confess--
+because It knows--that I have had doubts as to the propriety of my
+proceedings from the first. Like Saul, I seem to have been smitten
+with sudden blindness in order that I may see at last. I see that
+what Christ wants is not what I have given Him. I understood man's
+nature, but refused to understand His. I realised that there is
+nothing like sensationalism to attract a certain sort of men and
+women; I declined to realise that it does not attract Christ.
+Confident assertion pleases the mob, when it's in a certain humour,
+but not Him. Bands, uniforms, newspapers, catchwords--all the
+machinery of advertisement I have employed;--but He does not
+advertise. Worst of all, I've taught from a thousand platforms that a
+man may be a notorious sinner one minute and a child of Christ the
+next. I know that is not so.'
+
+The old man stood up, his quavering tones rising in a shrill
+crescendo.
+
+'You ask me to tell you what I think. I think that we are about to
+stand before the judgment-seat of God as doomed men. We have been
+like the Scribes and Pharisees, saying, We know Christ, and are
+therefore not as others, when all the time our knowledge has been
+hurrying us not to but from Him. I know that my Redeemer liveth, and
+have used that knowledge for my own ends. Because it seemed to me
+that His methods were ineffective, I have said, Not His will, but
+mine be done. I have taught Him, not as He would be taught, but as it
+has suited me to teach Him. I have lied of Him and to Him, and have
+taught a great multitude to lie also. I have made of Him a mockery in
+the eyes of men, dragged Him through the gutter, flaunted Him from
+the hoardings, used Him as a street show, and as a mountebank in the
+houses which I have called not His, but mine. I have blasphemed His
+Name by using it as a meaningless catch-phrase in the foolish mouths
+of men and women seeking for a new sensation, or for self-display. I
+have done all these things and many more. I am an old man. What time
+have I for atonement? For I know now that what Christ wants is a
+man's life, not merely a part of it--the beginning, the middle, or
+the end. You cannot win him with a phrase in a moment of emotion. You
+have gradually, persistently, quietly, to mould yourself in His
+image. Nothing else will serve. For that, for me, the time is past. I
+cannot undo what I have done, nor can I begin again. It is too late.
+
+'You ask me what I think. I think if Christ has come again--I fear He
+has, for strange things have happened to me since I entered the
+Presence that is in this room--that we had better flee, though where,
+I do not know; for wherever we go we shall take Him with us. I, for
+one, dare not meet Him face to face. I envy him his courage that
+dare, though he will have to be made of different stuff from any of
+us if it is to avail him anything. Be assured of this, that for us
+the Second Coming will not be a joyful advent. It will mean, at best,
+the pricking of the bubbles we have so long and so laboriously been
+blowing. We shall be made to know ourselves as He knows us. There
+will be the beginning of the end. What form that end will take I dare
+not endeavour to foresee. God help us all!'
+
+There was a curious quality in the silence that ensued when the
+'General' ceased, until Mr. Treadman sprang to his feet.
+
+'I protest, with all the strength that is in me, against the doctrine
+which we have just heard! It is abominable--a thing of horror--
+contrary to all that we know of God's love and His infinite mercy! I
+know that it is false!'
+
+'Oh, man! man! it's few things we haven't known, you and
+I--except ourselves. And that knowledge is coming to us too soon.
+Woeful will be the day!'
+
+'I cannot but think that the sudden rush of exciting events has
+turned our honoured friend's brain.'
+
+'It has, towards the light; so that I can see the outer darkness
+which lies beyond.'
+
+'General, I cannot find language with which to express the pain I
+feel at the tendency which I perceive in your attitude to turn your
+back on all the teachings of your life.'
+
+'Your sentence is involved--your sentences sometimes are; but your
+meaning's tolerably clear. I'm sorry too.'
+
+'Do you mean to deny that he who repents finds God--you who have been
+vehement in the cause of instant conversion.'
+
+'To my shame you say it.'
+
+'Your shame! Have you forgotten that there is more joy in heaven over
+one sinner that repenteth than over ninety-nine just persons? You
+out-Herod Calvin in his blackest moods.'
+
+'I'll not dispute with you. It's but words, words. I only hope that
+by repentance He means what you do. But I greatly fear.'
+
+'I am sure.'
+
+'Oh, man, how often we have been sure--we two!'
+
+'I am sure still. My friends, the General is nearer to Christ than he
+thinks, and Christ is nearer to him. We shall do no harm, any of us,
+by expressing our consciousness of sin, though at such a time as this
+I cannot but think that such an expression may go too far. We who are
+here have all of us laboured in our several ways in the Lord's
+vineyard. To suggest that the fruit of our endeavours has been all
+that it might have been would be presumption. We are but men. The
+best that men can do is faulty. But we have done our best, each
+according to his or her light. And having done that best, we are
+entitled to wait with a glad confidence the inspection of the Master.
+To suppose that He will require from us what He knows it has not been
+in our power to give or to do--I thank God that there is nothing in
+Scripture or out of it to cause any one to imagine that He is so
+relentless a taskmaster. And I--I have enjoyed the glad and glorious
+privilege of standing in His very presence. I have dared to speak to
+Him, to look Him in the face. I give you my personal assurance that I
+have not suffered for my daring, but have been filled instead with a
+great joy, and with an infinite content. No, General; no, my friends;
+the Lord has not come to us in anger, but in peace--a man like unto
+ourselves, knowing our infirmities, to wipe the tears out of our
+eyes. Do not, I beseech you, look upon Him for a moment as the
+dreadful being the General has depicted. The General himself, when
+his black mood has passed, and he finds himself indeed face to face
+with his Master, will be the first to perceive how contrary to truth
+that picture is. And in that moment he will know, once and forever,
+how very certain it is that the Second Coming of our Lord and Saviour
+is to us, His children, an occasion of great joy.'
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV
+
+                            THE SUPPLICANT
+
+
+There was in the house that night one person who did not attempt to
+sleep--its mistress, Mrs. Miriam Powell, a woman of character; a fact
+which was sufficiently demonstrated by the name by which she was best
+known to the world. For when the Christian name of a married woman is
+familiar to the public it is because she is a person of marked
+individuality.
+
+Something of her history was notorious; not only within a large
+circle of acquaintance, but outside of it. It had lost nothing in the
+telling. An unhappy marriage; a loose-living husband--a man who was
+in more senses than one unclean; a final resolution on her part to
+live out her life alone. Out of these data she had evolved a set of
+opinions on sexual questions to which she endeavoured to induce
+anyone and everyone, in season and out of season, to listen. There
+were some who regarded her with sympathy, some with admiration, some
+with respect, and some with fatigue.
+
+In such cases women are apt to be regarded as representatives of a
+class; as abstractions, not concrete facts. The accident of her
+having had a bad husband was known to all the world; that she was
+herself the victim of a temperament was not. She was of the stuff out
+of which saints and martyrs may have been made, which is not
+necessarily good material out of which to make a wife. Enthusiasm was
+a necessity of her existence--not the frothy, fleeting frenzy of a
+foolish female, but an enduring possession of the kind which makes
+nothing of fighting with beasts at Ephesus. Although she herself
+might not be aware of it, the nature of her matrimonial experiences
+had given her what her instincts craved for: a creed--sexual reform.
+
+She maintained that sexual intercourse was a thing of horror; the
+cause of all the evil which the world contains. Although she was wise
+enough not to proclaim the fact, in her heart she was of opinion that
+it would be better that the race should die out rather than that the
+evil should continue. She aimed at what she called universal
+chastity; maintaining that the less men and women had to do with each
+other the better. In pursuit of this chimera she performed labours
+which, if not worthy of Hercules, at least resembled those of
+Sisyphus in that they had to be done over and over again. The stone
+would not stay at the top of the hill.
+
+At the outset she had been convinced--as the fruit of her own
+experience--that the fault lay with the men. Latterly she had been
+inclining more and more to the belief that the women had something to
+do with it as well. Indeed, she was beginning to more than suspect
+that theirs might be the major part of the blame. The suspicion
+filled her with a singular sort of rage.
+
+This was the person to whose house the Stranger had come at this
+particular stage of her mental development. His advent had brought
+her to the verge of what is called madness in the case of an ordinary
+person of to-day; and spiritual exaltation in the case of saints and
+martyrs. She already knew that she was on a hopeless quest, and,
+although the fact did not daunt her for a moment, had realised that
+nothing short of a miracle would bring about that change in the human
+animal which she desired. Here was the possibility of a miracle
+actually at hand. Here was a worker of wonders--men said, the very
+Christ.
+
+It was the reflection that what men said might be true which made her
+courage quail at last.
+
+A miracle-monger she desired. But--the Christ! To formulate the
+proposition which was whirling in her brain to a
+doer-of-strange-deeds was one thing, but--to Him! That was another.
+
+When she had come into His near neighbourhood she had shrunk back, a
+frightened creature. She had been afraid to look Him in the face.
+Ever since He had been beneath her roof she had been shaken as with
+palsy.
+
+Dare she do this thing?
+
+That was the problem which had been present in her mind the whole day
+long, and which still racked it in the silent watches of the night.
+To and fro she passed, from room to room, from floor to floor. More
+than once she approached the door behind which He was, only to start
+away from it again and flee. She did not even dare to kneel at His
+portal, fearful lest He, knowing she was there, might come out and
+see. In her own chamber she scanned the New Testament in search of
+words which would comfort and encourage her. In vain. The sentences
+seemed to rise up from off the printed pages to condemn her.
+
+She had an idea. The lame man and the charcoal-burner were the joint
+occupants of a spare room. She would learn from them what manner of
+man their Master was--whether He might be expected to lend a
+sympathetic ear to such a supplication as that which she had it in
+her heart to make. But when she stood outside their apartment she
+reflected that they were common fellows. Her impulse had been to
+refuse them shelter, being at a loss to understand what connection
+there could be between her guest and such a pair. That they had
+thrust themselves upon Him she thought was probable; the more reason,
+therefore, why she should decline to countenance their presumptuous
+persistence. To seek from them advice or information would be an act
+of condescension which would be as resultless as undignified.
+
+No. Better go directly to the fountainhead. That would be the part
+both of propriety and wisdom.
+
+She screwed her courage to the sticking-point, and went.
+
+The two disciples were lodged in an upper story. She had her knuckles
+against the panel of their door when at last her resolution was
+arrived at. Straightway relinquishing her former purpose, she
+hastened down the stairs to the floor on which He was. As she went
+the clock in the hall struck three.
+
+The announcement of the hour moved her to fresh irresolution. Would
+it be seemly to rouse Him out of slumber to press on Him such a
+petition? Yet if she did not do it now, when could she? She might
+never again have such an opportunity. Were His ears not always open
+to the prayers of those that stood in need of help? What difference
+did the night or the morning make to Him? She put out her hand
+towards the door.
+
+As she did so a great fear came over her. It was as though she was
+stricken with paralysis. She could neither do as she intended nor
+withdraw her hand. She remained as one rooted to the floor. How long
+she stayed she did not know. The seconds and the minutes passed, and
+still she did not move. Presently her fear grew greater. She knew,
+although she had not made a sound, that, conscious of her presence,
+He was coming towards her on the other side of the door.
+
+Then the door was opened, and she saw Him face to face. He
+did not speak a word; and she was still. The gift of fluent speech
+for which she was notorious had gone from her utterly. He looked at
+her in such fashion that she was compelled to meet His eyes, though
+she would have given all that she had to have been able to escape
+their scrutiny. For in them was an eloquence which was not of words,
+and a quality which held her numb. For she was conscious not only
+that He knew her, in a sense of which she had never dreamed in her
+blackest nightmares, but that He was causing her to know herself. In
+the fierce light of that self-knowledge her heart dried up within
+her. She saw herself as what she was--the embittered, illiberal,
+narrow-minded woman who, conscious of her isolation, had raised up
+for herself a creed of her own--a creed which was not His. She saw
+how, with the passage of the years, her persistence in this creed had
+forced her farther and farther away from Him, until now she had grown
+to have nothing in common with Him, since she had so continually
+striven to bring about the things which He would not have. She had
+placed herself in opposition to His will, and now had actually come
+to solicit His endorsement of her action. And she knew that in so
+doing she had committed the greatest of all her sins.
+
+She did not offer her petition. But when the door was closed again,
+and He had passed from her actual sight, there stood without one from
+whose veins the wine of life had passed, and whose hair had become
+white as snow. Although not a word had been spoken, she had stood
+before the Judgment Seat, and tasted of more than the bitterness of
+death. When she began to return to her own room she had to feel her
+way with her hands. Her sight had become dim, her limbs feeble. She
+had grown old.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVI
+
+                            IN THE MORNING
+
+
+All through the night people remained in the street without. With the
+return of day their numbers so increased that the authorities began
+to be concerned. The house itself was besieged. It was with
+difficulty that the police could keep a sufficient open space in
+front to enable persons to pass in and out. An official endeavoured
+to represent to the inmates the authoritative point of view.
+
+'Whose house is this?' he asked of the servant who opened the door.
+
+He was told.
+
+'Can I see Mrs. Powell?'
+
+The maid seemed bewildered.
+
+'We don't know what's the matter with her. We're going to send for a
+doctor.'
+
+'Is she ill?'
+
+'She's grown old since last night.'
+
+'What do you mean?'
+
+The officer stared. The girl began to cry.
+
+'I want to get away. I'm frightened.'
+
+'Don't be silly. What have you got to be frightened at? Can't I see
+someone who's responsible? I don't know who you've got in the house,
+but whoever it is, he'd better go before there's trouble.'
+
+'They say it's Christ.'
+
+'Christ or no Christ, I tell you he'd better go somewhere where his
+presence won't be the occasion of a nuisance. Is there no one I can
+see?'
+
+'I am here.' The answer came from Mr. Treadman, who, with three other
+persons, had just entered the hall. 'What is it, constable? Is there
+anything you want?'
+
+'I don't know who you are, sir, but if you're the cause of the
+confusion outside you're incurring a very serious responsibility.'
+
+'I am not the cause; it is not me they have come to see. They have
+come to see the Lord. Officer, Christ has come again.'
+
+Mr. Treadman laid his hand upon the official's arm; who instantly
+shook it off again.
+
+'I know nothing about that; I want to know nothing. I only know that
+no one has a right to cause a nuisance.'
+
+'Cause a nuisance? Christ! Officer, are you mad?'
+
+'I don't want to talk to you. I have my instructions; they're enough
+for me. My instructions are to see that the nuisance is abated. The
+best way to do that is to induce your friend to take himself
+somewhere else without any fuss.' Voices came from the street. 'Do
+you hear that? A lot of half-witted people have foolishly brought
+their sick friends, and have actually got them out there, as if this
+was some sort of hospital at which medical attendance could be had
+for the asking. If anything happens to those sick people, it won t be
+nice for whoever is to blame.'
+
+'Nothing will happen. The Lord has only to raise His hand, to say the
+word, for them to be made whole. They know it; their faith has made
+them sure.'
+
+The officer regarded the other for a moment or two before he spoke
+again.
+
+'Look here, I don't know what your game is----'
+
+'Game?'
+
+'And I don't know what new religion it is you're supposed to be
+teaching----'
+
+'New religion? The religion we are teaching is as old as the hills.'
+
+'Very well; then that's all right. You take it to the hills; there'll
+be more room there. You tell your friend that the sooner he takes a
+trip into the country the better it'll be for everyone concerned.'
+
+'Officer, don't you understand what it means when you are told that
+Christ has come again? Can it be possible that you are not a
+Christian?'
+
+The official waved his hand.
+
+'The only thing about which I'm concerned is my duty, and my duty is
+to carry out my instructions. If, as I say, your friend is a sensible
+man, he'll change his quarters as soon as he possibly can. You'll
+find me waiting outside, to know what he intends to do. Don't keep me
+any longer than you can help.'
+
+The official's disappearance was followed by a momentary silence;
+then Mr. Treadman laughed awkwardly, as if his sense of humour had
+been tickled by something which was not altogether pleasant.
+
+'That is the latest touch of irony, that Christ should be regarded as
+a common nuisance, and on His Second Coming to be the Judge of all
+the earth requested to take Himself elsewhere!'
+
+The Rev. Martin Philipps pursed his lips.
+
+'What you say is correct enough; it is a ludicrous notion. But, on
+the other hand, the position is not a simple one. If, as they bid
+fair to do, the people flock here in huge crowds, at the very least
+there will be confusion, and the police will have difficulty in
+keeping order.'
+
+'You would not have the people refrain from coming to greet their
+Lord?'
+
+'I would nave them observe some method. Do you yourself wish that
+they should press upon Him in an unmanageable mob?'
+
+'Have no fear of that. He will hold them in the hollow of His hand,
+and will see that they observe all the method that is needed. For my
+part, I'd have them flock to Him from all the corners of the earth--
+and they will.'
+
+'In that case I trust that they will not endeavour to pack themselves
+within the compass of the London streets.'
+
+'Be at peace, my friend; do not let yourself be troubled. All that He
+shall do will be well. Now, first, to see our dear sister, whose
+request He granted, and whom He so greatly blessed by staying beneath
+her roof.'
+
+As he spoke, turning, he saw a figure coming down the stairs--an old
+woman, who tottered from tread to tread, clinging to the banister, as
+if she needed it both as a guide and a support.
+
+'Who is this?' he asked. Then: 'It can't be Mrs. Powell?' It was. He
+ran to her. 'My dear friend, what has happened to you since I saw you
+last?'
+
+The old woman, grasping the banister with both hands, looked down at
+him.
+
+'I have seen Him face to face!'
+
+'Seen whom?'
+
+'Christ. I have stood before the judgment-seat of God.'
+
+There was a quality in her voice which, combined with the singularity
+and even horror of her appearance, caused them to stare at her with
+doubting eyes. Mr. Treadman put a question to the servant, who still
+lingered in the passage:
+
+'What does she mean? What has taken place?'
+
+The girl began again to whimper.
+
+'I don't know. I want to go--I daren't stop--I'm frightened!'
+
+Mr. Treadman ascended to the old woman.
+
+'Take my arm; let me help you down, then you can tell me all that has
+happened.'
+
+With her two hands she caught his arm in a convulsive grip. At her
+touch they saw that his countenance changed. As they descended side
+by side upon his face was a curious expression, almost as if he was
+afraid of his companion. As she came the others retreated. When he
+led her into a room the others followed at a distance, showing a
+disposition to linger in the doorway. He brought her to a chair.
+
+'Here is a seat. Sit down.'
+
+She glanced with her dim eyes furtively to the front and back, to the
+right and left, continuing to clutch his arm, as if unwilling to
+relinquish its protection. He was obviously embarrassed.
+
+'Did you not hear what I said? Here is a seat. Let me go.'
+
+She neither answered nor showed any signs of releasing him. He called
+to those in the doorway:
+
+'Come and help me, someone; she grips my arm as in a vice. Mrs.
+Powell, I must insist upon your doing as I request. Let me go!'
+
+With a sudden wrench he jerked himself away. Deprived of his support,
+she dropped on to the ground. Indifferent to her apparent
+helplessness, he hurried to the trio at the door.
+
+'There's something awful about her--worse than madness. She has given
+me quite a nervous shock.'
+
+'General' Robins answered; he was one of the three who had come with
+Mr. Treadman.
+
+'As she herself says, she has seen Him face to face. Wait till we
+also have seen Him face to face. God help us all!'
+
+The Rev. Martin Philipps fidgeted.
+
+'Without wishing to countenance any extravagant theories, it is plain
+that something very strange has happened to Mrs. Powell. I trust that
+we ourselves are incurring no unnecessary risks.'
+
+Mr. Jebb, who also had come with Mr. Treadman, regarded the speaker
+in a manner which was not flattering.
+
+'You religious people are always thinking of yourselves. It is
+because you are afraid of what will happen to what you call your
+souls that you try to delude yourselves with the pretence that you
+believe; regarding faith as a patent medicine warranted to cure all
+ills. You might find indifference to self a safer recipe.'
+
+Picking up Mrs. Powell from where she still lay upon the floor, he
+placed her in a chair.
+
+'My good lady, the proper place for you is in bed.' He called to the
+maid: 'See that your mistress is put to bed at once, and a doctor
+sent for.'
+
+'A doctor,' cried Mr. Treadman, 'when the Great Healer Himself is
+upstairs!'
+
+'You appear to ignore the fact that, according to your creed, the
+Great Healer, as you call him, metes out not rewards only, but
+punishments as well. He is not a doctor to whom you have only to
+offer a fee to command his services.'
+
+'General' Robins caught at the words.
+
+'He does ignore it; and by his persistence in so doing he makes our
+peril every moment greater.'
+
+'At the same time,' continued Mr. Jebb, 'it is just as well that we
+should keep our heads. A person of Mrs. Powell's temperament and
+history may pass from what she was to what she is in the twinkling of
+an eye without the intervention of anything supernatural. So much is
+certain.'
+
+Mr. Treadman, who had been wiping his brow with his
+pocket-handkerchief, as if suffering from a sudden excess of heat,
+joined in the conversation.
+
+'My dear friend, God moves in a mysterious way. We all know that. Let
+us not probe into His actions in this or that particular instance,
+but rest content with the general assurance that all things work
+together for the good of those that love the Lord. Let us not forget
+the errand which has brought us here. Let us lose no more time, but
+use all possible expedition in opening our hearts to Him.'
+
+'I wish, Treadman, since you are not a parson, that you wouldn't ape
+the professional twang. Isn't ordinary English good enough for you?'
+
+'My dear Jebb, you are pleased to be critical. My sole desire is to
+speak of Him with all possible reverence.'
+
+'Then be reverent in decent every-day English. Are you suggesting
+that we should seek his presence? Because, if so I'm ready.'
+
+It seemed, however, that the other two were not. 'General' Robins
+openly confessed his unwillingness to, as he put it, meet the
+Stranger face to face. Nor was Mr. Philipps's eagerness in that
+direction much greater than his. Even Mr. Treadman showed signs of a
+chastened enthusiasm. It needed Mr. Jebb's acerbity to rekindle the
+expiring flame. Mr. Treadman repudiated the hints which his associate
+threw out with a show both of heat and scorn.
+
+Soon the quartette were mounting the stairs which led to the
+Stranger's room. On the landing there was a pause. The 'General' and
+Mr. Philipps, whose unwillingness to proceed further had by no means
+vanished, still lagged behind. Mr. Jebb lashed them with his tongue.
+
+'What's wrong with you? Is it spiritual fear or physical? In either
+case, what fine figures you both present! All these years you have
+been sounding your trumpets, proclaiming that you are Christ's, and
+Christ is yours; that the only thing for which you have yearned is
+His return. Now see how you shiver and shake! Is it because you are
+afraid that He has come, or because you fear He hasn't?'
+
+'I don't think,' stammered Mr. Philipps, 'that you are entitled to
+say I am afraid--other than in the sense in which every true believer
+must be afraid when he finds himself standing on the threshold of the
+Presence.'
+
+The 'General' was more candid.
+
+'I fear, I fear! He knows me altogether! He knows I fear!'
+
+Mr. Treadman endeavoured to return to his old assurance.
+
+'Come, my friends, let us fear nothing. Whether we live we are the
+Lord's; or whether we die we are the Lord's, blessed be the name of
+the Lord! Let us rejoice and make glad, and enter into His presence
+with a song.'
+
+Without knocking, turning the handle of the door in front of which
+they stood, he went into the room. Mr. Jebb went with him. After
+momentary hesitation, the Rev. Martin Philipps followed after. But
+'General' Robins stayed without. It was as if he made an effort to
+force his feet across the threshold, and as if they refused him their
+obedience. The tall, rugged figure, clad in its bizarre uniform,
+trembled as with ague.
+
+On a sudden one of the bands for whose existence he was responsible
+burst into blatant sound in the street beyond. As its inharmonious
+notes reached his ears, he leant forward and hid his face against the
+wall.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII
+
+                        THE MIRACLE OF HEALING
+
+
+The Stranger was seated, conversing with His two disciples. When the
+trio entered He was still. From the street came the noise of the
+Salvation Army band and the voices of the people. There was in the
+air the hum of a great multitude.
+
+Something of his assurance had gone from Mr. Treadman. His tongue was
+not so ready, his bearing more uncertain. When he spoke, it was with
+emotion which was almost tearful, at first, in gentler tones than he
+was wont to use.
+
+'Lord, we Thy servants, sinners though we are, and conscious of our
+infirmities, come to Thee to offer up our supplications. We come in
+the name of Thy people. For though, like children, they have erred
+and strayed, and lacked the wisdom of the Father, yet they are Thy
+children, Lord, and hold Thy name in reverence. And they are many. In
+all the far places of the world they are to be found. And in this
+great city they are for numbers as the sands of the sea. Not all of
+one pattern--not all wise or strong. Associated with the various
+branches of the universal Church, differing in little things, they
+are all of one mind upon one point, their love for Thee. We pray Thee
+to make Thyself known to the great host which is Thy family, assuring
+Thee that Thou hast only to do so to find that it fills all the
+world. The exigencies of modern civilisation render it difficult for
+a mortal monarch to meet his subjects as he would desire; nor, with
+all respect be it urged, is the difficulty made less in the case of
+the King of Kings. Therefore we have ventured, subject to Thy
+approval, to make arrangements for the hire of a large building,
+called the Albert Hall, which is capable of holding several thousand
+persons. And we pray that Thou wilt deign to there meet detachments
+of Thy people in such numbers as the structure will accommodate, as a
+preliminary to the commencement of Thy reign over all the earth.
+Since the people are so anxious to see Thy face that already the
+police find it difficult to keep their eagerness within due bounds,
+we would entreat Thee to delay as little as possible, and to hold Thy
+first reception in the Albert Hall this afternoon. This prayer we lay
+at Thy feet in the hope and trust that Thou wilt not be unwilling to
+avail Thyself of the experience and organising powers of such of Thy
+servants as have spent their lives in the highways and byways of this
+great city, working for Thy Holy Name.'
+
+When Mr. Treadman had finished, the Stranger asked of Mr. Jebb:
+
+'What is it that you would say to Me?'
+
+Mr. Jebb replied:
+
+'I have not Mr. Treadman's command of a particular sort of language,
+but in a general way I would endorse all that he has said, adding a
+postscript for which I am alone responsible. I do not know what is
+the purpose of your presence here, and--with all respect to certain
+of my friends--I do not think that anyone else knows either. I trust
+that you are here for the good of the world at large, and not as the
+representative of this or that system of theology. Should that be the
+case, I would observe that sound religion is synonymous with a sound
+body, and that no soldier is at his best as a fighting man who is
+under-fed. I ask your attention to the poor of London--the materially
+poor. You have, I am told, demonstrated your capacity to perform
+miracles. If ever there was a place in which a miracle was required,
+it is the city of London. Cleanse the streets, purify the dwellings,
+clothe the poor, put food into their bellies, make it possible for
+them to live like decent men and women, and you will raise an
+enduring monument to the honour and glory of God. The human family
+has shown itself incapable of providing adequately for its various
+members. Make good that incapacity, and you will at once establish
+the kingdom of heaven here on earth. I ask to be allowed to place
+before you certain details which will illustrate some of the worst of
+the evils which require attention, in the belief that they have only
+to be brought home to you with sufficient force to be at once swept
+out of existence.'
+
+The Stranger turned to the Rev. Martin Philipps.
+
+'What is it that you would say?'
+
+Mr. Philipps began to stammer.
+
+'I--I had put together the heads of a few remarks which I had
+intended to make on this occasion, but they have all gone from me.'
+He stretched out his arms with a sudden cry: 'Forgive me, Lord, if in
+Thy presence I am dumb.'
+
+'You have done better than these others. Is there not one who waits
+outside? Let him come in.'
+
+The 'General' entered, and fell on the floor at His feet, crying,
+'Lord, Lord!'
+
+He said: 'What would you have of Me?'
+
+'Nothing, Lord, nothing, except that You would hide from me the anger
+which is on Your face!'
+
+'You also are of the company of those who would administer the
+kingdom of heaven as if it were their own. So that God must learn of
+men, not men of God! You call yourselves His children, yet seek not
+to know what is in the Father's heart, but exclaim of the great
+things which are in yours, forgetting that the wisdom of God is not
+as the wisdom of men. So came sin and death into the world, and still
+prevail. Rise. Call not so often on My Name, nor proclaim it so
+loudly in the market-place. Seek yourself to know Me. Take no heed to
+speak of Me foolishly to others, for God is sufficient unto each man
+for his own salvation.'
+
+He arose, and the 'General' also. He said to Mr. Treadman and to Mr.
+Jebb:
+
+'You foolish fellows! To think that God needs to be advised of men!
+Consider what God is; then consider what is man.' He turned to the
+lame man and to the charcoal-burner. 'Come! For there is that to do
+which must be done.'
+
+When He had left the room the 'General' stole after Him. Mr. Jebb
+spoke to Mr. Treadman.
+
+'You and I are a pair of fools!'
+
+'Why do you say that?'
+
+'To suppose that anything that we could say would have the slightest
+weight with Him. It's clearly a case of His will, not ours, be done.
+If tradition is to be trusted, His will was not the popular will in
+the days of old. He'll find that it is still less so now. Millions of
+men, conscious of crying grievances, are not to be treated as
+automata. There's trouble brooding.'
+
+'Oh, if He only would be guided, so easily He might avoid a
+repetition of the former tragedy, and hold undisputed sway in the
+hearts of all men and women which the world contains.'
+
+'I doubt the very easily; and anyhow, He won't be guided. I for one
+shall make no further attempt. I don't know what it is He proposes to
+Himself (I never could clearly understand what was the intention of
+the Christ of tradition), but I'm sure that it was something very
+different to what is in your mind. I am equally certain that the
+world has never seen, and will never suffer, such an autocrat as He
+suggests.'
+
+'Jebb, I know you mean well, I know how you have devoted your whole
+life to the good of others, but I wish I could make you understand
+how every word you utter is a shock to my whole sense of decency and
+reverence.'
+
+'Your sense of decency and reverence! You haven't any. You and
+Philipps and Robins, and all men of your kidney, have less of that
+sort of thing than I have. You are too familiar ever to be reverent.'
+
+'Jebb, what noise is that?'
+
+'He has gone out into the street. At sight of Him the people have
+started shouting. The police will have their hands full if they don't
+look out. Something very like the spirit of riot is abroad.'
+
+'I must follow Him; I must try to keep close to Him, wherever He may
+go. Perhaps my assiduity may at last prevail. As it is, it all
+threatens to turn out so differently to what I had hoped.'
+
+'Yes, you had hoped to be a prominent figure in the proceedings, but
+you are going to take no part in them at all; that's where the shoe
+pinches with you, Treadman.'
+
+Mr. Treadman had not stayed to listen. He was already down the stairs
+and at the street door, to find that the Stranger had just passed
+through it, to be greeted by a chorus of exclamations from those who
+saw Him come.
+
+The spacious roadway was filled with people from end to end--an
+eager, curious, excitable crowd. There were men, women, and children;
+but though it contained a sprinkling of persons of higher social
+rank, it was recruited mostly from that class which sees nothing
+objectionable in a crowd as such. Vehicular traffic was stopped. The
+police kept sufficient open space upon the pavement to permit of
+pedestrians passing to and fro. In front of the house was a
+surprising spectacle. Invalids of all sorts and kinds were there
+gathered together in heterogeneous assemblage. The officials, finding
+it impossible without using violence to prevent their appearance on
+the scene, had cleared a portion of the roadway for their
+accommodation, so that when He appeared, He found Himself confronted
+by all manner of sick. There were blind, lame, and dumb; idiots and
+misshapen folk; sufferers from all sorts of disease, in all stages of
+their maladies. Some were on the bed from which they were unable to
+raise themselves, some were on chairs, some on the bare ground. They
+had been brought from all parts of the city--young and old, male and
+female. There were those among them who had been there throughout the
+night.
+
+When they saw Him come out of the door, those who could move at all
+began to press forward so that they might be able to reach Him,
+crying:
+
+'Heal us! heal us!'
+
+In their eagerness they bade fair to tread each other under foot;
+seeing which the officer who stood at the gate turned to Him, saying:
+
+'Is it you these poor wretches have come to see? If you have
+encouraged them in their madness you have incurred a frightful
+responsibility; the deaths of many of them will be upon your head.'
+
+He replied:
+
+'Speak of that of which you have some understanding.' To the
+struggling, stricken crowd in front of Him He said: 'Go in peace and
+sin no more.'
+
+Straightway they all were healed of their diseases. The sick sprang
+out of their beds and from off the ground, cripples threw away their
+crutches, the crooked were made straight, the blind could see, the
+dumb could talk. When they found that it was so they were beside
+themselves with joy. They laughed and sang, ran this way and that,
+giving vent to their feelings in divers strange fashions.
+
+And all they that saw it were amazed, and presently they raised a
+great shout:
+
+'It is Christ the King!'
+
+They pressed forward to where He stood upon the step. Stretching out
+His hand, He held them back.
+
+'Why do you call me king? Of what am I the king? Of your hearts and
+lives? Of your thoughts at your rising up and lying down? No. You
+know Me not. But because of this which you have seen you exclaim with
+your voice; your hearts are still. Who among you doeth My
+commandments? Is there one who has lived for Me? My name is on your
+tongues; your bodies you defile with all manner of evil. You esteem
+yourselves as gods. There are devils in hell who are nearer heaven
+than some of you. As was said to those of old, Except you be born
+again you know Me not. I know not you; call not upon My name. For
+service which is of the lips only is a thing hateful unto God.'
+
+When He ceased to speak the people drew farther from Him and closer
+to each other, murmuring among themselves:
+
+'Who is he? What are these things which he says? What have we done to
+him that he should speak to us like this?'
+
+A great stillness came over the crowd; for, although they knew not
+why, they were ashamed.
+
+When He came down into the street they made way for Him to pass, no
+one speaking as He went.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                            THE YOUNG MAN
+
+
+The fame of these things passed from the frequenters of the streets
+and the hunters of notoriety to those in high places. The matter was
+discussed at a dinner which was given that night by a Secretary of
+State to certain dignitaries, both spiritual and temporal. There was
+no Mr. Treadman there. The atmosphere was sacrosanct. There was an
+absence of enthusiasm on any subject beneath the sun which, to minds
+of a certain order, is proper to sanctity. The conversation wandered
+from Shakespeare to the musical glasses; until at last something was
+said of the subject of the day.
+
+It was the host who began. He was a person who had risen to his high
+position by a skilful manipulation of those methods which have made
+of politics a thing apart. A clever man, shrewd, versatile, desirous
+of being in the van of any movement which promised to achieve
+success.
+
+'The evening papers are full of strange stories of what took place
+this morning at Maida Vale. They make one think.'
+
+'I understand,' said Sir Robert Farquharson, known in the House of
+Commons as 'the Member for India,' 'that the people are quite
+excited. Indeed, one can see for oneself that there are an unusual
+number of people in the streets, and that they all seem talking of
+the same thing. It reminds one of the waves of religious frenzy which
+in India temporarily drive a whole city mad.'
+
+'We don't go quite so far as that in London, fortunately. Still, the
+affair is odd. Either these things have been done, or they haven't.
+In either case, I confess myself puzzled.'
+
+The Archbishop looked up from his plate.
+
+'There seems to be nothing known about the person of any sort or
+kind--neither who he is, nor what he is, nor whence he comes. The
+most favourable supposition seems to be that he is mentally
+deranged.'
+
+'Suppose he were the Christ?' The Archbishop looked down; his face
+wore a shocked expression. The Secretary smiled; he has not hesitated
+to let it be known that he is in bondage to no creed. 'That would
+indeed be to bring religion into the sphere of practical politics.'
+
+'Not necessarily. It was a Roman blunder which placed it there
+before.'
+
+This was the Earl of Hailsham, whose fame as a diplomatist is
+politically great.
+
+'You think that Christ might come and go without any official notice
+being taken of the matter?'
+
+'Certainly. Why not? That might, and would, have been the case before
+had Pontius Pilate been a wiser and a stronger man.'
+
+'That point of view deserves consideration. Aren't you ignoring the
+fact that this is a Christian country?'
+
+'In a social sense, Carruthers, most decidedly. I hope that we are
+all Christians in England--I know I am--because to be anything else
+would be the height of impropriety.'
+
+The Secretary laughed outright.
+
+'Your frankness shocks the Archbishop.'
+
+Again the Archbishop looked up.
+
+'I am not easily shocked at the difference of opinion on questions of
+taste. It is so easy to jeer at what others hold sacred.'
+
+'My dear Archbishop, I do implore your pardon a thousand times;
+nothing was farther from my intention. I merely enunciated what I
+supposed to be a truism.'
+
+'I am unfortunately aware, my lord, that Christianity is to some but
+a social form. But I believe, from my heart, that, relatively, they
+are few. I believe that to the great body of Englishmen and
+Englishwomen Christianity is still a vital force, probably more so
+to-day than it was some years ago. To the clergy I know it is; by
+their lives they prove it every hour of every day.'
+
+'In a social or a spiritual sense? Because, as a vital force, it may
+act in either direction. Let me explain to you exactly what I mean.
+That it is nothing offensive you will see. My own Rector is a most
+estimable man; he, his curates, and his family are untiring in their
+efforts to increase the influence of the Church among the people.
+There is not a cottager in the parish who does not turn towards the
+Rectory in time of trouble--he would rather turn there than towards
+heaven. In that sense I say that the Rector's is a social, rather
+than a spiritual, influence; he himself would be the first to admit
+it. The work which the Church is doing in the East of London is
+social. The idea seems to be that if you improve the social
+conditions, spiritual improvement will follow. Does it? I wonder.
+Christianity is a vital force in a social sense, thank goodness! But
+my impression is that its followers await the Second Coming of their
+Founder with the same dilettante interest with which the Jews
+anticipate the rebuilding of Jerusalem. Both parties would be
+uncomfortably surprised if their anticipations were fulfilled. They
+would be confronted with a condition for which they were not in any
+way prepared. Candidly, wouldn't they? What would you yourself do if
+this person who is turning London topsy-turvy were actually the
+Christ?'
+
+'I am unable to answer so very serious a question at a moment's
+notice.'
+
+'In other words, you don't believe that he is the Christ; and nothing
+would make you believe. You know such things don't happen--if they
+ever did.'
+
+'You would not believe even though one rose from the dead--eh,
+Archbishop?'
+
+The question came from Sir William Braidwood, the surgeon. The Earl
+of Hailsham looked towards him down the table.
+
+'By the way, what is the truth about that woman at the hospital?'
+
+'The woman was dead; living, she was cancerous. He restored her to
+life; healed of her cancer. No greater miracle is recorded of the
+Christ of tradition. This afternoon a woman came to me who has been
+paralysed for nearly five years, unable to move hand or foot, to
+raise herself on her bed, or to do anything for herself whatever. She
+came on her own feet, ran up the stairs, radiant with life, health,
+and good spirits, in the full enjoyment of all her limbs. She was one
+of those who were at Maida Vale, whither she had been borne upon her
+bed. You should hear her account of what took place. The wonder to me
+is that the crowd was not driven stark, staring mad!'
+
+'These things cause one to think furiously.' The Secretary sipped his
+wine. He addressed the Archbishop. 'Have you received any official
+intimation of what is taking place?'
+
+'I have had letters, couched in the most extraordinary language, and
+even telegrams. Also verbal reports, full of the wildest and most
+contradictory statements. I occupy a position of extreme
+responsibility, in which my slightest word or action is liable to
+misconstruction.'
+
+'Has it been clearly proved,' asked Farquharson, 'that he himself
+claims to be the Christ?' No one seemed to know; no one answered. 'Do
+I understand, Braidwood, that you are personally convinced that this
+person is possessed of supernatural powers?'
+
+'I am; though it does not necessarily follow on that account that he
+is the Christ, any more than that he is Gautama Siddartha or Mahomet.
+I believe that we are all close to what is called the supernatural,
+that we are divided from it by something of no more definite texture
+than a membrane. We have only to break through that something to find
+such powers are. Possibly this person has performed that feat. My own
+impression is that he's a public danger.'
+
+'A public danger? How?'
+
+'Augustus Jebb called to see me before I came away--the social
+science man, I mean. He followed close on the heels of the woman of
+whom I told you. He was himself in Mrs. Powell's house at the time,
+and from a window saw all that occurred. He corroborates her story,
+with additions of his own. A few moments before he, with others, had
+an interview with the miracle-worker. He says that he was afraid of
+him, mentally, physically, morally, because of the possibilities
+which he saw in the man. He justifies his fear by two facts. As you
+are aware, this person stopped last night at the house of Mrs. Miriam
+Powell, the misguided creature who preaches what she calls social
+purity. She was a hale, hearty woman, in the prime of life, as late
+as yesterday afternoon. She was, however, a terrible bore. The
+probability is that, during the night, for some purpose of her own,
+she forced herself into her guest's presence; with the result that
+this morning she was a thing of horror.'
+
+'In what sense?'
+
+'Age had prematurely overtaken her--unnatural age. She looked and
+moved like a hag of ninety. She was mentally affected also, seeming
+haunted by an unceasing causeless terror. She kept repeating: "I have
+seen Him face to face!"--significant words. Jebb's other fact
+referred to Robins, the Salvation Army man. When Robins came into
+this person's presence he was attacked as with paralysis, and
+transformed into a nerveless coward. Jebb says that he is a pitiable
+object. His inference--which I am disposed to endorse--is, that if
+that person can do good he can also do evil, and that it is dependent
+upon his mood which he does. A man who can perform wholesale cures
+with a word may, for all we know, also strike down whole battalions
+with a word. His powers may be new to him, or the probability is that
+we should have heard of him before. As they become more familiar, to
+gratify a whim he may strike down a whole cityful. And there is
+another danger.'
+
+'You pile up the agony, Braidwood.'
+
+'Wait till I have finished. There are a number of wrong-headed
+persons who think that he may be used as a tool for their own
+purposes. For instance, Jebb actually endeavoured to induce him to
+transform London, as it were, with a touch of his wand.'
+
+'What do you mean?'
+
+'You know Jebb's panacea--better houses for the poor, and that sort
+of thing. He tried to persuade this person to provide the London poor
+with better houses, money in their pockets, clothes on their backs,
+and food in their stomachs, in the same instantaneous fashion in
+which he performed his miracle of healing.'
+
+'Is Mr. Jebb mad?'
+
+'I should say certainly not. He has been brought into contact with
+this person, and should be better able to judge of his powers than we
+are. He believes them to be limitless. Jebb himself was badly
+snubbed. But that is only the beginning. He tells me that the man
+Walters, the socialistic agitator, and his friends are determined to
+make a dead set at the wonder-worker, and to leave no stone unturned
+to induce him to bring about a revolution in London. The possibility
+of even such an attempt is not agreeable to contemplate.'
+
+'If these things come to pass, religion--at least, so far as this
+gentleman is concerned--will at once be brought within the sphere of
+practical politics. Don't you think so, Hailsham?'
+
+'It might bring something novel into the political arena. I should
+like to see how parties would divide upon such a question, and the
+shape which it would take. Would the question as to whether he was or
+was not the Christ be made the subject of a full-dress debate, and
+would the result of the ensuing division be accepted as final by
+everyone concerned?'
+
+'I should say no. If the "ayes" had it in the House, the "noes" would
+have it in the country, and _vice versâ_.'
+
+'Farquharson, you suggest some knowledge of English human nature. In
+our fortunate country obstinacy and contrariness are the dominant
+public notes. A Briton resents authority in matters of conscience,
+especially when it emanates from the ill-conditioned persons who
+occupy the benches in the Lords and Commons; which is why religious
+legislation is such a frightful failure.'
+
+This with a sly glance at the Archbishop, who had been associated
+with a Bill for the Better Ordering of Public Worship.
+
+The Duke of Trent joined in the conversation. He was a young man who
+had recently succeeded to the Dukedom. Coming from a cadet branch of
+the family, he had hitherto lived a life of comparative retirement.
+His present peers had not yet made up their minds as to the kind of
+character he was. He spoke with that little air of awkwardness
+peculiar to a certain sort of Englishman who approaches a serious
+subject. His first remark was addressed to Sir William Braidwood:
+
+'But if this is the Christ, would you not expect Him to mete out
+justice as well as mercy? He may have come to condemn as well as to
+bless. In that case a sinner could hardly expect to force himself
+into His presence and escape unscathed.'
+
+'On points of theology I refer you to the Archbishop. My point is,
+that an autocrat possessed of supernatural powers is a public
+danger.'
+
+'Does that include God the Father? He is omnipotent. Whom He will He
+raises up, and whom He will He puts down. So we Christians believe.'
+
+The Archbishop turned towards him.
+
+'You are quite right, Duke; we know it. To suppose that Christ could
+be in any sense a public danger is not only blasphemous but absurd.
+Such a notion could only spring from something worse than ignorance.
+I take it that Sir William discredits the idea that about this person
+there is anything divine.'
+
+'I believe He is the Christ!'
+
+'You do?'
+
+'I do.'
+
+'But why?'
+
+All eyes had turned towards the young man; who had gone white to the
+lips.
+
+'I do not know that I am able to furnish you with what you would
+esteem a logical reason. Could the Apostles have given a mathematical
+demonstration of the causes of their belief? I only know that I feel
+Him in the air.'
+
+'Of this room?'
+
+'Yes, thank God! of this room.'
+
+'You use strange words. Do you base your belief on his reported
+miracles?'
+
+'Not entirely, though I entirely dissent from Sir William Braidwood's
+theory that we are near to what he calls the supernatural; except in
+the sense that we are near heaven, and that God is everywhere. Such
+works are only of Him. Man never wrought them; or never will. My
+mother loved Christ. She taught me to do so. Perhaps that is why I
+know that He is in London now.'
+
+'What do you propose to do?'
+
+'That is what troubles me. I don't know. I feel that I ought to do
+something, but--it is so stupid of me!--I don't know what.'
+
+'Does your trouble resemble the rich young man's of whom some of us
+have read?'
+
+This was the Earl of Hailsham. The Duke shook his head.
+
+'No; it's not that. He knows that I will do anything I can do; but I
+don't think He wants me to do anything at all. He is content with the
+knowledge that I know He is here, that His presence makes me happy. I
+think that's it.'
+
+Such sentiments from a young man were unusual. His hearers stared the
+more. The Archbishop said, gravely, sententiously:
+
+'My dear Duke, I beg that you will give this matter your most serious
+consideration; that you will seek advice from those qualified to give
+it; and that only after the most careful deliberation you will say or
+do anything which you may afterwards regret. I confess I don't
+understand how you arrive at your conclusions. And I would point out
+to you very earnestly how much easier it is to do harm than good.'
+
+The young man, leaning over on to the table, looked his senior
+curiously in the face.
+
+'Don't you know that He is Christ--not in your heart of hearts?'
+
+The question, and the tone of complete conviction with which it was
+put, seemed to cause the Archbishop some disturbance.
+
+'My dear young friend, the hot blood of youth is in your veins; it
+makes you move faster than we old men. You are moved, I think, easily
+in this direction and in that, and are perhaps temperamentally
+disposed to take a good deal for granted.'
+
+'I'm sorry you don't know. You yourself will be sorry afterwards.'
+
+'After what?'
+
+This again was Hailsham.
+
+'After He has gone. He may not stay for long.'
+
+'Trent, I find you a most interesting study. I won't do you the
+injustice to wonder if your attitude can be by any possibility a
+pose, but it takes a great deal for granted. For instance, it
+presumes that the legends found in what are called the four gospels
+are historical documents, which no man has believed yet.'
+
+This roused the Archbishop.
+
+'My lord, this is a monstrous assertion. It is to brand a great
+multitude of the world's best and greatest as liars--the whole host
+of the confessors!'
+
+'They were the victims of self-delusion. There are degrees of belief.
+I have endeavoured to realise Christ as He is pictured in the
+gospels. I am sure no real believer of that Christ ever was a member
+of any church with which I am acquainted. That Christ is in ludicrous
+contrast with all that has been or is called Christianity.'
+
+The Secretary interposed.
+
+'Gently, Hailsham! How have we managed to wander into this
+discussion? If you are ready, gentlemen, we will go into the
+drawing-room. One or two ladies have promised to join us after
+dinner; I think we may find that some of them are already there.
+Archbishop, Hailsham will stultify himself by dragging religion into
+the sphere of practical politics yet.'
+
+'I won't rest,' declared the Archbishop, as he rose from his chair,
+'until I have seen this man.'
+
+'Be careful how you commit yourself, and be sure that you are in good
+bodily health, and free from any sort of nervous trouble, before you
+go. Because, otherwise, it is quite within the range of possibility
+that you won't rest afterwards. And in any case you run a risk. My
+impression is that my suspicions will be verified before long, and
+that it will be seen only too plainly that this person is a grave
+public danger.'
+
+This was Sir William Braidwood. Lord Hailsham exclaimed:
+
+'That suggests something. What do you say, Trent, to our going
+to-morrow to pay our respects together?'
+
+The Duke smiled.
+
+'We should be odd associates. But I don't think that would matter. He
+knows that your opportunities have perhaps been small, and that your
+capacity is narrow. You might find a friend in Him after all. What a
+good thing it would be for you if you did!'
+
+Hailsham laughed outright.
+
+'Will you come?'
+
+'I think not, until He calls me. I shall meet Him face to face in His
+own good time.'
+
+Hailsham laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder.
+
+'Do you know, I'm inclined to ask myself if I haven't chanced upon a
+Christian after all. I didn't know there was such a thing. But I'm
+beginning to wonder. If you really are a Christian after His pattern,
+you've the best of it. If I'm right, I gain nothing. But if you're
+right, what don't I lose?'
+
+The young man said:
+
+'He knows.'
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 III
+
+                      The Passion of the People
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIX
+
+                        THE HUNT AND THE HOME
+
+
+Wherever that day the Stranger went, He was observed of the people.
+It had been stated in a newspaper that a lame man seemed to be His
+invariable companion. The fact that such an one did limp at His side
+served as a mark of recognition; also the charcoal-burner, still in
+the attire in which he plied his forest trade, was an unusual figure
+in a London street. Mr. Treadman, issuing from the house at Maida
+Vale, had been unable to penetrate the crowd which closed behind
+them, so that his vociferous proclamations of identity were absent.
+Still, such a trio moving together through the London streets were
+hardly likely to escape observation.
+
+Not that, for the most part, the Stranger's proceedings were marked
+by the unusual. He passed from street to street, looking at what
+was about Him, standing before the shops examining their contents,
+showing that sort of interest in His surroundings which denotes
+the visitor to town. Again and again He stopped to consider the
+passers-by, how they were as a continual stream.
+
+'They are so many, and among them are so few!'
+
+When He reached the top of Ludgate Hill, He looked up at St. Paul's
+Cathedral.
+
+'This is a great house which men have builded. Let us go in.'
+
+When they were in, He said:
+
+'The Lord is not absent from this house. It is sweet to enter the
+place where they call upon His Name. If He were in their hearts, and
+not only on their tongues!'
+
+A service was commencing. He joined the worshippers. There were many
+there that day who rejoiced exceedingly, although they knew not why.
+
+When the service was over, and they were out in the street again, He
+said:
+
+'It is good that the work of men's hands should be for the glory of
+God; yet if to build a house in His Name availed much, how full would
+the courts of heaven be. This He desires: a clean heart in a clean
+body; for where there is no sin He is. How does it profit a man to
+build unto God if he lives unto the world?'
+
+When they came into Cheapside people were flocking into the
+restaurants for their mid-day meal. He said:
+
+'Come, let us go with them; let us also eat.'
+
+Entering, food was brought to them. The place was full. There was one
+man who, as he went out, spoke to the proprietor:
+
+'That is the man of whom they are all talking. I know it. He
+frightens me.'
+
+'He frightens you! What has he done?'
+
+'It is not that he has done anything; it is that I dare not sit by
+him--I dare not. Let me go.'
+
+'Are you sure that it is he?'
+
+'I am very sure. Here is the money for what I have had--take it.
+Don't trouble about the change; only let me go.'
+
+The speaker rushed into the street like one flying from the wrath to
+come.
+
+There were those who had heard what he had said. Immediately it was
+whispered among them that He of whom such strange tales were told was
+in their very midst. Presently one said to the other:
+
+'My daughter is dying of consumption; I wonder if he could do
+anything to cure her.'
+
+A second said:
+
+'My wife's sick of a fever. It might be worth my while to see if he
+could save further additions to my doctor's bill.'
+
+A third:
+
+'I've a cousin who's deformed--can't do anything for himself--a
+burden on all his friends. Now, if he could be made like the rest of
+us, what a good thing it would be for everyone concerned!'
+
+A fourth:
+
+'My father's suffering from some sort of brain disease. It's not
+enough to enable us to declare him legally insane, but it's more than
+sufficient to cause him to let his business go to rack and ruin. We
+don't know where it will end if the thing goes on. If this worker of
+wonders could do anything to make the dad the man he used to be!'
+
+There were others who told similar tales. Soon they came to where He
+sat, each with his own petition. When he had heard them to an end, He
+said:
+
+'You ask always; what is it you give?'
+
+They were silent, for among them were not many givers. He said
+further:
+
+'He among you who loves God, his prayer shall be answered.' Yet they
+were still. 'Is there not one who loves Him?'
+
+One replied:
+
+'Among those whom you healed this morning, how many were there who,
+as you call it, love God? Yet you healed them.
+
+'Though I heal your bodies, your souls I cannot heal. As I said to
+them, I say to you: Go in peace, and sin no more.'
+
+They went out guiltily, as men whose consciences troubled them. It
+was told up and down the street that He was there. So that when He
+came out a crowd was gathered at the door. Some of those who had
+petitioned Him had proclaimed that He had refused their requests; for
+so they had interpreted His words. When He appeared one cried in the
+crowd:
+
+'Why didn't you heal them, like you did the others?'
+
+And another:
+
+'It seems easy enough, considering that you've only got to say a
+word.'
+
+A third:
+
+'Shame! Only a word, and he wouldn't say it.'
+
+As if under the inspiration of some malign influence, the crowd,
+showing sudden temper, pressed upon Him. Someone shook his fist in
+His face, mocking Him:
+
+'Go on! Go on back where you come from! We don't want you here!'
+
+A big man forced his way through the people. When he had reached the
+Stranger's side he turned upon them in a rage.
+
+'You blackguards, and worse than blackguards--you fools! What is it
+you think you are doing? This morning he healed a great crowd of
+things like you; you know it--you can't deny it. What does it matter
+who he is, or what he is? He has done you nothing but good, and in
+return what would you do to him? Shame upon you, shame!'
+
+They fell back before the speaker's fiery words and the menace which
+was in his bearing. The Stranger said:
+
+'Sir, your vehemence is great. You are not far from those that know
+Me.'
+
+The big man replied:
+
+'Whether I know you or whether I don't, I don't care to stand idly by
+when there are a hundred setting upon one. Besides, from all I hear,
+you've been doing great things for the sick and suffering, and the
+man who does that can always count upon me to lend him a hand.
+Though, mark my words, he who lays a crowd under an obligation is in
+danger. There is nothing to be feared so much as the gratitude of the
+many.'
+
+Police appearing, the crowd in part dispersed. The Stranger began to
+make His way along the pavement, the big man at His side. Still, many
+of the people went with them, who being joined by others, frequently
+blocked the way. Locomotion becoming difficult, a police sergeant
+approached the Stranger.
+
+'If you take my advice, sir, you'll get into a cab and drive off. We
+don't want to have any trouble with a lot like this, and I don't
+think we shall be able to stop them from following you without
+trouble.'
+
+The big man said:
+
+'Better do as the sergeant advises. Now that you have the reputation
+of working miracles, if you don't want to keep on reeling them off
+all day and all night too, you'd better take up your abode on the top
+of some inaccessible mountain, and conceal the fact that you are
+there. They'll make a raree-show of you if they can; and if they
+can't they'll perhaps turn ugly. Better let the sergeant call a cab--
+here are these idiots on to us again!'
+
+He turned into the crowd.
+
+'Let me go about My Father's business.'
+
+They remained where they were, and let Him go.
+
+But He had not gone far before He was perceived of others. It was
+told how He had performed another miracle by holding back the people
+at the Mansion House. Among the common sort there was at once a
+desire to see a further illustration of His powers. Throughout the
+afternoon they pressed upon Him more or less, sometimes fading away
+at the bidding of the police, sometimes swelling to an unwieldy
+throng. For the most part they pursued Him with shouts and cries.
+
+'Do something--go on! Show us a miracle! Stop us from coming any
+further! Let's see how you do it!'
+
+As the evening came He found Himself in a certain street in Islington
+where were private houses. The people pressed still closer; their
+cries grew louder, their importunity increasing because He gave them
+no heed. The police continually urged Him to call a cab and so
+escape. But He asked:
+
+'Where shall I go? In what place shall I hide? How shall I do My
+Father's business if I seek a burrow beneath the ground?'
+
+The constable replied:
+
+'That's no affair of ours. You can see for yourself that this sort of
+thing can't be allowed to go on. If it does, I shouldn't be surprised
+if we had to look you up for your own protection. They'll do you a
+mischief if you don't look out.'
+
+'What have I done to them, save healing those that were sick?'
+
+'I'm not here to answer such questions. All I know is some queer
+ideas are getting about the town. If you knew anything about a London
+mob, you'd understand that the less you had to do with it the
+better.'
+
+Someone called to the Stranger out of one of the little gardens which
+were in front of the houses.
+
+'Come in here, sir, come in here! don't stand on ceremony; give those
+rascals the slip.' The speaker came down to the gate, shouting at the
+people. 'A lot of cowards I call you--yes, a lot of dirty cowards!
+What has he done to you that you hound him about like this? Nothing,
+I'll be bound. If the police did their duty, they'd mow you down like
+grass.' He held the gate open. 'Come in, sir, come in! I can see by
+the look of you that you're an honest man; and it shan't be said that
+an honest man was chivied past George Kinloch's door by such scum as
+this without being offered shelter.'
+
+The Stranger said:
+
+'I thank you. I have here with Me two friends.'
+
+'Bring them along with you; I can find room for three.'
+
+The Stranger and His two disciples entered the gate. As they passed
+into the house the people groaned; there were cat-calls and cries of
+scorn. Mr. Kinloch, standing on his doorstep, shouted back at them:
+
+'You clamouring curs! It is such creatures as you that disgrace
+humanity, and make one ashamed of being a man. Back to your kennels!
+herd with your kind! gloat on the offal that you love!' To the
+Stranger he exclaimed: 'I must apologise to you, sir, for the
+behaviour of these vagabonds. As a fellow-citizen of theirs, I feel I
+owe you an apology. I've no notion what you've done to offend them,
+but I'm pretty sure that the right is on your side.'
+
+'I have done nothing, except heal some that were sick.'
+
+'Heal some that were sick? Why, you don't mean to say---- Are you he
+of whom all the world is talking? Ada! Nella! Lily!' The three whom
+he called came hastening. 'Here is he of whom we were speaking. It is
+he whom that swarm of riff-raff has been chivying. Bid him welcome!
+Sir, I am glad to have you for a guest, though only for a little.'
+
+When He had washed and made ready He found them assembled in the best
+room of the house. The lamps were lit, the curtains drawn; within was
+peace. But through the window came the voices of the people in the
+street. Mr. Kinloch did his utmost to entertain his guest with
+conversation.
+
+'These are my three daughters, as you have probably supposed. Their
+mother is dead.'
+
+'I know their mother.'
+
+'You knew her? Indeed! When and where? It must have been before she
+was married, because I don't seem to recognise your face.'
+
+'I knew her before she was married, and after, and I know her now.'
+
+'Now? My dear sir, she's dead!'
+
+'Such as she do not die.'
+
+Mr. Kinloch stared. The girl Ada touched him on the arm:
+
+'Mother is in heaven; do you not understand?' She went with her
+sisters and stood before Him. 'It is so good to look upon Your face.'
+
+'You have seen it from of old.'
+
+'Then darkly, not as now, in the light.'
+
+'Would that all the world saw Me in the light as you do! Then would
+My Father's brightness shine out upon all men, as does the sun. But
+yet they love the darkness rather than the light.'
+
+Mr. Kinloch inquired, being puzzled:
+
+'What is this? Have you met this gentleman before? Is he a friend of
+yours as well as of your mother's? I thought I knew something of all
+your acquaintance. I've always tried to make a rule of doing so. How
+comes it that you womenfolk have had a friend of whom I've been told
+nothing?'
+
+Ada replied to his question with another.
+
+'Father, do you not know Christ?'
+
+'My dear girl, don't speak to me as if you were one of those women
+who go about with tracts in their hands! Haven't I always observed
+your mother's wishes, and seen that you went regularly to church?
+What do you mean by addressing your father as if he were a heathen?'
+
+'This is Christ.'
+
+'This? Girl, this is a man!'
+
+'Father, have you forgotten that Christ was made man?'
+
+'Yes, but that--that's some time ago.'
+
+'He is made man again. Don't you understand?'
+
+'No, I don't. Sir, I'm not what you might call very intellectual, and
+it's taken me all my time to find the means to bring these girls up
+as young women ought to be brought up. I suppose it's because I'm
+stupid, but, while I'll write myself down a Christian with any man,
+there's a lot of mystery about religion which is beyond my
+comprehension. There's a deal about you in the papers. I'm told
+you've been doing a wonderful amount of good to many who were beyond
+the reach of human help. For that I say, God bless you!'
+
+The Stranger said: 'Amen.'
+
+'At the same time there's much that is being said which I don't
+understand. I don't know who you are, or what you are, except that
+it's pretty clear to me that a man who has been doing what you have
+can't be very far from heaven; and if I ought to know, I'm sorry. God
+gave me a good wife, and she gave me three daughters who are like
+her. She's in heaven--I don't need anyone to tell me that; and if
+they'll only let her know, when they meet her among the angels, that
+I loved her while I'd breath, so long as she and they have all they
+want for ever and for ever, I don't care what God thinks it right to
+do with me. The end and aim of my life has been to make my wife and
+her children happy. If they're happy in heaven I'll be happy, too.
+That's a kind of happiness of which it will not be easy to deprive
+me, no matter where I am.'
+
+'You are nearer to Me than you think.'
+
+'Am I? We'll hope so. I like you; I like your looks; I like your
+voice; I like your ways; I like what you have brought into the house
+with you--it's a sort of a kind of peace. As Ada says--she knows; God
+tells that girl things which perhaps I'm too stupid to be told--it's
+good to look upon your face. Whatever happens in the time to come, I
+never shall be sorry that I've had a chance to see it.'
+
+'You never shall.'
+
+A voice louder than the rest was heard shouting in the street:
+
+'Show us another miracle!'
+
+Ada said:
+
+'You hear that? Why, father, I do believe that a miracle is beginning
+to be worked in you!'
+
+She smiled at him. He took her in his arms and kissed her.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX
+
+                  THEY THAT WOULD ASK WITH A THREAT
+
+
+There was a meeting of Universalists. This was a society whose
+meeting-place was in Soho. It called itself a club, using the word in
+a sense of its own, for anyone was admitted to its membership who
+chose to join; and, as a rule, all comers, whether members or not,
+were free to attend its meetings. It was a focus for discontent. To
+it came from all parts of the world the discontented, examples of
+that huge concourse which has a grudge against what is called
+Society--not of the silent part, which is in the majority, but of
+that militant section whose constant endeavour it is to goad the dumb
+into speech, in the hope and trust that the distance between speech
+and action will not be great.
+
+The place was packed. There were women there as well as
+men--young and old--representatives of most of the nations which
+describe themselves as civilised; their common bond a common misery.
+The talk was old. But in the atmosphere that night was something new.
+Bellows had given vitality to the embers which smouldered in their
+hearts.
+
+Henry Walters was speaking. They listened to him with a passionate
+eagerness which suggested how alluring was the dream which he
+proposed to wrest out of the arena of visions.
+
+'I said to a policeman as I was coming in that I believed we were
+going to have our turn. He laughed. The police have had all the
+laughing. We'll laugh soon. We've been looking for a miracle,
+recognising that a miracle was the only thing that could help us. The
+arrival of a worker of miracles is a new factor in the situation with
+which the police, and all they represent, will have to reckon. It's
+just possible that they mayn't find him an easy reckoning. He who can
+raise a woman from the dead with a word can just as easily turn
+London upside down, and the police with it.
+
+'We've heard of taking the kingdom of heaven by violence. I believe
+that it has been recommended by high authorities as a desirable
+method of procedure. I propose to try it. I propose we go to-morrow
+morning to this worker of miracles, saying: "You see how our wrongs
+ascend as a dense smoke unto Heaven. Put an end to them, so that they
+may cease to be an offence unto God." He has shown that he has bowels
+of compassion. I believe, if we put this plainly to him, with all the
+force that is in us, that the greatest of his miracles will be worked
+for us. If he will heal the sick, he will heal us; for we are sick
+unto more than death, since our pains have dragged us unto the gates
+of hell.
+
+'The fashion of the healing we had better leave to him. Let us but
+point out that we come into the court of his justice asking for our
+rights; if he will give us what is ours we need not trouble about the
+manner of the giving. Let us but remind him that in the sight of God
+all men are equal; if he restores to us our equality, what does it
+matter how he does it? For the substance let the shadow go. But on so
+much we must insist; we must have the substance. We must be healed of
+our diseases, cured of our sores, relieved of our infirmities. If our
+just prayer is quickly heard, good. If not, the kingdom of heaven
+must be taken by violence, and shall be, if we are men and women. How
+are we profited, though miracles are worked for others, if none are
+worked for us? We stand most in need of the miraculous--none could
+come into this room, and see us, and deny it!--and we'll have it, or
+we'll know the reason why. He can scarcely smite us more heavily than
+we are already smitten. I wish to use no threats. I trust no one else
+will use them. I'm hopeful, since he has shown that he has sympathy
+for suffering, that he'll show sympathy for our sufferings. But--I
+say it not as a threat, but as a plain statement of a plain fact--if
+he won't do his best for us, we'll do our worst to him. God grant,
+however, that at last a Saviour has come to us in very deed!'
+
+When Walters stopped a score of persons sprang to their feet. The
+chairman called upon a German, one Hans Küntz, wild, lean, unkempt,
+with something of frenzy in his air. He spoke English with a
+volubility which was only mastered by an occasional idiom; in a thin
+falsetto voice which was like a continuous shriek.
+
+'I am hungry; that is not new. In the two small rooms where I live I
+have a wife and children who are also hungry; that also is not new. I
+run the risk of becoming more hungry by coming out to-night, and
+leaving work that must be finished by the morning. But when I hear
+that there is come to London one who can raise people from the dead,
+I say to my wife: "Then He can raise us too." My wife says: "Go and
+see." So to see I am come. With Mr. Walters I say, Let us all go and
+see--all, all that great London which when it works starves slowly,
+and when it does not work starves fast. We need not speak. We need
+but show Him our faces, how the skin but covers our bones. If he is
+not a devil, he will do to us what he has done to others: he will
+heal us and make us free. What I fear is that it is exaggerated what
+he has done--I have got beyond the region of hope. But if it is true,
+if but the half of it is true--if this morning he healed that crowd
+of people with a word, why should he not do the same to us? Why? Why?
+Did they deserve more than we? Are our needs not greater? We are the
+victims of others' sins. We are the slaves who sow, and reap, and
+garner, and yet are only suffered to eat the husks of the great
+stores of grain for which we give our lives. Surely this healer of
+the sick will give us a chance to live as men should live, and to
+die, when our time comes, as men should die! Oh, my brothers, if God
+has come among us He'll know! He'll know! And if He is a God of
+mercy, a God of love, and not a Siva, a destroyer, who delights in
+the groans and cries of bruised and broken hearts and lives, we have
+but to make to Him our petition, and He'll wipe the tears out of our
+eyes. To-night it is late, but in the morning, early, let us all go
+to Him--all! all!--all go!'
+
+Out of the throng who were eager to speak next a woman was chosen--
+middle-aged, decently dressed, with fair hair and quiet eyes. Her
+voice was low, yet distinct, her manner calm, her language
+restrained, her bearing judicial rather than argumentative.
+
+'Brothers Küntz and Walters seem to take it for granted that the God
+of the Christians is a God of love. I thought so when I was a child;
+I know better now. The idea seems to be supported in the present case
+by the fact that the person of whom we have heard so much has done
+works of healing, of mercy. It is not clear that, in all cases, to
+heal is to be merciful. Apart from that consideration, I would point
+out that the works in question have been spasmodic rather than
+continuous, the fruits, apparently, of momentary whims rather than of
+a settled policy. This afternoon his assistance was invited in
+similar cases. He declined. The crowd continually entreated him to do
+unto them as he had done unto others. Their requests were
+persistently ignored. It is plain, therefore, that one has not only
+to ask to receive. Nor is any attempt made to differentiate between
+the justice of contending claims. If this person is Divine, which I,
+personally, take leave to more than doubt, he is irresponsible. His
+actions are dependent on the mood of the moment.
+
+'I am not saying this with any desire to throw cold water on the
+proposition which has been made to us. On the contrary, I think the
+suggestion that we should go to him in a body--as large a body as
+possible--and request his good offices on our behalf, an excellent
+one. At the same time, I cannot lose sight of one fact: that it is
+one thing to pray; to receive a satisfactory answer--or, indeed, an
+answer of any sort to one's prayer--is quite another. In our childish
+days we have prayed, believing, in vain. In the acuter agonies of our
+later years prayers have been wrung from us--always, still, in vain.
+There seems no adequate reason why, in the present case, we should
+pin our faith to the efficacy of prayer alone. The disease has always
+existed. Why should we suppose that the remedy has become accessible
+to whoever chooses to ask for it? If this person is Divine, he knows
+what we suffer; has always known, yet has done nothing. We are told
+that God is unchangeable, the same for ever and ever. The history of
+the world sustains this theory, inasmuch as it has always been
+replete with human suffering. That, therefore, disposes of any notion
+that it is at all likely that he has suddenly become sensitive to
+mere cries of pain.
+
+'I would lay stress on one word which Brother Walters used more than
+once: violence. We are confronted with an opportunity which may never
+recur, and may vanish if not used quickly. Here is a person who has
+done remarkable things. The presumption is that he can do other
+remarkable things for us, if he chooses. He must be made to choose.
+That is the position.
+
+'Let us clear our minds of cant. We are going to him with a good
+case. The reality of our grievances, the justice of our claims, he
+scarcely will be prepared to deny. Still, you will find him unwilling
+to do anything for us. Probably, assuming an air of Divine
+irresponsibility, he will decline to listen, or to discuss our case
+at all. Such is my own conviction. There will be a general rush for
+him to-morrow. All sorts and conditions of people will have an axe of
+their own to grind. In the confusion, ours will be easily and
+conveniently ignored. Therefore, I say, we must go in as large a body
+as possible, force him to give us an interview, compel him to accede
+to our request--that is, speak for us the same kind of word which he
+spoke for those sick people this morning. If he strikes us dead,
+he'll do himself no good and us no harm, for many of us would sooner
+be dead than as we are. Unless he does strike us dead we ought to
+stick to him until we have wrung from him our desire. It is possible
+that this is a case in which resolution may succeed. At the worst, in
+our plight, with everything to gain, and nothing--nothing--to lose,
+the attempt is one which is worth making, on the understanding that
+we will not take no for an answer, but will use all possible means to
+win a yes. We must make it as plain as it can be made that, if he
+will do nothing for us, he shall do nothing for others, at least on
+earth. What does it matter to us who enters heaven if the door is
+slammed in our faces?'
+
+The next speaker was a man in corduroy trousers and a jacket and
+waistcoat which had once been whity-gray. He wore a cloth cap, and
+round his throat an old red handkerchief. His eyes moved uneasily
+in his head; when they were at rest they threatened. His face was
+clean-shaven, his voice husky. While he spoke, he kept his hands in
+his trousers pockets and his cap on his head. He plunged at once into
+the heart of what he had to say.
+
+'I was one of them as shouted out this afternoon, "Show us a
+miracle!" And I was down at Maida Vale this morning, almost
+on top of them poor creatures as was more dead than alive. He just
+came out of the house, said two or three words, though what they was
+I couldn't catch, and there they was as right as if there'd never
+been nothing the matter with 'em, running about like you and me. And
+yet when I asked him to do something for me, though it'd have only
+cost him a word to do it--not he! He just walked on. I'm broke to the
+wide. Tuppence I've had since yesterday--not two bob this week. What
+I wanted was something to eat--just enough to keep me going till I'd
+a chance of a job. But though he done that this morning--and some
+queer ones there was among the crowd, I tell you!--he wouldn't pay
+attention to me, wouldn't even listen. What I want to know is, Why
+not? And that's what I mean to know before I've done.'
+
+The sentiment met with approval. There were sympathetic murmurs. He
+was not the only hungry man in that audience.
+
+'I'm in trouble--had the influenza, or whatever they call it, and
+lost my job. Never had one since. Jobs ain't easy found by blokes
+what seems dotty on their pins. My wife's in gaol--as honest a woman
+as ever lived; she'd have wore herself to the bone for me. Landlord
+wanted his rent; we hadn't a brown; I was down on my back; she didn't
+want me turned out into the street while I was like that, so she went
+and pawned some shirts what she'd got to iron. They gave her three
+months for it. She'd done two of 'em last Monday. Kid died last week
+and was buried by the parish. Gawd knows what she'll say when she
+hears of it when she comes out. Altogether I seem fairly off my
+level. So I say what the lady afore me says: Let's all go to him in
+the morning, and get him to understand how it is with us, and get him
+to say a word as'll do us good. And if he won't, why, as she says,
+we'll make him! That's all.'
+
+There was no chance of choosing a successor from among the numerous
+volunteers. A man who seemed just insane enough to be dangerous chose
+himself. He broke into a vehement flood of objurgation, writhing and
+gesticulating as if desirous of working himself into a greater frenzy
+than he was in already. He had not been on his feet a minute before
+he had brought a large portion of his audience into a similar
+condition to himself.
+
+'Make him, make him! That's the keynote. Share and share alike,
+that's our motto. No favouritism! The world stinks of favouritism;
+we'll have no more of it from him. We'll let him know it. What he
+does for one he must do for all. If he were to come into this room
+this minute, and were to help half of us, it would be the duty of all
+of us to go for him because he'd left the other half unhelped. He's
+been healing, has he? Who? Somebody. Not us. Why not us as well as
+them? He's got to give us what we want just as he gave them what they
+want, if we have to take him by the throat to take it out of him!'
+
+'We will that!'
+
+'Only got to say a word, has he, and the trick's done? Then he shall
+say that word for us, as he has for others, if we have to drag his
+tongue out by the roots to get at it!'
+
+'That's it--that's the way to talk!'
+
+'Work a miracle, can he, every time he opens his mouth? Then he shall
+work the miracles we want, or, by the living God, he shall never work
+another!'
+
+The words were greeted with a chorus of approving shouts. The fellow
+screamed on. As his ravings grew worse, the excitement of his
+auditors waxed greater. Buffeted all their lives, as it seemed to
+them, by adverse winds, they were incapable of realising that they
+were in any way the victims of their own bad seamanship. For that
+incapacity, perhaps, they were not entirely to blame. They did not
+make themselves. That they should have been fashioned out of such
+poor materials was not the least of their misfortunes.
+
+And their pains and griefs, humiliations and defeats, had been so
+various and so many that it was not strange that their wit had been
+abraded to the snapping-point; the more especially since it had been
+of such poor quality at first.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXI
+
+                              THE ASKING
+
+
+In the morning the thoughts of England were turned towards that house
+in Islington: and no small number of its people were on their way to
+it. The newspapers besieged it with their representatives--on a
+useless quest, though their columns did not lack news on that
+account. Throughout the night the crowd increased in the street. The
+authorities began to be concerned. They acted as if the occasion of
+public interest was a fire. Placing a strong cordon of police at
+either end of the road, they made of it a private thoroughfare; only
+persons with what were empirically regarded as credentials were
+permitted to pass. Only after considerable hesitation was sickness
+allowed to be a passport. When it was officially decided to admit the
+physically suffering an extraordinary scene began to be enacted. It
+almost seemed as if all the hospitals and sick-rooms of London had
+been emptied of their occupants. They came in an unceasing stream.
+The police displayed their wonted skill in the management of the
+amazing crowd. Those who had been brought on beds were placed in the
+front ranks; those on chairs next; those who could stand, though only
+with the aid of crutches, at the back. The people had to be forced
+farther and farther away to make room for the sick that came; and yet
+before it was full day admission had to be refused to any more--every
+foot of available ground was occupied.
+
+There were doctors present, some of whom were dissatisfied with the
+turn matters were taking. Perceiving, perhaps, that if it continued
+their occupation would be gone, they represented to the police that
+if certain of the sufferers did not receive immediate attention they
+might die. So that at an early hour their chief, Colonel Hardinge,
+who had just arrived, knocked at Mr. Kinloch's door. Ada opened.
+
+'I understand that he whom these unfortunate people have come to see
+is at present in this house.'
+
+'The Lord is in this house.'
+
+'Quite so. We won't quarrel about description. The fact is, I'm told
+that if something isn't done for these poor creatures at once,
+they'll die. So, with your permission, I'll see the--er--person.'
+
+'It is not with my permission, but with His. He is the Lord. When He
+wishes to see you, well. He does not wish to see you now.'
+
+She shut the door in the Colonel's face.
+
+'That's an abrupt young lady!'
+
+This he said to the doctors and other persons who were standing at
+the gate. Among them was Sir William Braidwood, who replied:
+
+'I don't know that she isn't right.'
+
+'It's all very well for you to talk like that, but what am I to do?
+You tell me with one breath that if something isn't done people will
+die, and with another that because I try to get something done I
+merit a snubbing.'
+
+'Exactly. This isn't a public institution; the girl has a right to
+resent your treating it as if it were. These people oughtn't to be
+here at all. Those who are responsible for some of them ought to be
+made to stand their trial for murder. This person, whoever he is, has
+promised nothing. They have not the slightest claim upon him. They
+are here as a pure speculation. Your men are to blame for allowing
+them to assemble in such a fashion, not the girl who endeavours to
+protect her guest from intrusion.'
+
+Someone called out from the crowd:
+
+'Ain't he coming, sir? I'm fair finished, I am--been here six hours.
+I'm clean done up.'
+
+'What right have you to be there at all? You ought to be at home in
+bed.'
+
+'I've come to be healed.'
+
+'Come to be healed! I suppose if you want a hatful of money, you
+think you've only got to ask for it. You've no right to be here.'
+
+Murmurs arose--cries, prayers, stifled execrations. An inspector said
+to his chief:
+
+'If something isn't done, sir, I fancy there'll be trouble. Our men
+have difficulty in keeping order as it is. Half London must be here,
+and they're coming faster than ever. There's an ugly spirit about,
+and some ugly customers. If it becomes known that nothing is going to
+be done for these poor wretches, I don't know what will happen. How
+we are going to get them safely away is more than I can guess.'
+
+'You hear what Sir William Braidwood says.'
+
+'Begging Sir William's pardon, it's a choice of evils, and if I were
+you, sir, I should try again. They can't refuse to let you see this
+person. Not that I suppose he can do what they think he can, but
+still there you are.'
+
+'He can do it.'
+
+'With a word?'
+
+'With a word.'
+
+'Then he ought to.'
+
+'Why? I can give you a thousand pounds with a word. But why ought I
+to?'
+
+'That's different.'
+
+'You'll find that a large number of people don't think it's
+different. These people want the gift of health; others in the crowd
+there want the gift of wealth. I dare wager there's no form of want
+which is not represented in that eager, greedy, lustful multitude.
+The excuse is common to them all: he can give it with a word. I am of
+your opinion, there will be trouble; because so many persons
+misunderstand the situation.'
+
+Colonel Hardinge arrived at a decision:
+
+'I think I will have another try. We can't have these people here all
+day, so if he won't have anything to do with them, the sooner they
+are cleared out of this, the better. What I have to do is to find out
+how it's going to be.'
+
+He knocked again. This time the door was opened by Mr. Kinloch, who
+at once broke into voluble speech.
+
+'It was you who came just now; what do you mean by coming again?
+What's the meaning of these outrageous proceedings? Can't I have a
+guest in my house without being subjected to this abominable
+nuisance?'
+
+'I grant the nuisance, but would point out to you, sir, that we are
+the victims of it as well as you. If you will permit me to see your
+guest I will explain to him the position in a very few words. On his
+answer will depend our action.'
+
+'My guest desires to be private; I must insist upon his privacy being
+respected. My daughter has been speaking to him. She tells me that he
+says that he has nothing to do with these people, and that they have
+nothing to do with him.'
+
+'If that is the case, and that is really what he says, and I am to
+take it for an answer, then the matter is at an end.'
+
+Ada's voice was heard at the back.
+
+'Father, the Lord is coming.'
+
+The Stranger came to the door. In a moment the Colonel's hat was in
+his hand.
+
+'I beg a thousand pardons, sir, for what I cannot but feel is an
+intrusion; but the fact is, these foolish people have got it into
+their heads that they have only to ask you, and you will restore them
+to health. Am I to understand, and to give them to understand, that
+in so thinking they are under an entire delusion?'
+
+'I will speak to them.'
+
+The Stranger stood upon the doorstep. When they saw Him they began to
+press against each other, crying:
+
+'Heal us! Heal us!'
+
+'Why should I heal you?'
+
+There was a momentary silence. Then someone said:
+
+'Because you healed those others.'
+
+'What they have you desire. It is so with you always. You cry to Me
+continually, Give! give! What is it you have given Me?'
+
+The same voice replied:
+
+'We have nothing to give.'
+
+'You come to Me with a lie upon your lips.'
+
+The fellow threw up his arms, crying:
+
+'Lord! Lord! have mercy on me, Lord!'
+
+He answered:
+
+'Those among you that have given Me aught, though it is never so
+little, they shall be healed.' No one spoke or moved. 'Behold how
+many are the cheerful givers! I come not to give, but to receive. I
+seek My own, and find it not. All men desire something, offering
+nothing. This great city, knowing Me not, asks Me continually for
+what I have to give. Though I gave all it craves, it would be still
+farther off from heaven. It prizes not that which it has, but covets
+that which is another's, hating it because it is his. Return whence
+you came; cleanse your bodies; purify your hearts; think not always
+of yourselves; lift up your eyes; seek continually the knowledge of
+God. When you know Him but a thousandth part as He knows you, you
+need ask Him nothing, for He will give you all that you desire.'
+
+With that He returned into the house.
+
+When they saw Him go an outcry at once arose.
+
+'Is that all? Only talk? Why, any parson could pitch a better yarn
+than that! Isn't He going to do anything? Isn't He going to heal us?
+What, not after healing those people yesterday at Maida Vale, and
+after our coming all this way and waiting all this time?'
+
+The rougher sort who could use their limbs began to press forward
+towards the house, forcing down those who were weaker, many of whom
+filled the air with their cries and groans and curses. The police did
+their best to stem the confusion.
+
+There came along the avenue on the pavement which the police had kept
+open Henry Walters and certain of his friends. They were escorted by
+a sergeant, who saluted Colonel Hardinge.
+
+'This man Walters wants to see the person all the talk's about. There
+are a lot of his friends in the crowd, and rather than have any fuss
+I thought I'd let them come.'
+
+'Right, sergeant. Mr. Walters is at liberty to see this person if
+this person is disposed to see him, which I'm rather inclined to
+doubt.'
+
+'We'll see about that,' muttered Walters to his companions, as with
+them he hurried up the steps.
+
+At the top he paused, regarding the poor wretches struggling
+fatuously in the street.
+
+'That looks promising for us. So he won't heal them. Why? No reason
+given, I suppose. I dare say he won't heal us; for the same reason.
+Well, we'll see. Mind you shut the front door when we go in. I rather
+fancy we shall want some persuasion before we see the logic of such a
+reason as that.'
+
+The door was closed as he suggested. In the hall he was met by Ada.
+
+'What is it that you want?'
+
+'You know very well what it is. We want a few words with the stranger
+who is in this house.'
+
+'It is the Lord!'
+
+'Very well. We want a few words with the Lord.'
+
+'You cannot enter His presence uninvited.'
+
+'Can't we? I think you are mistaken. Is He in that room? Stand aside
+and let me see.'
+
+'You may not pass.'
+
+'Don't be silly. We're in no mood for manners. Will you move, or must
+I make you? Do you hear? Come away.'
+
+He laid his hand upon the girl's shoulder. As he did so the Stranger
+stood in the open door. When they saw Him, and perceived how in
+silence He regarded them, they drew a little back, as if perplexed.
+Then Walters spoke:
+
+'I'm told that you are Christ.'
+
+'What has Christ to do with you, or you with Christ?'
+
+'That's not an answer to my question. However, without entering into
+the question of who you are, it seems that you can work wonders when
+you choose.'
+
+There was a pause as if for a reply. The Stranger was still, so
+Walters went on.
+
+'We represent a number of persons who are as the sands of the sea for
+multitude, the victims of man's injustice and of God's.'
+
+'With God there is no injustice.'
+
+'That is your opinion. We won't argue the point; it's not ours. We
+come to plead the cause of myriads of people who have never known
+happiness from the day they were born. Some of them toil early and
+late for a beggarly wage; many of them are denied the opportunity of
+even doing that. They have tried every legitimate means of bettering
+their condition. They have hoped long, striven often, always to be
+baffled. Their brother men press them back into the mire, and tread
+them down in it. We suggest that their case is worthy your
+consideration. Their plight is worse to-day than it ever was; they
+lack everything. Health some of them never had; they came into the
+world under conditions which rendered it impossible. Most of them who
+had it have lost it long ago. Society compels them to live lives in
+which health is a thing unknown. Their courage has been sapped by
+continuous failure. Hope is dead. Joy they never knew. Misery is
+their one possession. Under these circumstances you will perceive
+that if you desire to do something for them it will not be difficult
+to find something which should be done.'
+
+Another pause; still no reply.
+
+'We do not wish to cumber you with suggestions; we only ask you to do
+something. It will be plain to your sense of justice that there could
+be no fitter subjects for benevolence. Yet all that we request of you
+is to be just. You are showering gifts broadcast. Be just; give also
+something to them to whom nothing ever has been given. I have the
+pleasure to await your answer.'
+
+He answered nothing.
+
+'What are we to understand by your silence?--that you lack the power,
+or the will? We ask you, with all possible courtesy, for an answer.
+Courtesy useless? Still nothing? There is a limit even to our
+civility. Understand, also, that we mean to have an answer--somehow.'
+
+Ada touched him on the arm, whispering:
+
+'It is the Lord!'
+
+'Is he a friend of yours?'
+
+'He is a Friend of all the world.'
+
+'It doesn't look like it at present, though we hope to find it the
+case before we've finished. Come, sir! You hear what this young lady
+says of you. We're waiting to hear how you propose to show that
+you're a friend of that great host of suffering souls on whose behalf
+we've come to plead to you.'
+
+Yet He was still. Walters turned to his associates.
+
+'You see how it is? It's as I expected, as was foreseen last night.
+If we want anything, we've got to take the kingdom of heaven by
+violence. Are we going to take it, or are we going to sneak away with
+our tails between our legs?'
+
+The woman answered who had spoken at the meeting the night before--
+the fair-haired woman, with the soft voice and quiet eyes:
+
+'We are going to take it.' She went close to the Stranger. 'Answer
+the question which has been put to you.' When He continued silent,
+she struck Him on the cheek with her open palm, saying: 'Coward!'
+
+Ada came rushing forward with her father and her sisters. With a
+movement of His hand He kept them back. Walters applauded the woman's
+action.
+
+'That's right--for a beginning; but he'll want more than that. Let me
+talk to him.' He occupied the woman's place. 'We've nothing to lose.
+You may strike us dead; we may as well be dead as living the sort of
+life with which we are familiar; it is a living death. I defy you to
+cast us into a worse hell than that in which we move all day and
+every day. If you are Christ, you have a chance of winning more
+adherents than were ever won for you by all the preaching through all
+the ages, and with a few words. If you are man, we will make you king
+over all the earth, and all the world will cry with one heart and one
+voice: "God save the King!" And whether you are Christ or man, every
+heart will be filled with your praises, and night and morning old and
+young will call with blessings on your name. Is not that a prospect
+pleasing even unto God? And all this for the utterance of perhaps a
+dozen words. That is one side of the shield. Does it not commend
+itself to you? I ask you for an answer.
+
+'None? Still dumb? I'll show you something of the other side. If you
+are resolute to shut your ears to our cries, and your eyes to our
+misery, we'll crucify you again. Don't think that those police
+outside will help you, or anything of that sort, because you'll be
+nursing a delusion. You'll be crucified by a world in arms. When it
+is known that with a word you can dry the tears that are in men's
+eyes, and yet refuse to utter it--when that is generally known, it
+will be sufficient. For it will have been clearly demonstrated that
+you must be a monster of whom the world must be rid at all and any
+cost. Given such a capacity, none but a monster would refuse to
+exercise it. And the fact that, according to some narrow code of
+scholastic reasoning, you may be a faultless monster will make the
+fact worse, not better. For faultlessness of that sort is in
+continual, cruel, crushing opposition to poor, weak, human nature.
+Now will you give me an answer?'
+
+When none came, and His glance continued fixed upon the other's face
+with a strange, unfaltering intensity, Walters went still closer.
+
+'Shall I shake the answer out of you?' Putting up his hand, he took
+the Stranger by the throat; and when He offered no resistance, began
+to shake Him to and fro. Ada, running forward, struck at Walters with
+so much force that, taken by surprise, he let the Stranger go. She
+cried:
+
+'It is the Lord! It is the Lord!'
+
+'What is that to us? Why doesn't he speak when he's spoken to? Is he
+a wooden block? You take care what you do, my girl. You'd be better
+employed in inducing your friend to answer us. Lord or no Lord.
+There'd be no trouble if he'd treat us like creatures of flesh and
+blood. If he'd a spark of feeling in his breast, he'd recognise that
+the very pitifulness of our condition--our misery, our despair!--
+entitles us to something more than the brand of his scornful silence;
+he'd at least answer yes or no unto our prayers.'
+
+Ada wept as if her heart would break, sobbing out from amidst her
+grief:
+
+'It is the Christ! It is the Lord Christ!'
+
+Her father, forcing his way to the front door, had summoned
+assistance. A burly sergeant came marching in.
+
+'What's the matter here? Oh, Mr. Walters, it's you! You're not wanted
+in here. Out you go--all of you. If you take my advice you'll go
+home, and you'll get your friends to go home too. There'll be some
+trouble if you don't take care!'
+
+'Go home? Sergeant, you see that Man? Have you anywhere a tender
+place? Is there any little thing which, if you had it, would make
+your life brighter and more worth the living? That Man, by the
+utterance of a word, can make of your life one long, glad song; give
+you everything you are righteously entitled to deserve; so they tell
+me. Go home to the kennels in which we herd when the Christ who has
+come to release us from our bondage will not move a finger, or do
+aught to loose our bonds, but, seeing how we writhe in them, stands
+mutely by? No, sergeant. We'll not go home till we've had a reckoning
+with Him.'
+
+He stretched out his arm, pointing at the Stranger.
+
+'I'll meet you at another Calvary. You've crucified me and mine
+through the ages, and would crucify us still, finding it a royal
+sport at which it were blasphemy to cavil. Beware lest, in return,
+you yourself are not crucified again.'
+
+When Walters and his associates had gone, the sergeant said,
+addressing the Stranger:
+
+'I'm only doing my duty in telling you that the sooner you clear out
+of this, the better it'll be for everyone concerned. You're getting
+yourself disliked in a way which may turn out nasty for you, in spite
+of anything we can do. There's half a dozen people dead out in the
+street because of you, and there's worse to come, so take my tip and
+get out the back way somewhere. Find a new address, and when you have
+found it keep it to yourself. We don't want to have London turned
+upside down for anyone, no matter who it is.'
+
+The sergeant went. And then words came from the Stranger's lips, as
+if they had been wrung from His heart; for the sweat stood on His
+brow:
+
+'Father, is it, then, for this that I am come to the children that
+call upon My Name in this great city, where on every hand are
+churches built for men to worship Christ? What is this idol which
+they have fashioned, calling it after My Name, so that wherever I go
+I find a Christ which is not Me? Lord! Lord! they cry; and when the
+Lord comes they say, It is not you we called, but another. They deny
+Me to My face. The things I would they know not. In their blindness,
+knowing nothing, they would be gods unto themselves, making of You a
+plaything, the servant of their wills. As of old, they know not what
+they do. Aforetime, by God's chosen people was I nailed unto a tree.
+Am I again to suffer shame at the hands of those that call themselves
+My children? Yet, Father, let it be so if it is Your will.'
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII
+
+                          A SEMINARY PRIEST
+
+
+In the street was riot; confusion which momentarily threatened to
+become worse confounded. In the press were dignitaries of the Church;
+that Archbishop whom we met at dinner; Cardinal De Vere, whose grace
+of bearing ornaments the Roman establishment in England; with him a
+young seminary priest, one Father Nevill. The two high clerics were
+on a common errand. Their carriages encountering each other on the
+outskirts of the crowd, they had accepted the services of a friendly
+constable, who offered to pilot them through the excited people. At
+his heels they came, scarcely in the ecclesiastical state which their
+dignity desired.
+
+As they neared the house they were met by the departing Mr. Walters
+and his friends. Recognising who they were, Walters stopped to shout
+at them in his stentorian tones:
+
+'So the High Priests have come! To do reverence to their Master? To
+prostrate themselves at His feet in the dust, or to play the patron?
+To you, perhaps, He'll condescend; with these who, in their misery,
+trample each other under foot He'll have no commerce; has not even a
+word with which to answer them. But you, Archbishop and Cardinal,
+Princes of His Most Holy Church, perhaps He'll have a hand for each
+of you. For to those that have shall be given, and from those that
+have not shall be taken away. He'll hardly do violence to that most
+excellent Christian doctrine. Tell Him how much you have that should
+be other men's; maybe He'll strip them of their skins to give you
+more.'
+
+The constable thrust him aside.
+
+'Move on, there! move on! That's enough of that nonsense!'
+
+'Oh yes,' said Walters, as they forced him back into the seething
+throng; 'oh yes, one soon has enough of nonsense of that kind. Christ
+has come! God help us all!'
+
+On the steps that led up to the door a woman fought with the police.
+She was as a mad thing, screaming in her agony:
+
+'Let me see Christ! Let me see Him! My daughter's dead! I brought her
+to be healed; she's been killed in the crowd; I want Him to bring her
+back to life. Let me see Christ! Let me see Him!'
+
+They would not. Lifting her off her feet, they bore her back among
+the people.
+
+'What a terrible scene!' murmured the Archbishop. 'What lamentable
+and dangerous excitement!'
+
+'You represent a Church, my dear Archbishop,' replied the Cardinal,
+'which advocates the freedom of private judgment. These proceedings
+suggest that your advocacy may have met with even undesired success.'
+
+The Archbishop, looking about him with dubious glances, said to the
+policeman who had constituted himself their guide:
+
+'This sort of thing almost makes one physically anxious. The people
+seem to be half beside themselves.'
+
+'You may well say that, my lord. I never saw a crowd in such a mood
+before; and I've seen a few. I hear they've sent for the soldiers.'
+
+'The soldiers? Dear, dear! how infinitely sad!'
+
+When they were seen on the steps, guarded by the police, waiting for
+the door to open, the crowd yelled at them. The Archbishop observed
+to his companion:
+
+'I'm not sure, after all, that it was wise of me to come. Sometimes
+it is not easy to know what to do for the best. I certainly did not
+expect to find myself in the midst of such a scene of popular
+frenzy.'
+
+Said the Cardinal:
+
+'It at least enables us to see one phase of Protestant England.'
+
+They were admitted by Ada, to whom the Archbishop introduced himself.
+
+'I am the Archbishop, and this is Cardinal De Vere. We have come to
+see the person who is the cause of all this turmoil.'
+
+Ada stopped before the open door of a room.
+
+'This is the Lord!'
+
+Within stood the Stranger, as one who listens to that which he
+desires, yet fears he will not hear: who looks for that for which he
+yearns, yet knows he will not see. The Archbishop fitted his glasses
+on his nose.
+
+'Is this the person? Really! How very interesting! You don't say so!'
+
+Since the Stranger had paid no heed to their advent, the Archbishop
+addressed himself to Him courteously:
+
+'Pardon me if this seems an intrusion, or if I have come at an
+inconvenient moment, but I have received such extraordinary accounts
+of your proceedings that, as head of the English Church, I felt bound
+to take them, to some extent, under my official cognisance.'
+
+The Stranger, looking at him, inquired:
+
+'In your churches whom do you worship?'
+
+'My dear sir! What an extraordinary question!'
+
+'What idol have you fashioned which you call after My Name?'
+
+'Idol! Really, really!'
+
+'Why do you cry continually: "Come quickly!" when you would not I
+should come?'
+
+'What very peculiar questions, betraying a complete ignorance of the
+merest rudiments of common knowledge! Is it possible that you are
+unaware that I am the head of the Christian hierarchy?'
+
+Said the Cardinal:
+
+'Of the English branch of the Protestant hierarchy, I think,
+Archbishop, you should rather put it. You are hardly the undisputed
+head of even that. Do your Nonconformist friends admit your primacy?
+They form a not inconsiderable section of English Protestantism. When
+informing ignorance let us endeavour to be accurate.'
+
+'The differences are not essential. We are all branches of one tree,
+whose stem is Christ. To return to the point. This is hardly a
+moment, Cardinal, for theological niceties.'
+
+'You were tendering information; I merely wished it to be correct,
+for which I must ask you to forgive me.'
+
+'Your Eminence is ironical. However, as I said, to return to the
+point. The public mind appears to be in a state of most lamentable
+excitement. The exact cause I do not pretend to understand. But if
+your intentions are what I hope they are, you can scarcely fail to
+perceive that you owe it to yourself to remedy a condition of affairs
+which already promises to be serious. I am told that there is a
+notion abroad that you have advanced pretensions which I am almost
+convinced you have not done. I wish you to inform me, and to give me
+authority to inform the public, who and what you are, and what is the
+purport of your presence here.'
+
+'I am He that you know not of.'
+
+'That, my dear sir, is the very point. I am advised that you are
+possessed of some singular powers. I wish to know who the person is
+who has these powers, and how he comes to have them.'
+
+'There is one of you that knows.'
+
+The young priest advanced, saying:
+
+'I know You, Lord!'
+
+The Stranger held out to him His hand.
+
+'Welcome, friend!'
+
+'My Lord and my Master!'
+
+While they still stood hand in hand, the Stranger said:
+
+'There are those that know Me, nor are they few. Yet what are they
+among so many? In all the far places of the world men call upon My
+Name, yet know so little of what is in their hearts that they would
+destroy Me for being He to whom they call.'
+
+'But shall the day never come when they shall know You?'
+
+'Of themselves they must find Me out. Not by a miracle shall a man be
+brought unto the knowledge of God.'
+
+Cardinal De Vere said to the young priest:
+
+'Your stock of information appears to be greater than that of your
+spiritual superiors, Father. At Louvain do they teach such
+forwardness, or is this an acquaintance of your seminary days?'
+
+'Yes, Eminence, indeed, and of before them too. For this is our Lord
+and Saviour Jesus Christ, who died for us, yet lives again, to whose
+service I have dedicated my life, and your Eminence your life also.'
+
+'My son, let not your tongue betray you into speaking folly. For
+shame, my son, for shame!'
+
+'But does not your Eminence know this is the Lord? Can you look upon
+His face and not see that it is He, or enter into His presence and
+not know that He is here?'
+
+'Put a bridle upon that insolent tongue of yours. Come from that
+dangerous fellow.'
+
+'Fellow? Eminence, it is the Lord! It is the Lord!' He turned to the
+Stranger. 'Lord Jesus, open the eyes of his Eminence, that he may see
+You, and his heart, that he may know that You are here!'
+
+'Did I not say that no miracle shall bring a man to the knowledge of
+Me? If of himself he knows Me not, he will not know Me though I raise
+him out of hell to heaven.'
+
+The young priest turned again to the Cardinal.
+
+'But, Eminence, it is so strange! so wonderful! Your vocation is for
+Christ; you point always to His cross; you keep your eyes upon His
+face; and yet--and yet you do not know Him now that He is here! Oh,
+it is past believing! and you, sir, you are also a religious. Surely
+you know this is the Lord?'
+
+This was to the Archbishop, who began to stammer:
+
+'I--I know, my dear young friend, that you--you are saying some
+very extraordinary things--things which you--you ought to carefully
+consider before you--you utter them. Especially when I consider
+your--your almost tender years.'
+
+'Extraordinary things! It is the Lord! it is the Lord! How shall you
+wonder at those who denied Him at the first if you, who preach Him,
+deny Him now? Oh, Eminence! oh, sir! look and see. It is the Lord!'
+
+'Silence, sir! Another word of the sort and you are excommunicated.'
+
+'For knowing it is the Lord?'
+
+'For one thing, sir--for not knowing that on such matters Holy Church
+pronounces. Did they teach you so badly at Louvain that you have
+still to learn that in the presence of authority it is the business
+of a little seminary priest to preserve a reverent silence? It is not
+for you to oppose your variations of the creed upon your spiritual
+superiors, but to receive, with a discreet meekness, and in silence,
+your articles of faith from them.'
+
+'If the Lord proclaims Himself, are His children to refuse Him
+recognition until the Church commands?'
+
+'You had better return to your seminary, my son--and shall--to
+receive instruction in the rudiments of the Catholic faith.'
+
+'If for any cause the Church withholds its command, is the Lord to
+depart unrecognised?'
+
+'Say nothing further, sir, till you have been with your confessor. I
+command you to be silent until then.'
+
+'Is, then, the Church against the Lord? It cannot be--it cannot be!'
+The young priest turned to the Stranger with on his face surprise,
+fear, wonder. 'Lord, of those that are here are You known to me
+alone?'
+
+Ada came forward with her sisters.
+
+'We also know the Lord.'
+
+The Stranger said:
+
+'Is it not written that many are called, but few chosen? As it was,
+is now, and ever will be. It is well that you know Me, and these that
+are the daughters of one who knows Me as I would be known; and there
+are those that know Me nearly.' With that He looked at Mr. Kinloch.
+'Also here and there among the multitudes whom God has fashioned in
+His own image am I known, and in the hidden places of the world.
+Where quiet is, there am I often. Men that strive with their fellows
+in the midst of the tumult for the seats of the mighty call much upon
+My Name, but have Me little in their hearts; there is not room. Those
+that make but little noise, but are content with the lower seats,
+waiting upon My Father's will, they have Me much in their hearts, for
+there is room. Wherefore I beseech you to continue a little priest in
+a seminary, great in the knowledge of My Father, rather than a pillar
+of the Church, holding up heaven on your hands: for he that seeks to
+bear up heaven is of a surety cast down into hell. Would, then, that
+all men might be little men, since in My Father's presence they might
+have a better chance of standing high.'
+
+The Cardinal, holding himself very straight, went closer to the young
+priest. His voice was stern.
+
+'Father Nevill, your parents were my friends; because of that I have
+attached you to my person; because, also, of that I am unwilling to
+see you put yourself outside the pale of Holy Church as becomes a
+fool rather than a man of sense. What hallucination blinds you I
+cannot say. Your condition is probably one which calls for a medical
+diagnosis rather than for mine. How you can be the even momentary
+victim of so poor an impostor is beyond my understanding. But it ill
+becomes such as I am to seek for explanations from such as you. Your
+part is to obey, and only to obey. Therefore I bid you instantly to
+leave this--fellow; bow your head, and seek with shame absolution for
+your grievous sin. Do this at once, or it will be too late.'
+
+When the young priest was about to reply, the Stranger, going to the
+Cardinal, looking him in the face, asked: 'Am I an impostor?'
+
+The Cardinal did his best to meet His look, and return Him glance for
+glance. Presently his eyes faltered; he looked down. His lips
+twitched as if to speak. His gaze returned to the Stranger's
+countenance. But only for a moment. Suddenly he put up his hands
+before his face as if to shield it from the impact of the pain and
+sorrow which were in His eyes. He muttered:
+
+'What have I to do with you?'
+
+'Nothing; verily, and alas!'
+
+'Why have you come to judge me before my time?'
+
+'Your time comes soon.'
+
+The Cardinal, dropping his hands, straightened himself again, as if
+endeavouring to get another grip upon his courage.
+
+'I lean on Holy Church. She will sustain me.'
+
+'Against Me?'
+
+The Cardinal staggered against the wall, trembling so that he could
+hardly stand. The Archbishop cried, also trembling:
+
+'What ails your Eminence? Cardinal, what is wrong?'
+
+His Eminence replied, as if he all at once were short of breath:
+
+'The rock--on which--the Church is founded--slips beneath my feet!'
+
+The Archbishop surveyed him with frightened eyes.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIII
+
+                            AND THE CHILD
+
+
+The noise in the street had continued without ceasing. It grew
+louder. A sound arose as of many voices shrieking. While it still
+filled the air the lame man and the charcoal-burner descended from an
+upper room. They spoke of the tumult.
+
+'The people are fighting with the police as if they have gone mad.'
+
+'They seek Me,' said the Stranger.
+
+The lame man looked at him anxiously.
+
+'You!'
+
+'Even Me. Fear not. All will be well.'
+
+'Who are these persons?' inquired the Archbishop.
+
+'They are of those that know Me.'
+
+'Ay,' said the charcoal-burner, 'I know You--know You very well, I
+do. So did my old woman; she knowed You, too. I be that glad to have
+seen You. It's done me real good, that it have.'
+
+'You have been with me so long; then this little while, and soon for
+ever.'
+
+'Ay, very soon.'
+
+'Father, these are of those that know Thy Son.'
+
+He touched with His hand the six persons that were about Him.
+
+The Archbishop plucked the Cardinal by the sleeve.
+
+'I--I really think we'd better go. I--I'm not feeling very well.'
+
+There came a succession of crashes. The Cardinal stood up.
+
+'What's that? It's stones against the windows. Unless I err, they
+have shivered every pane.'
+
+Someone knocked loudly at the door. The Cardinal moved as if to open.
+The Archbishop sought to restrain him.
+
+'What are you doing? It isn't safe to open. The people may come in.'
+
+The Cardinal smiled.
+
+'Let them. The sooner the thing is done the better. To you and me
+what does it matter what comes?'
+
+On the doorstep stood that Secretary of State who had given the
+dinner at which the Archbishop had been present. Behind him was the
+yelling mob.
+
+'Your Eminence! This is an unexpected pleasure. The Archbishop, too!
+How delightful! The people seem in a curious frame of mind; our
+friend Braidwood is justified--already. It's a wonder I'm here alive.
+I am told that several persons have been killed in the crowd--
+terrible! terrible! My own opinion is that we're threatened with the
+most serious riot which London has known in my time. Ah, dear sir!'
+He bowed to the Stranger. 'I need not ask if you are he to whom I
+desire to tender my sincerest salutations. There is that about you
+which tells me that I stand in the presence of no mean person.
+Unfortunately, I am so constituted as to be incapable of those more
+ardent feelings which are to the enthusiast his indispensable
+equipment. Therefore I am not of that material out of which they
+fashion devotees. Yet, since I cannot doubt that my trifling personal
+peculiarities are known to him who, as I am informed, knows all, I
+venture to trust that they will be regarded as extenuating
+circumstances should I ever stand in instant need of palliation.'
+
+The Stranger was still.
+
+The stones still rattled against the windows, smashed against the
+door. Again there came a knocking. The tumult had grown so great, the
+cries so threatening, that those within were trembling, hesitating
+what to do. When the Stranger moved towards the door, the Secretary
+of State prevented Him.
+
+'Sir, I beg of you! I fear it is you they wish to see, with what
+purpose you may imagine from the noise which they are making. Permit
+me to answer the knocking. At the present moment I am of less public
+interest than you.'
+
+He opened. There was an excited sergeant of police.
+
+'The person who's in here must get away by the back somewhere at
+once; those are my orders. The people have found out that they can
+get to this house from the street behind; they're starting off to do
+it. We don't want murder done, and there will be murder if he doesn't
+take himself off pretty quick.'
+
+'Is it so bad as that?'
+
+'So bad as that? Look at them yourself. I never saw them in such a
+state. They're stark, staring mad. All the streets about are full of
+them; they're all the same. That man Walters and his friends have
+been working a lot of them into a frenzy; murder is what they mean.
+Then there's over a hundred been killed in front here, so I'm told--
+poor wretches who came to be healed. The crowd will tear him to
+pieces if they get him. He must get away somehow over the walls at
+the back.'
+
+'Over the walls at the back?'
+
+'He can't get away by the front. We couldn't save him--nobody could.
+I tell you they'll tear him to pieces.'
+
+As the sergeant spoke the Stranger came and stood at the door by the
+Secretary of State. A policeman rushed up the steps bearing something
+in his arms. He addressed the sergeant.
+
+'This child's dead. Sir William Braidwood says most of the bones in
+its body are broken; it's crushed nearly to a jelly. It doesn't seem
+to have had any friends or anything. Could you see it taken into the
+house?'
+
+The sergeant received the child. The Stranger said to him: 'Give it
+to Me.'
+
+'You? Why you? Let it be taken into the house and put decent.'
+
+'Give Me the child.'
+
+He took the child and pressed it to His bosom, and the child, opening
+its eyes, looked up at Him. He kissed it on the brow.
+
+'You have been asleep,' He said.
+
+The child sat up in His arms and laughed.
+
+The Archbishop whispered to the Cardinal:
+
+'The child lives!'
+
+The Stranger cried to those that were within the house:
+
+'I return whence I came. Come there to Me.'
+
+And a great hush fell on all the people, so that on a sudden they
+were still. And they fell back, so that a lane was formed in their
+midst, along which He went, with the child, laughing, in His arms.
+
+It was as if the people had been carved out of stone. They moved
+neither limb nor feature, nor seemed to breathe, but stayed in the
+uncouth attitudes in which they had been flung by passion, with their
+faces as rage had distorted them, their mouths open as they had
+vomited blasphemies, their eyes glaring, their fists clenched.
+
+Through the stricken people in the silent streets the Stranger went,
+the child laughing in His arms--on and on, on and on. Whither He
+went, no man knew. Nor has He been seen of any since, nor the child
+either.
+
+And when He had gone, a great sigh went over all the people. Behold,
+they wept!
+
+
+
+                            THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Second Coming, by Richard Marsh
+
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Second Coming, by Richard Marsh
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Second Coming
+
+Author: Richard Marsh
+
+Release Date: November 28, 2011 [EBook #38156]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SECOND COMING ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Note:<br>
+
+
+1. Page scan source:<br>
+http://books.google.com/books?id=RHYXAAAAYAAJ</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="center">Canvasback library of Popular Fiction. Volume IX</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="center">A Second Coming</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<table cellpadding="5" style="border:2px solid black; width:50%; margin-left:25%">
+<tr>
+<td><table style="border:2px solid black; width:98%; margin-left:1%">
+<tr>
+<td><br><br><h2><i>A SECOND COMING</i></h2>
+<br><br></td></tr></table></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>
+<table style="border:2px solid black; width:98%; margin-left:1%">
+<tr><td><br><br><h2><i>BY</i></h2></td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><h2>RICHARD MARSH</h2><br><br></td></tr></table></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td><table style="border:2px solid black; width:98%; margin-left:1%">
+<tr><td><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br></td></tr></table></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td><table style="border:2px solid black; width:98%; margin-left:1%">
+<tr><td><br><h3><i>JOHN LANE: THE BODLEY HEAD</i><br>
+<i>NEW YORK &amp; LONDON MCMIV</i></h3><br></td></tr></table></td>
+</tr></table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4>Copyright, 1900<br>
+By John Lane</h4>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<div style="margin-left:25%; margin-right:25%">
+<p class="normal">'If,' asked the Man in the Street, 'Christ were to come again to
+London, in this present year of grace, how would He be received, and
+what would happen?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I will try to show you,' replied the Scribe.</p>
+
+<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:40pt">* * * * *</p>
+
+<p class="normal">These following pages represent the Scribe's attempt to achieve the
+impossible.</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold">
+<colgroup><col style="width:10%; text-align:right"><col style="width:90%"></colgroup>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><h2><a name="div1Ref_tales" href="#div1_tales">I. THE TALES WHICH WERE TOLD</a></h2></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>CHAPTER</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>I.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">THE INTERRUPTED DINNER.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>II.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">THE WOMAN AND THE COATS.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>III.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">THE WORDS OF THE PREACHER.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>IV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">THE CHILDREN'S MOTHER.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>V.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">THE OPERATION.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>VI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">THE BLACKLEG.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>VII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">IN PICCADILLY.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>VIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">THE ONLY ONE THAT WAS LEFT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>IX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">THE FIRST DISCIPLE.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>X.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">THE DEPUTATION.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">THE SECOND DISCIPLE.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td><br><br></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2"><h2><a name="div1Ref_tumult" href="#div1_tumult">II. THE TUMULT WHICH AROSE</a></h2></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">THE CHARCOAL-BURNER.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">A TRIUMPHAL ENTRY.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XIV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">THE WORDS OF THE WISE.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">THE SUPPLICANT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XVI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">IN THE MORNING.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XVII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">THE MIRACLE OF HEALING.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XVIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">THE YOUNG MAN.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td><br><br></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2"><h2><a name="div1Ref_passion" href="#div1_passion">III. THE PASSION OF THE PEOPLE</a></h2></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XIX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">THE HUNT AND THE HOME.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">THEY THAT WOULD ASK WITH A THREAT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">THE ASKING.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">A SEMINARY PRIEST.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">AND THE CHILD.</a></td>
+</tr></table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>I</h1>
+
+<h1><a name="div1_tales" href="#div1Ref_tales">The Tales which were Told</a></h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>A Second Coming</h1>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">THE INTERRUPTED DINNER</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">He stood at the corner of the table with his hat and overcoat on,
+just as he had rushed into the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Christ has come again!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The servants were serving the entrees. Their breeding failed them.
+They stopped to stare at Chisholm. The guests stared too, those at
+the end leaning over the board to see him better. He looked like a
+man newly startled out of dreaming, blinking at the lights and
+glittering table array. His hat was a little on one side of his head.
+He was hot and short of breath, as if he had been running. They
+regarded him as a little bewildered, while he, on his part, looked
+back at them as if they were the creatures of a dream.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Christ has come again!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He repeated the words in a curious, tremulous, sobbing voice, which
+was wholly unlike his own.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Conversation had languished. Just before his entrance there had been
+one of those prolonged pauses which, to an ambitious hostess, are as
+a sound of doom. The dinner bade fair to be a failure. If people will
+not talk, to offer them to eat is vain. Criticism takes the place of
+appetite. Amplett looked, for him, bad-tempered. He was leaning back
+in his chair, smiling wryly at the wineglass which he was twiddling
+between his fingers. His wife, on the contrary, sat very upright--
+with her an ominous sign. She looked straight in front of her, with a
+tender softness in her glance which only to those who did not know
+her suggested paradise. Over the whole table there was an air of
+vague depression, an irresistible tendency to be bored.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Chisholm's unceremonious entry created a diversion. It filliped the
+atmosphere. Amplett's bad temper vanished on the instant.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Hollo, Hugh! thought you weren't coming. Sit down, man; in your coat
+and hat if you like, only do sit down!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Chisholm eyed him as if not quite certain that it was he who was
+being spoken to, or who the speaker was. There was that about his
+bearing which seemed to have a singular effect upon his host.
+Amplett, leaning farther over the table, called to him in short,
+sharp tones:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why do you stand and look like that? What's the matter?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Christ has come again!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As he repeated the words for the third time, there was in his voice a
+note of exultation which was in odd dissonance with what was
+generally believed to be his character. The self-possession for which
+he was renowned seemed to have wholly deserted him. Something seemed
+to have shaken his nature to its depths; he who was used to declare
+that life could offer nothing which was of interest to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">People glanced at each other, and at the strange-looking man at the
+end of the table. Was he mad or drunk? As if in answer to their
+glances he stretched out his hands a little in front of him, saying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is true! It is true! Christ has come again! I have come from His
+presence here to you!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Amplett's voice rang out sharply:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Hugh, what is the matter with you? Are you insane?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I was insane. Now I am wise. I know, for I have seen. I have been
+among the first to see.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was something in his manner which affected them strangely. A
+wildness, an exultation, an intensity! If it had not been so entirely
+out of keeping with the man's everyday disposition it might not have
+seemed so curious. But those who knew him best were moved most. They
+were aware that his nerves were not easily affected; that something
+extraordinary must have occurred to have produced this bearing.
+Clement Fordham rose from his chair and went to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come, Hugh, tell me what's wrong outside.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He made as if to slip his arm through Chisholm's, who would have none
+of it. He held Fordham off with hand extended.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Thank you, Fordham, but for the present I'll stay here. I am not
+mad, nor have I been drinking. I'm as sober and as sane as you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A voice came down the table, Bertie Vaughan's. In it there was a ring
+of laughter:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Tell us, Chisholm, what you've seen.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I will tell you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Chisholm removed his hat, as if suddenly remembering that he had it
+on. He rested the brim against the edge of the table, looking down
+the two rows of faces towards Amplett at the end. Mrs. Amplett
+interposed:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Hadn't you better sit down, Hugh, and have something to eat? The
+entrees are getting cold. Or you might tell your story after we've
+finished dinner. Hunger magnifies; wonders grow less when one has
+dined.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a chorus of dissentient voices.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No, no, Mrs. Amplett. Let him tell his story now.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I will tell it to you now.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The hostess gave way. Chisholm told his tale. He riveted his
+auditors' attention. The servants listened openly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I walked here. As you know, the night is fine, and I thought the
+stroll would do me good. As I was passing through Bryanston Square a
+man came round the corner on a bicycle. The road has recently been
+watered, and is still wet and greasy. His tyre must have skidded, or
+something, because he entirely lost control of his machine, and went
+dashing into the hydrant which stands by the kerb. He was moving
+pretty fast, and as it came into contact with the hydrant his machine
+was splintered, and he was pitched over the handle-bar heavily on to
+his head. He was some fifteen or twenty yards from where I was. I
+went to him as rapidly as I could, but by the time I reached him he
+was already dead.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Dead!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The word came in a sort of chorus from half a dozen throats.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Dead,' repeated Chisholm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you sure that he was dead?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The question came from Amplett.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Certain. He was a very unpleasant sight. He must have fallen with
+more violence even than I had supposed. His skull was shattered. He
+must have come down on it on the hard road, and then twisted over on
+to his back. He was a big, heavy man, and the wrench which he had
+given himself in rolling over had broken his neck. I was so
+astonished to find him dead, and at the spectacle which he presented,
+that for a second or two I was at a loss as to what steps I ought to
+take. No other person was in the square, and, so far as I could
+judge, the accident had not been witnessed from either of the
+windows. While I hesitated, on a sudden I was conscious that someone
+was at my side.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He stopped as if to take breath. There came a rain of questions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Someone? What do you mean by someone?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I will try and tell you exactly what I saw. It is not easy. I am yet
+too near--fresh from the Presence.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He clasped his hands a little more tightly on the brim of his hat,
+then closed his eyes for a second or two, opening them to look
+straight down the table, as if endeavouring to bring well within the
+focus of his vision something which was there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I was looking down at the dead man as he lay there in an ugly heap,
+conscious that I was due for dinner, and wondering what steps I ought
+to take. I felt no interest in him--none whatever; neither his living
+nor his dying was anything to me. My chief feeling was one of
+annoyance that he should have chosen that moment to fall dead right
+in my path; it was an unwarrantable intrusion of his affairs into
+mine. As I stood, I knew that someone was on his other side, looking
+down at him with me. And I was afraid--yes, I was afraid.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The speaker had turned pale--the pallor of fear had come upon the
+cheeks of the man whose imperturbable courage had been proved a
+hundred times. His voice sank lower.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'For some moments I continued with eyes cast down; I did not dare to
+look up. At last, when my pulse grew a little calmer, I ventured to
+raise my eyes. On the other side of the dead bicyclist was one who
+was in the figure of a man. I knew that it was Christ.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He spoke with an accent of intense conviction, the like of which his
+hearers had never heard from the lips of anyone before. It was as
+though Chisholm spoke with the faith which can move mountains. Those
+who listened were perforce dumb.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'His glance met mine. I knew myself to be the thing I was. I was
+ashamed. He pointed to the body lying in the roadway, saying: &quot;Your
+brother sleeps?&quot; I could not answer. Seeing that I was silent, He
+spoke again: &quot;Are you not of one spirit and of one flesh? I come to
+wake your brother out of slumber.&quot; He inclined His hand towards the
+dead man, saying: &quot;Arise, you who sleep.&quot; Immediately he that was
+dead stood up. He seemed bewildered, and exclaimed as in a fit of
+passion: &quot;That's a nice spill. Curse the infernal slippery road!&quot;
+Then he turned and saw Who was standing at his side. As he did so, he
+burst into a storm of tears, crying like a child; and when he cried,
+He that had been there was not. The bicyclist and I were alone
+together.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A pause followed Chisholm's words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And then what happened?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The query came from Mrs. Amplett.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nothing happened. I hurried off as fast as I could, for I was still
+afraid, and left the bicyclist sobbing in the roadway.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was another interval of silence, until Gregory Hawkes, putting
+his eyeglass in its place, fixedly regarded Chisholm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are we to accept this as a sober narrative of actual fact,
+or--where's the joke?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have told you the truth. Christ has come again!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Christ in Bryanston Square!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Hawkes's tone was satirical.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yes, Christ in Bryanston Square. Why not in Bryanston Square if on
+the hill of Calvary? Is not this His own city?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'His own city!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again there was the satiric touch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One of the servants, dropping a dish, began to excuse himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Pardon me, sir, but I'm a Seventh-Day Christian, and I've been
+looking for the Second Coming these three years now, and more.
+Hearing from Mr. Chisholm that it's come at last has made me feel a
+little nervous.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Amplett turned to the butler.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Goss, let the servants leave the room.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They went, as if they bore their tails between their legs, some with
+the entrée dishes still in their hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I wish,' murmured Bertie Vaughan,' that this little incident could
+have been conveniently postponed till after we had dined.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Arthur Warton, of St. Ethelburga's, showed signs of disapprobation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I believe that I am as broad-minded a priest as you will easily
+find, but there are seasons at which certain topics should not be
+touched upon. Without wishing in any way to thrust forward my
+clerical office, I would point out to Mr. Chisholm that this
+assuredly is one.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is there then a season at which Christ should not come again?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mr. Chisholm!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Or in which He should not restore the dead to life?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I should not wish to disturb the harmony of the gathering,
+Mr. Amplett, but I am afraid the--eh--circumstances are
+not--eh--fortuitous. I cannot sit here and allow my sacred office to
+be mocked.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mocked! Is it to mock your sacred office to spread abroad the news
+that He has come again? I am fresh from His presence, and tell you
+so--you that claim to be His priest.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fordham, who had been standing by him all the time, came a little
+closer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come, Hugh, let's get out of this, you and I, and talk over things
+quietly together.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again Chisholm kept him from him with his outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In your tone, Fordham, more even than in your words, there
+is suggestion. Of what? that I am mad? You have known me
+all my life. Have I struck you as being of the stuff which
+makes for madness? As a victim of hysteria? As a subject of
+hallucinations? As a liar? I am as sane as you, as clear-headed, as
+matter-of-fact, as truthful. I tell you, in very truth and very deed,
+that to-night I have seen Christ hard by here in the square.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My dear fellow, these people have come here to dine.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is, then, dinner more than Christ?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Smiling his easy, tolerant smile, Fordham touched Chisholm lightly
+with his fingers on the arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My very dear old chap, this sort of thing is so awfully unlike you,
+don't you know?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You, also, will be changed when you have seen Christ. Fordham, I
+have seen Christ!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The intensity of his utterance seemed to strike his hearers a blow.
+The women shivered, turning pale--even those who were painted. Mr.
+Warton leaned across the table towards Mrs. Amplett.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I really think that you ladies had better retire. Our friend seems
+to be in a curious mood.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The hostess nodded. She rose from her seat, looking very queerly at
+Mr. Chisholm, for whom her penchant is well known. The other women
+followed her example. The rustling concourse fluttered from the room,
+the Incumbent of St. Ethelburga holding the door open to let them
+pass, and himself bringing up the rear. The laymen were left alone
+together, Chisholm and Fordham standing at the head of the table
+with, on their faces, such very different expressions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The host seemed snappish.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You see what you've done? I offer you my congratulations, Mr.
+Chisholm. I don't know if you call the sort of thing with which you
+have been favouring us good form.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is good form more than Christ?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Amplett made an impatient sound with his lips. He stood up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Upon my word of honour, Mr. Chisholm, you must be either drunk or
+mad. I trust, for your own sake, that you are merely mad. Come,
+gentlemen, let's join the ladies.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The men quitted the room in a body. Only Clement Fordham stayed with
+his friend. Chisholm watched them as they went. Then, when the last
+had gone and the door was closed, he turned to his companion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yet it is the truth that this night I have seen Christ!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The other laughed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then, in that case, let's hope that you won't see much more of Him--
+no impiety intended, I assure you. Now let you and me take our two
+selves away.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He slipped his arm through his friend's. As they were about to move,
+the door opened and a servant entered. It was the man who had dropped
+the dish. He approached Chisholm with stuttering tongue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Pardon me, sir, if I seem to take a liberty, but might I ask if the
+Second Coming has really come at last? As a Seventh-Day Christian
+it's a subject in which I take an interest, and the fact is that
+there's a difference of opinion between my wife and me as to whether
+it's to be this year or next.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man bore ignorance on his countenance written large, and worse.
+Hugh Chisholm turned from him with repugnance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He's your brother,' whispered Fordham in his ear, as they moved
+towards the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The expression of Hugh Chisholm's face was stern.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">THE WOMAN AND THE COATS</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis looked about him with bloodshot eyes. His battered bowler
+was perched rakishly on the back of his head, and his hands were
+thrust deep into his trousers pockets. He did not seem to find the
+aspect of the room enlivening. His wife, standing at a small oblong
+deal table, was making a parcel of two black coats to which she had
+just been giving the finishing stitches. The man, the woman, the
+table, and the coats, practically represented the entire contents of
+the apartment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The fact appeared to cause Mr. Davis no slight dissatisfaction. His
+bearing, his looks, his voice, all betrayed it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I want some money,' he observed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then you'll have to want,' returned his wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Ain't you got none?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No, nor shan't have, not till I've took these two coats in.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then what'll it be?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You know very well what it'll be--three-and-six--one-and-nine
+apiece--if there ain't no fines.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And this is what they call the land of liberty, the 'ome of the
+free, where people slave and slave--for one-and-nine.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis seemed conscious that the conclusion of his sentence was
+slightly impotent, and spat on the floor as if to signify his regret.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">''Tain't much slaving you do, anyhow.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No, nor it ain't much I'm likely to do; I'm no servile wretch; I'm
+free-born.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Prefers to make your living off me, you do.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Well, and why not? Ain't woman the inferior animal? Didn't Nature
+mean it to be her pride to minister to man? Ain't it only the false
+veneer of a rotten civilization what's upset all that? If I gives my
+talents for the good of the species, as I do do, as is well known I
+do do, ain't it only right that you should give me something in
+return, if it's only a crust and water? Ain't that law and justice--
+natural law, mind you, and natural justice?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't know nothing about law, natural or otherwise, but I do know
+it ain't justice.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis looked at his wife, more in sorrow than in anger. He was
+silent for some seconds, as if meditating on the peculiar baseness of
+human nature. When he spoke there was a whine in his raucous voice,
+which was, perhaps, meant to denote his consciousness of how much he
+stood in need of sympathy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'm sorry, Matilda, to hear you talk to me like that, because it
+forces me to do something what I shouldn't otherwise have done. Give
+me them coats.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had just finished packing up the coats in the linen wrapper, and
+was pinning up one end. Snatching up the parcel, she clasped it to
+her bosom as if it had been some precious thing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No, Tommy, not the coats!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Matilda, once more I ask you to give me them coats.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What do you want them for?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Once more, Matilda, I ask you to give me them coats.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No, Tommy, that I won't--never! not if you was to kill me! You know
+what happened the last time, and all I had to go through; and you
+promised you'd never do it again, and you shan't, not while I can
+help it--no, that you shan't!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Clasping the parcel tightly to her, she drew back towards a corner of
+the room, like some wild creature standing at bay. Mr. Davis,
+advancing towards the table, leaned on it, addressing her as if he
+desired to impress her with the fact that he was endeavouring not to
+allow his feelings to get the better of his judgment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Listen to me, Matilda. I'm soft and tender, as well you know, and
+should therefore regret having to start knocking you about; but want
+is want, and I want 'arf a sovereign this day, and have it I must.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What do you want it for?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis brought his clenched fist sharply down upon the
+table--possibly by way of a hint.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Never you mind what I want it for. I do want it, and that's enough
+for you. You trouble yourself with your own affairs, and don't poke
+your nose into mine, my girl; you'll find it safest.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'll try to get it for you, Tommy.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis was scornful.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, you will, will you! How are you going to set about getting 'arf
+a sovereign? Perhaps you'll be so good as to let me know. Because if
+you can lay hands on 'arf a sovereign whenever one's wanted, it's a
+trick worth knowing. You're such a clever one at getting 'old of the
+pieces, you are, and always have been.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man's irony seemed to cause the woman to wince. She drew a little
+farther back towards her corner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't rightly know how I shall get hold of it, not just now, I
+don't; but I daresay I shall manage somehow.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, you do, do you? Shall I tell you how you'll manage? You listen
+to me. You'll go to them there slave-drivers with them two coats, and
+they'll keep you waiting for two mortal hours or more. Then they'll
+dock sixpence for fines--you're always getting fined; you 'ardly ever
+take anything in without you're fined; you're a slovenly workwoman,
+that's what you are, my lass, and that's the truth!--you'll come away
+with three bob, and spend 'arf a crown on rent, or some such silly
+nonsense; and then when it comes to me, you'll start snivelling, and
+act the crybaby, and I shall have to treat you to a kicking, and find
+myself further off my 'arf sovereign than ever I was. I don't want no
+more of your nonsense. Give me them two coats!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You'll pawn 'em if I do.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Of course I'll pawn 'em. What do you suppose I'm going to do with
+them--eat 'em, or give them to the Queen?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You'll get me into trouble again! They're due in to-day. You know
+what happened last time. If they lock me up again, I'll be sent
+away.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then be sent away, and be 'anged to you for a nasty, mean,
+snivelling cat! Why don't you earn enough to keep your 'usband like a
+gentleman? If you don't, it's your fault, isn't it? Give me them two
+coats!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No, Tommy, I won't!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He went closer to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'For the last time; will you give me them two coats?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She hugged the parcel closer, and she closed her eyes, so that she
+should not see him strike her. He hit her once, twice, thrice,
+choosing his mark with care and discretion. Under the first two blows
+she reeled; the last sent her in a heap to the floor. When she was
+down he kicked her in a business-like, methodical fashion, then
+picked up the parcel which had fallen from her grasp.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You've brought it on yourself, as you very well know. It's the kind
+of thing I don't care to have to do. I'm not like some, what's always
+spoiling to knock their wives about; but when I do have to do it,
+there's no one does it more thorough, I will say that.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He left her lying in a heap on the boards. On his way to the
+pawnbroker's he encountered a friend, Joe Cooke. Mr. Cooke stopped
+and hailed him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What yer, Tommy! Are you coming along with us to-night on that there
+little razzle?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Of course I am. Didn't I say I was? And when I say I'm coming, don't
+I always come?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'All right, old coxybird! Keep your 'air on! No one said you didn't.
+Got the rhino?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have. Leastways, I soon shall have, when I've turned this little
+lot into coin of the realm.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He pointed to the bundle which he bore beneath his arm. Mr. Cooke
+grinned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What yer got there?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I've got a couple of coats what my wife's been wearing out her eyes
+on for a set of slave-driving sweaters. Three-and-six they was to pay
+her for them. I rather reckon that I'll get more than three-and-six
+for them, unless I'm wrong. And when I have melted 'em, Joe, I don't
+mind if I do you a wet.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Joe did not mind, either. The two fell in side by side. Mr. Cooke
+drew his hand across his mouth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Ever since my old woman died I've felt I ought to have
+another--a good one, mind you. There's nothing like having someone to
+whom you can turn for a bob or so.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's more than a bob or so I get out of my old woman, you may take
+my word. If she don't keep me like a gentleman, she hears of it.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Cooke regarded his friend with genuine admiration.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Ah! but we're not all so fly as you, Tommy, nor yet so lucky.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Perhaps not--not, mind you, that that's owing to any fault of yours.
+It's as we're made.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis, with the bundle under his arm, bore himself with an air of
+modest pride, as one who appreciated his natural advantages.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They reached the pawnbroker's. The entrance to the pledge department
+was in a little alley leading off the main street. As Mr. Davis stood
+at the mouth of this alley to say a parting word to his friend as a
+prelude to the important business of the pledging, someone touched
+him on the arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A voice accosted him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is it that you would do?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis spun round like a teetotum. He stared at the Stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Hollo, matey! Who are you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am He that you know not of.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis drew a little back, as if a trifle disconcerted. His voice
+was huskier than even it was wont to be.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What's the little game?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I bid you tell me what is this thing that you would do?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis seemed to find in the words, which were quietly uttered, a
+compelling influence which made him curiously frank.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am going to pawn these here two coats which my wife's been
+making.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is it well?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis slunk farther from the Stranger. 'What's it got to do with
+you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is it well?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a sorrowful intonation in the repetition of the inquiry,
+blended with a singularly penetrant sternness. Mr. Davis cowered as
+if he had been struck a blow. He turned to his friend.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Say, Joe, who is this bloke?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger spoke to Mr. Cooke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Look on Me, and you shall know.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Cooke looked--and knew. He began to tremble as if he would have
+fallen to the ground. Mr. Davis, noting his friend's condition,
+became uneasy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Say, Joe, what's the matter with you? What's he done to you, Joe?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Cooke was silent. The Stranger answered:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Would that that which has been done to him could be done to you, and
+to all this city! But you are of those that cannot know, for in them
+is no knowledge. Yet return to your wife, and make your peace with
+her, lest worse befall.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis began to slink out of the alley, with furtive air and face
+carefully averted from the Stranger. As he reached the pavement, a
+big man, with a scarlet handkerchief twisted round his neck, caught
+him by the shoulder. The big man's speech was flavoured with
+adjectives.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why, Tommy! what's up with you? You look as if you was just
+a-going to see Jack Ketch.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then came the flood of adjectives to give the sentence balance. Mr.
+Davis tried to wriggle from his questioner's too strenuous grip.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Let me go, Pug--let me go!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What for? What's wrong? Who's been doing something to yer?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Davis made a movement of his head towards the Stranger. He spoke
+in a husky whisper.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That bloke--over there.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The big man dragged the unwilling Mr. Davis forward.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What's my friend been doing to you, and what have you been doing to
+him?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was the usual adjectival torrent. The Stranger replied to the
+inquiry with another.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why are you so unclean of mouth? Is it because you are unclean of
+heart, or because you do not know what the things are which you
+utter?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The retorted question seemed to take the big man aback. His manner
+became still more blusterous:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't want none of your lip, and I won't have any, and you can
+take that from me! I don't know what kind of a Gospel-pitcher you
+are; but if you think because preaching's your lay that you can come
+it over me, I'll just show you can't by knocking the head right off
+yer.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What big things the little say!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The retort seemed to goad Mr. Davis's friend to a state of
+considerable excitement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Little, am I? I'll show you! I'll learn you! I'll give you a lesson
+free gratis, and for nothing now, right straight off.' He began to
+tear off his cap and coat. 'Here, some of you chaps, catch hold while
+I'm a-showing him!' As he turned up his shirtsleeves, he addressed
+the crowd which had gathered: 'These blokes come to us, and because
+we're poor they think they can treat us as if we was dirt, and come
+the pa and ma game over us as if we was a lot of kids. I've had
+enough of it--in fact, I've had too much. For the future I mean to
+set about every one of them as tries to come it over me. Now, then,
+my bloke, put up your dooks or eat your words. Don't think you're
+going to get out of it by standing still, because if you don't beg
+pardon for what you said to me just now I'll----'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man, who was by profession a pugilist, advanced towards the
+Stranger in professional style. The Stranger raised His right hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Stay! and let your arm be withered. Better lose your arm than all
+that you have.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Before the eyes of those who were standing by the man's arm began to
+dwindle till there was nothing protruding from the shirtsleeve which
+he had rolled up to his shoulder but a withered stump. The man stood
+as if rooted to the ground, the expression of his countenance so
+changed as to amount to complete transfiguration. The crowd was still
+until a voice inquired of the Stranger:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who are you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger pointed to the man whose arm was withered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Can you not see? The world still looks for a sign.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were murmurs among the people.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He's a conjurer!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The bloke's a mesmerist, that's what he is!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He's one of those hanky-panky coves!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am none of these things. I come from a city not built of hands to
+this city of man's glory and his shame to bring to you a message--no
+new thing, but that old one which the world has forgotten.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What's the message, Guv'nor?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Those who see Me and know Me will know what is My message; those who
+know Me not, neither will they know My message.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Cooke fell on his knees on the pavement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, Guv'nor, what shall I do?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Cease to weep; there are more than enough tears already.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'm only a silly fool, Guv'nor; tell me what I ought to do.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Do well; be clean; judge no one.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A woman came hurrying through the crowd. It was Mrs. Davis. At sight
+of her husband she burst into exclamations:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, Tommy, have you pawned them?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No, Matilda, I haven't, and I'm not going to, neither.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Thank God!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She threw her arms about her husband's neck and kissed him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is good hearing,' said the Stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The people's attention had been diverted by Mrs. Davis's appearance.
+When they turned again to look for the Stranger He was gone.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">THE WORDS OF THE PREACHER</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">'They say that the Jews do not look forward to the rebuilding of
+their Holy City of Jerusalem, to their return to the Promised Land.
+They say that we Christians do not look forward to the Second Coming
+of Christ. As to the indictment against the Chosen People, we will
+not pronounce: we are not Jews. But as to the charge against us
+Christians, there we are on firmer ground. We can speak, and we must.
+My answer is, It's a lie. We do look forward to His Second Coming. We
+watch and wait for it. It is the subject of our constant prayers. We
+have His promise, in words which cannot fail. The whole fabric of our
+faith is built upon our assurance of His return. If the delay seems
+long, it is because, in His sight, a thousand years are as a day. Who
+are we to time His movements, and fix the hour of His coming so that
+it may fall in with our convenience? We know that He will come, in
+His own time, in His own way. He will forgive us if we strain our
+eyes eastward, watching for the first rays of the dawn to gild the
+mountains and the plains, and herald the glory of His advent. But
+beyond that His will, not ours, be done. We know, O Lord Christ, Thou
+wilt return when it seems well in Thy sight.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Rev. Philip Evans was a short, somewhat sturdily built man, who
+was a little too heavy for his height. His dress was, to all intents
+and purposes, that of a layman, though something about the colour and
+cut of the several garments suggested the dissenting minister of a
+certain modern type. He was a hairy man; his brown hair, beard, and
+whiskers were just beginning to be touched with gray. He wore
+spectacles, big round glasses, set in bright steel frames. He had a
+trick of snatching at them with his left hand every now and then, as
+if to twitch them straight upon his nose. He was not an orator, but
+was something of a rhetorician. He had the gift of the gab, and the
+present-day knack of treating what are supposed to be sacred subjects
+in secular fashion--of 'bringing them down,' as he himself described
+it, 'to the intelligence' of his hearers, apparently unconscious of
+the truth that what he supposed to be their standard of intelligence
+was, in fact, his own.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was about his manner, methods, gestures, voice, a species of
+nervous force, the product of restlessness rather than vitality,
+which attracted the sort of persons to whom he specially appealed,
+when they had nothing better to do, and held them, if not so
+firmly as the music-hall and theatrical performances which they
+preferentially patronised, still, with a sufficient share of
+interest. The band and the choir had something to do with the
+success which attended his labours. But, after all, these were merely
+side-shows. Indubitably the chief attraction was the man himself, and
+the air of brightness and 'go' which his personality lent to the
+proceedings. One never knew what would be the next thing he would say
+or do.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That Sunday evening the great hall was thronged. It nearly always
+was. In the great thoroughfare without the people passed continually
+to and fro, a motley crowd, mostly in pursuit of mischief. All sorts
+and conditions of persons, as they neared the entrance, would come
+in, if only to rest for a few minutes, and listen by the way, and
+look on. There was a constant coming and going. Philip Evans was one
+of the sights of town, not the least of its notorieties; and those
+very individuals against whom his diatribes were principally directed
+found, upon occasion, a moderate degree of entertainment in listening
+to examples of his comminatory thunders.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The subject of his evening's discourse had been announced as 'The
+Second Coming: Is it Fact or Dream?' He had chosen as his text the
+eleventh verse of the third chapter of St. John's Revelation:
+'Behold, I come quickly; hold fast that which thou hast, that no man
+take thy crown.' He had pointed out to his audience that these words
+were full of suggestion, even apart from their context; pre-eminently
+so in connection with it. They had in them, he maintained, Christ's
+own promise that He would return to the world in which He had endured
+so much disappointment and suffering, such ignominy and such shame.
+He supported his assertion by the usual cross references to Biblical
+passages, construing them to suit his arguments by the dogmatic
+methods with which custom has made us familiar.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If there is one thing sure, it is the word of Jesus Christ; if there
+is one thing Christ has promised us, it is that He will return. If we
+believe that He came once, we must believe that He will come again.
+We have no option, unless we make out Christ to be a liar. There was
+no meaning in his First Coming unless it is His intention to return.
+The work He began has to be finished. If you deny a personal Christ,
+then you are at least logical in regarding His whole story as
+allegorical, the story that He was and will be; in which case may He
+help you, and open your eyes that you may see. But if you are a
+Christian, it is because you believe in Christ, the living Christ,
+the very Christ, the Christ made man, that was and will be. Your
+faith, our faith, is not a symbol, it's a fact. It's a solid thing,
+not the distillation of a dream. We believe that Jesus Christ was
+like unto us, hungry as we are, and athirst; that He felt as we feel,
+knew our joys and sorrows, our trials and temptations. He came to us
+once, that is certain. To attempt to whittle away that fact is to
+make of our Christianity a laughing-stock, and our plight most
+lamentable. Better for us, a thousand, thousand times, that we had
+never been born! But He came--we know He came! And, knowing that, we
+know that we have His promise that He will come again, and rejoice!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Of the time and manner of His Second Coming there is none mortal
+that may certainly speak. To pretend to speak on the subject with
+special insight or knowledge would be intolerable presumption--worse,
+akin to blasphemy! Thy will, not ours, be done. We only stand and
+wait. In Thy hand, Lord God, is the issue. We know it, and give
+thanks. But while recognising our inability to probe into the
+workings of the Most High, I think we may be excused if we make
+certain reflections on the theme which to us, as Christians, is of
+such vital moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'First, as to the time. Knowing nothing, we do know this, that it may
+be at any instant of any hour of any day. The Lord Jesus Christ may
+be speeding to us now. He may be in our midst even while I speak. Why
+not? We know that He was in a certain synagogue while service was
+taking place, without any there having had the slightest warning of
+His intended presence. What He did then can He not do now? And will
+He not? Who shall say?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'For, as to the manner, we can at least venture to say this, that we
+know not, with any sort of certainty, what the manner of His coming
+will be. The dark passages of the Scripture are dark perhaps of
+intention, and, maybe, will continue obscure, until in the fulness of
+time all things are made plain. There are those who affirm that He
+will come with pomp and power, in the fulness of His power, as a
+conquering king, with legions of angels, to be the Judge of all the
+earth. To me it appears that those who say this go further than the
+evidence before us warrants. And it may be observed that precisely
+the same views were held by a large section of the Jews in the year
+of our Lord. They thought that He would come in the splendour of His
+majesty. And because He did not, they hung Him on the tree. Let us
+not stand in peril of the same mistake. As He came before, in the
+simple garb of a simple man, may He not come in that same form again?
+Why not? Who are we that we should answer? I adjure you, in His most
+holy Name, to keep on this matter an open mind, lest we be guilty of
+the same sin as those purblind Jews.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What we have to do is to know Him when He does come. The notion that
+we shall be sure to do so seems to me to be born of delusion. Did the
+Jews know Him when He came before? No! Why? Because He was a
+contradiction of all their preconceived ideas. They expected one
+thing, and found another. They looked for a king in his glittering
+robes; and, instead, there was a Man who had not where to lay His
+head. There is the crux of the matter; because He was so like
+themselves, they did not know Him for what He was. The difference was
+spiritual, whereas they expected it to be material. The tendency of
+the world is now, as it was then, to look at the material side. Let
+us be careful that we are not deceived. It is by the spirit we shall
+know Him when He comes!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The words had been rapidly spoken, and the preacher paused at this
+point, perhaps to take breath, or perhaps to collect his thoughts
+prior to diverting the current of his discourse into a slightly
+different channel. At any rate, there was a distinct pause in the
+flow of language. While it continued, Someone stood up in the body of
+the hall, and a Voice inquired:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who shall know Him when He comes?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The question was clearly audible all over the building. It was by no
+means unusual, in that place, for incidents to occur which were not
+in accordance with the programme. Interruptions were not infrequent.
+Both preacher and people were used to them. By a considerable part of
+the audience such interludes were regarded as not the least
+interesting portion of the proceedings. To the fashion in which he
+was wont to deal with such incidents the Rev. Philip Evans owed, in
+no slight degree, his vogue. It was his habit to lose neither his
+presence of mind nor his temper. He was, after his manner, a fighter
+born. Seldom did he show to more advantage than in dealing out
+cut-and-thrust to a rash intervener.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the Voice asking the question rose from the body of the hall,
+there were those who at once concluded that such an intervention had
+occurred. For the instant, the movement in and out of the doors
+ceased. Heads were craned forward, and eyes and ears strained to lose
+nothing of what was about to happen. Mr. Evans, to whom the question
+seemed addressed, appeared to be no whit taken by surprise. His
+retort was prompt:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, pray God that you may know Him when He comes.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Voice replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I shall know as I shall be known. But who is there shall know Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Speaker moved towards the platform, threading His way between the
+crowded rows of seats with an ease and a celerity which seemed
+strange. None endeavoured to stop Him. Philip Evans remained silent
+and motionless, watching Him as He came.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the Stranger had gained the platform, He turned towards the
+people, asking:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who is there here that knows Me? Is there one?' There was not one
+that answered. He turned to the preacher. 'Look at Me well. Do you
+not know Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For once in a way Philip Evans seemed uncomfortable and ill at ease
+and abashed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'How shall I know you, since you are to me a stranger?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And yet you have looked for My coming?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your coming? Who are you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Look at Me well. Is there nothing by which you may know Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I may have seen you before; but, if so, I have certainly forgotten
+it, which is the more strange, since your face is an unusual one.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, you Christians, that preach of what you have no knowledge, and
+lay down the law of which you have no understanding!' He turned to
+the people. 'You followers of Christ, that never knew Him, and never
+shall, and would not if you could, yet make a boast of His name, and
+blazon it upon your foreheads, crying, Behold His children! You call
+upon Him in the morning and at night, careless if He listen, and
+fearful lest He hear; saying, with your lips, &quot;We look for His
+coming&quot;; and, with your hearts, &quot;Send it not in our time.&quot; It is by
+the spirit you shall know Him. Yes, of a truth. Is there not one
+among you in whom the spirit is? Is there not one?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger stood with His arms extended in front of Him, in an
+attitude of appeal. The hush of a perfect silence reigned in the
+great hall. Every countenance was turned to Him, but so far as could
+be seen, not a muscle moved. The predominant expression upon the
+expanse of faces was astonishment, mingled with curiosity. His arms
+sank to His sides.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He came unto His own, and His own knew Him not!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The words fell from His lips in tones of infinite pathos. He passed
+from the platform through the hall, and out of the door, followed by
+the eyes of all who were there, none seeking to stay Him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When He had gone, one of the persons who were associated with the
+conduct of the service went up to Mr. Evans. A few whispered words
+were exchanged between them. Then this person, going to the edge of
+the platform, announced:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'After what has just occurred, I regret to have to inform you that
+Mr. Evans feels himself unable to continue his address. He trusts to
+be able, God willing, to bring it to a close on a more auspicious
+occasion. This evening's service will be brought to a conclusion by
+singing the hymn &quot;Lo, He comes, in clouds descending!&quot;'</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">THE CHILDREN'S MOTHER</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">'You've had your pennyworth.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, Charlie, I haven't! you must send me higher. You mustn't stop;
+I've only just begun to swing.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I shall stop; it's my turn. You'd keep on for ever.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The boy drew to one side. The swing began to slow. Doris grew
+indignant. She endeavoured to swing herself, wriggling on the seat,
+twisting herself in various attitudes. The result was failure. The
+swing moved slower. She tried a final appeal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, Charlie, I do think you might push me just a little longer; it's
+not fair. You said you'd give me a good one. Then I'll give you a
+splendid swing.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You've had a good one. You'd keep on for ever, you would. Get off!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The swing stopped dead. The girl made a vain attempt to give it
+momentum.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's beastly of you,' she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She scrambled to the ground. The boy got on. He was not content to
+sit; he stood upright.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Now, then,' he cried, 'why don't you start me? Don't you see I'm
+ready?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You'll tumble off. Mamma said you weren't to stand.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Shall stand. Go and tell! Start me!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You will tumble.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'All right, then, I will tumble. Start me! Don't you hear?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She 'started' him. The swing having received its initial impetus, he
+swung himself. He mounted higher and higher. Doris watched him,
+leaning her right shoulder against the beech tree, her hands behind
+her back. She interpolated occasional remarks on the risk which he
+was running.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You'll fall if you don't take care. You oughtn't to go so high.
+Mamma said you oughtn't to go so high.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He received her observations with scorn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Just as though I will fall! How silly you are! You will keep on!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As he spoke, one of the ropes gave way. The other rope swerving, he
+was dashed against an upright. He fell to the ground. The thing was
+the work of an instant. He was ascending jubilantly towards the sky:
+the same second he was lying on the ground. Doris did not realise
+what had happened. She had been envying him the ease with which he
+swung himself, the height of his ascent. She did not understand why
+he had stopped so suddenly. She perceived how still he seemed, half
+wondering.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Charlie!' His silence frightened her. Her voice sank. 'Charlie!' She
+became angry. 'Why don't you answer me?' She moved closer to him,
+observing in what an ugly heap he lay. 'Charlie!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet he vouchsafed her no reply. He lay so still. It was such an
+unusual thing for Charlie to be still, the strangeness of it began to
+get upon her nerves. Her face clouded. She was making ready to rush
+off and alarm the house in an agony of weeping. Already she was
+starting, when Someone came to her from across the lawn, and laid His
+hand upon her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Doris, what is wrong?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The voice was a stranger's, and the presence. But she paid no heed to
+that: all her thoughts were concentrated on a single theme.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Charlie!' she gasped.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What ails Charlie?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger, kneeling beside the silent boy, bent over him, gently
+turning him so that He could see his face. Then, raising him from the
+ground, gathering him in His arms, He held him to His breast; and,
+stooping, He whispered in his ear:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Wake up, Charlie! Doris wants you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the boy sat up, and looked in the face of Him in whose arms he
+was.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Hollo!' he said. 'Who are you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The friend of little children.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was an appreciable space of time before the answer came, and
+when it did come it was accompanied by a smile, as the Stranger
+looked the boy straight in the eyes. The boy laughed outright.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I like the look of you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Doris drew a little nearer. She had her fingers to her lips, seeming
+more than half afraid.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Charlie, I thought you were hurt.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Hurt!' he flashed at her; then back at the Stranger: 'I'm not hurt,
+am I?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No, you are not hurt; you are well, and whole, and strong.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But you tumbled from the swing.' The boy stared at Doris as if he
+thought she must be dreaming. 'The swing broke.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Broke?' Glancing up, he perceived the severed rope. 'Why, so it
+has.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It can soon be mended.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger put the boy down, and went to the swing, and
+in a moment the two ends of the rope were joined together.
+Then He lifted them both on the seat, the boy and the girl together--
+there was ample room for both--and swung them gently to and fro. And
+as He swung He talked to them, and they to Him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And when they had had enough of swinging He went with them, hand in
+hand, and sat with them on the grass by the side of the lake, with
+the trees at their back. And again He talked to them, and they to
+Him. And the simple things of which He spoke seemed strange to them,
+and wonderful. Never had anyone talked to them like that before. They
+kept as close to Him as they could, and put their arms about Him so
+far as they were able, and nestled their faces against His side, and
+they were happy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While the Stranger and the children still conversed together there
+came down through the woods, towards the lake, a lady and a
+gentleman. He was a tall man, and held himself very straight,
+speaking as if he were very much in earnest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Doris, why should we keep on pretending to each other? I know that
+you love me, and you know that I love you. Why should you spoil your
+life--and mine!--for the sake of such a hound?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He is my husband.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She spoke a little below her breath, as if she were ashamed of the
+fact. He struck impatiently at the bracken with his stick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your husband! That creature! As though it were not profanation to
+link you with such an animal.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And then there are the children.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her voice sank lower, as if this time she spoke of something sacred.
+He noted the difference in the intonation; apparently he resented it.
+He struck more vigorously at the bracken, as if actuated by a desire
+to relieve his feelings. There was an interval, during which both of
+them were silent. Then he turned to her with sudden passion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Doris, come with me, at once! now! Give yourself to me, and I'll
+devote my whole life to you. You've known enough of me through all
+these things to be sure that you can trust me. Aren't you sure that
+you can trust me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yes, I am sure that I can trust you--in a sense.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something in her face seemed to make an irresistible appeal to him.
+He took her in his arms, she offering no resistance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In a sense? In what sense? Can't you trust me in every sense?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I can trust you to be true to me; but I am not so sure that I can
+trust you to let me be true to myself.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What hair-splitting's this? I'll let you be true to your own
+womanhood; it's you who shirk. You seem to want me to treat you as if
+you were an automatic figure, not a creature of flesh and blood. I
+can't do it--you can't trust me to do it; that thing's plain. Come,
+darling, let's take the future in our own hands, and together wrest
+happiness from life. You know that at my side you'll be content. See
+how you're trembling! There's proof of it. I'll swear I'll be content
+at yours! Come, Doris, come!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Where will you take me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's not your affair just now. I'll take you where I will. All you
+have to do is--come.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She drew herself out of his arms, and a little away from him. She put
+up her hand as if to smooth her hair, he watching her with eager
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'll come.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He took her again in his embrace, softly, tenderly, as if she were
+some fragile, priceless thing. His voice trembled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You darling! When?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Now. Since all's over, and everything's to begin again, the sooner a
+beginning's made the better.' A sort of rage came into her voice--a
+note of hysteric pain. 'If you're to take me, take me as I am, in
+what I stand. I dare say he'll send my clothes on after me--and my
+jewels, perhaps.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It seemed as if her tone troubled him, as if he endeavoured to soothe
+her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Don't talk like that, Doris. Everything that you want I'll get you--
+all that your heart can desire.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Except peace of mind!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I trust that I shall be able to get you even that. Only come!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Don't I tell you that I am ready? Why don't you start?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He appeared to find her manner disconcerting. He searched her face,
+as if to discover if she were in earnest, then looked at his watch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If we make haste across the park, we shall be able to catch the
+express to town.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then let's make haste and catch it.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They began to walk quickly, side by side. As they passed round the
+bend they came on the two children sitting, with the Stranger, beside
+the lake. The children, scrambling to their feet, came running to
+them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mamma,' they cried, 'come and see the friend of little children!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At sight of them the woman drew back, as if afraid. The man
+interposed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Don't worry, you youngsters! Your mother's in a hurry--run away!
+Come, Doris, make haste; we've no time to lose if we wish to catch
+the train.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He put his arm through hers, and made as if to draw her past them.
+She seemed disposed to linger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Let me--say good-bye to them.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He whispered in her ear:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There'll only be a scene; don't be foolish, child! There's not a
+moment to lose!' He turned angrily to the boy and girl. 'Don't you
+hear, you youngsters!--run away!' As the children moved aside,
+frightened at his violence, and bewildered by the strangeness of
+their mother's manner, he gripped the woman's arm more firmly,
+beginning by sheer force to hurry her off. 'Come, Doris,' he
+exclaimed, 'don't be an idiot!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger, who had been sitting on the grass, stood up and faced
+them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Rather be wise. There still is time. What is it you would do?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The interruption took the pair completely by surprise. The man stared
+angrily at the Stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who are you, sir? And what do you mean by interfering in what is no
+concern of yours?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you sure that it is no concern of Mine?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man endeavoured to meet the Stranger's eyes, with but scant
+success. His erect, bold, defiant attitude gave place to one of
+curious uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'How can it be any concern of yours?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'All things are My concern, the things which you do, and the things
+which you leave undone. Would it were not so, for many and great are
+the burdens which you lay upon me. You wicked man! Yet more foolish
+even than wicked! What is this woman to you that you should seek to
+slay her body and soul? Is she not of those who know not what is the
+thing they do till it is done? It is well with you if this sin, also,
+shall not be laid to your charge,--that you are a blind leader of the
+blind!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger turned to the woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your eyes shall be opened. Look upon this man to see him as he is.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The woman looked at the man. As she looked, a change came over him.
+Before her accusatory glance he seemed to dwindle and wax old. He
+grew ugly, his jaw dropped open, his eyes were full of lust, cruelty
+was writ upon his countenance. On a sudden he had become a thing of
+evil. She shrank back with a cry of horror and alarm, while he stood
+before her cowering like some guilty creature whose shame has been
+suddenly made plain. And the Stranger said to him:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Go! and seek that peace of which you would have robbed her.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man, shambling away round the bend in the path, presently was
+lost to sight. The Stranger was left alone with the children and the
+woman. The woman stood before Him trembling, with bowed form and face
+cast down, and she cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who are you, sir?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Look upon Me: and as you knew the man, so, also, you shall know Me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She looked on Him, and knew Him, and wept.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, I know You! Have mercy upon me!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He answered:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am the friend of little children, and of the mothers that bare
+them; for the pains of the women are not little ones; and because
+they are great, so also shall great mercy be shown unto them. For
+unto those that suffer most, shall not most be forgiven? for is not
+suffering akin to repentance?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the woman cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, I am not worthy Thy forgiveness!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And to her He said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is any worthy? No, not one. Yet many are those to whom forgiveness
+comes. There are your children, that are an heritage to you of God.
+Take them, and as you are unto them, so shall God be unto you, and
+more. Return to your husband; say to him what things have happened
+unto you, and fear not because of him.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the woman went, holding a child by either hand. And the Stranger
+stood and watched them as they went. And when they had gone some
+distance, the woman turned and looked at Him. And He called to her:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Be of good courage!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And after that she saw Him no more.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">THE OPERATION</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The students crowded the benches. Some wore hats and gloves,
+and carried sticks or umbrellas; they had the appearance of having
+just dropped in to enjoy a little passing relaxation. Others, hatless
+and gloveless, wore instead an air of intense pre-occupation; they
+had note-books in their hands, and spent the time studying anatomical
+charts in sombre-covered volumes. Many were smoking pipes for the
+most part; the air was heavy with tobacco smoke. Nearly everybody
+talked; there was a continual clatter of voices; men on one side
+called to men on the other, exchanging jokes and laughter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the well below were the tables for the operator and his
+paraphernalia. Assistants were making all things ready. The smell of
+antiseptic fluids mingled with the odour of tobacco. Omnipresent was
+the pungent suggestion of carbolic acid. A glittering array of
+instruments was being sterilised and placed in order for the
+operator's hand. The anæsthetists were busy with their preparations
+to expedite unconsciousness, the dressers with their bandages to be
+applied when the knives had made an end.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was about the whole theatre, and in particular about the little
+array of men upon the floor in their white shrouds, who were occupied
+in doing things the meaning of which was hidden from the average
+layman, something which the unaccustomed eye and ear and stomach
+would have found repulsive. But in the bearing of those who were
+actually present there was no hint that the work in which they were
+to be engaged had about it any of the elements of the disagreeable.
+They were, taking them all in all, and so far as appearances went, a
+careless, lighthearted, jovial crew.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the operator entered, accompanied by two colleagues, there was
+silence, or, rather, a distinct hush. Pipes were put out, men settled
+in their seats, note-books were opened, opera-glasses were produced.
+The operator was a man of medium height and slender build, with
+slight side-whiskers and thin brown hair, which was turning gray. He
+wore spectacles. Having donned the linen duster, he turned up his
+shirtsleeves close to his shoulders, and with bare arms began to
+examine the preparations which the assistants had made. He glanced at
+the instruments, commented on the bandages, gave some final
+directions to an irrigator; then each man fell into his place and
+waited. The door opened and a procession entered. A stretcher was
+carried in by two men, one at the head and one at the foot. A nurse
+walked by the side, holding the patient by the hand; two other nurses
+accompanied. The patient was lifted on to the table. The porters,
+with the stretcher, withdrew. The nurse who had held the patient's
+hand stooped and kissed her, whispering words of comfort. The
+operator bent also. What he said was clearly audible.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Don't be afraid; it will be all right.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The patient said nothing. She was a woman of about thirty years, and
+was suffering from cancer in the womb.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Anæsthetics were applied, but she took them badly, fighting,
+struggling against their influence, crying and whimpering all the
+time. Force had to be used to restrain her movements on the table.
+When she felt their restraining hands, she began to be hysterical and
+to scream. A second attempt was made to bring about unconsciousness;
+again without result. The surgeons held a hurried consultation as to
+whether the operation should be carried out with the patient still in
+possession of her senses. It was resolved that there should be a
+third and more drastic effort to produce anæsthesia. On that occasion
+the desired result was brought about. Her cries and struggles ceased;
+she was in a state of torpor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The body was bared; the knife began its work....</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The operation was not wholly successful. There had been fears that it
+would fail; but as, if it were not attempted, an agonising death
+would certainly ensue, it had been felt that it was a case in which
+every possible chance should be taken advantage of, and in which the
+undoubted risk was worth incurring. The woman was still young. She
+had a husband who loved her and children whom she loved. She did not
+wish to die; so it had been decided that surgical science should do
+its best to win life for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But it appeared that the worst fears on her account were likely to be
+realised. The operation was a prolonged one. The resistance she had
+offered to the application of the anæsthetics had weakened her. Soon
+after the surgeon began his labours it became obvious to those who
+knew him best that he had grave doubts as to what would be the issue.
+As he continued, his doubts grew more; they were exchanged for
+certainties, until it began to be whispered through the theatre that
+the operation, which was being brought to as rapid a conclusion as
+possible, was being conducted on a subject who was already dead.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The woman had died under the surgeon's knife. Shortly the fact was
+established beyond the possibility of challenge. Reagents of every
+kind were applied in the most effective possible manner; medical
+skill and experience did its utmost; but neither the Materia Medica
+nor the brains of doctors shall prevail against death, and this woman
+was already dead.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the thing was made plain, there came into the atmosphere a
+peculiar quality. The students were very still; they neither moved
+nor spoke, but sat stiffly, with their eyes fixed on the naked woman
+extended on the oilskin pad. Some of those faces were white, their
+features set and rigid. This was notably the case with those who were
+youngest and most inexperienced, though there were those among the
+seniors who were ill at ease. It was almost as if they had been
+assisting at a homicide; before their eyes they had seen this woman
+done to death. The operator was a man whose nerve was notorious, or
+he would not have held the position which he did; but even he seemed
+to have been nonplussed by what had happened beneath his knife. His
+assistants clustered together, eyeing him askance, and each other,
+and the woman, with the useless bandages hiding the gaping wound. His
+colleagues whispered apart. They and he were all drabbled with blood;
+each seemed conscious of his ensanguined hands. All in the building
+had come full of faith in the man whose fame as a surgeon was a
+byword; it was as though their faith had received an ugly jar.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While the hush endured, One rose from His place on the benches, and
+stepping on to the operating floor, moved towards the woman. An
+assistant endeavoured to interpose.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Go back to your place, sir. What do you mean by coming here?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You have done your work. Am I not, then, to do Mine?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The assistant stared, taken aback by what seemed to him to be
+impudence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Don't talk nonsense! Who are you, sir?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am He you know not of--a help to those in pain.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The assistant hesitated, glancing from the Speaker to his chief. The
+Stranger drew a sheet over the woman, so that only her face remained
+uncovered. Turning to the operator, He beckoned with His finger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The surgeon went. The Stranger said to him, pointing towards the
+woman:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Insomuch as what you have done was done for her, it is well;
+insomuch as it was done for your own advancing, it was ill. Yet be
+not afraid. Blessed are the hands which heal men's wounds, and wipe
+the tears of pain out of their eyes. Better to be of use to those
+that suffer than to be a king. For the time shall come when you shall
+say: &quot;As I did unto others, so do, Lord, unto me.&quot; And it shall be
+done. Yet do it, not for the swelling of your purse, but for your
+brother's sake, and your payment shall be of God.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the Stranger, turning, spoke to the students on the benches; and
+their eyes never moved from Him as, wondering, they listened to His
+words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Hearken, O young men, while I speak to you of the things which your
+fathers have forgotten, and would not remember if they could. You
+would go forth as healers of men? It is well. Go forth! Heal! The
+world is very sick. Women labour; men sigh because of their pains.
+But, physicians, heal first yourselves. Be sure that you go forth in
+the spirit of healing. Where there is suffering, there go; ask not
+why it comes, nor whence, nor what shall be the fee. Heal only. The
+labourer is worthy of his hire; yet it is not for his hire he should
+labour. Heal for the healing's sake, and because of the pain which is
+in the world. God shall measure out to the physician his appointed
+fee. Trouble not yourselves with that. The less your gain, the
+greater your gain. There is One that keeps count. Each piece of money
+you heap upon the other lessens your store. I tell you that there is
+joy in heaven each time a sufferer is eased, at his brother's hands,
+of pain, because it was his brother.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the Stranger ceased, the students looked from him at each other.
+They began to murmur among themselves.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who is this fellow?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What does he mean by preaching at us?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Inflicting on us a string of platitudes!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And one, bolder than the rest, called out:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yours is excellent advice, sir, but in the light of what's just
+occurred it seems hardly to the point. Couldn't you demonstrate
+instead of talk?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger looked in the direction from which the voice came.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Stand up!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The student stood up. He was a young man of about twenty-four, with a
+shrewd, earnest face. In his hand he held an open note-book.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Always the world seeks for a sign; without a sign it will not
+believe--nor with a sign. What demonstration would you have of Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you a doctor, sir?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am a healer of men.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'With what degree?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'One you know not of.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yet I thought I knew something of all degrees.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Not all. Young man, you will find the world easy, heaven hard. Yet
+because there are many here like unto you, I will show to you a sign;
+exhibit My degree.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger turned to the operating surgeon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You say that the woman whom you sought to heal is dead?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Beyond a doubt, unfortunately.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You are sure?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Certain.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Of that you are all persuaded?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again there came murmurs from the students on the benches:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What's he up to?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who's he getting at?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Throw him out!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger waited till the murmuring was at an end. Then He turned
+to the woman, and, stooping, kissed her on the lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Daughter!' He said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And, behold, the woman sat up and looked about her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Where am I?' she asked, as one who wakes from sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is all well with you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, yes, all's well with me, thank God!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is good hearing.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then there was a tumult in the theatre. The students stood up in
+their places, speaking all together.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'How's he done it?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'She must have been only shamming.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's a trick!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's a plant!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's a got-up thing between them.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Insults were hurled at the Stranger by a hundred different voices. In
+the heat of their excitement the students came streaming down from
+their seats on to the operating floor. They looked for the man who
+had done this thing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Where is he?' they cried. 'We'll make him confess how the trick was
+done.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But He whom they sought was not there. He had already gone. When they
+discovered that this was so, and that He whom they sought was not to
+be found, but had vanished from before their eyes, their bewilderment
+grew still more. With one accord they turned to look at the woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As if alarmed by the noise of their threatening voices, and the
+confusion caused by their tumultuous movements, she had raised
+herself upon the operating table, so that she stood upright before
+them all, naked as she was born. And they saw that the bandages had
+fallen from off her, and that her body was without scratch and
+blemish, round and whole.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's a miracle!' they exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A great silence fell over them all, until, presently, the surgeons
+and the students, looking each into the other's faces, began to ask,
+each of his neighbour:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who is the man that has done this thing?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the woman gave thanks unto God, weeping tears of joy.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">THE BLACKLEG</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The foreman shrugged his shoulders. He avoided looking at the
+applicant, an undersized man, with straggling black beard and dull
+eyes. Even now, while pressing his appeal, he wore an air of being
+but slightly interested.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You know, Jones, what the conditions of employ were--keep on the
+works.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But my little girl's ill!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sorry to hear it; but you don't want to have any trouble. You heard
+how they treated your wife when she came in; they'd be much worse to
+you if I was to let you out. They're pretty near beat, and they know
+it, and they don't like it, and before they quite knock under they'd
+like to make a mark of someone. If it was you, they might make a mark
+too many; they're not overfond of you just now, as you know very
+well. And then where will you be, eh? How would your little girl be
+any better for their laying you out?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Jones turned to his wife, a sort of feminine replica of himself. She
+had her shawl drawn over her head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You hear, Jane, what Mr. Mason says?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Jones sighed; even in her sigh there was a curious reproduction
+of her husband's lack of interest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'All I know is that the doctor don't seem to have no great 'opes
+about Matilda, and that she keeps a-calling for you, Tom.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Does she? Then I go! Mr. Mason, I'm a-goin'.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'All right, Jones, go! Don't think that I don't feel for yer, 'cause
+I do, but as to coming back again, that's another matter. Mind, we
+can do without yer, and we don't want no fuss, that's all. Things
+have been bad enough up to now, and we don't want 'em to be no
+worse.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Outside the gates there was a considerable crowd. Among the crowd
+were the pickets and a fair leaven of the men on strike; but a large
+majority of the people might have been described as sympathisers.
+Unwise sympathisers they for the most part were; more bent on
+striking than the strikers; more resolute to fight the battle to the
+bitter end. The knowledge that already surrender was in the air
+angered them. They were in an ugly temper, disposed to 'take it out
+of' the first most convenient object.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As Mrs. Jones had made her way through them towards the gates she had
+been subjected to gibes and jeers, and worse. She had been pushed and
+hustled. More than one hand had been laid rudely on her. Someone had
+thrown a shovelful of dirt with such adroitness that it had burst in
+a shower on her head. While she was still nearly blinded she had been
+pushed hither and thither with half good-humoured horse-play, which
+was near akin to something else.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Tom Jones was an unpopular figure. He was one of the most notorious
+of the blacklegs, in a sense their leader. He had persisted in being
+master of his own volition; asserted his right to labour for whom he
+pleased, at whatever terms he chose. Such men are the greatest
+enemies of trades unions. Allow a man his freedom, and unionism, in
+its modern sense, is at an end. It is one of the questions of the
+moment whether the good of the greatest number does not imperatively
+demand special legislation which shall hold such men in bonds; which
+shall make it a penal offence for them to consider themselves free.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Word had gone round that Jones's little girl was ill; that the doctor
+had decided she was dying; that Mrs. Jones had come to fetch him home
+to bid the child good-bye. By most of those there it was
+unhesitatingly agreed that this was as it should be; that Jones was
+being served just right; that he was only getting a bit of what he
+ought to have, which, it was quite within the range of possibility,
+they would supplement with something else.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was because of Jones and his like that the strike was failing, had
+failed; that they were beaten and broken, brought to their knees, in
+spite of all their organisation, of what they had endured. Jones! It
+was currently reported that the idea of giving the blacklegs food and
+lodging on the premises, and so rendering the wiles of the pickets of
+no avail, was Jones's. At any rate, he had been among the first to
+fall in with the proposition, and for many days he had not been
+outside the gates. Jones! Let him put his face outside those gates
+now and he would see what they would show him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the gates were opened, and Mrs. Jones had entered, they waited,
+murmuring and muttering, with twitching fingers and lowering brows,
+wondering if the prospect of being able to bid his dying child
+good-bye would be sufficient inducement to him to trust himself
+outside there in the open. And while they wondered he came.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again the gate was opened. Out came Jones; close behind him was his
+wife. Then the gate was shut to with a bang.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was known by sight to many in the crowd. By them the knowledge of
+who he was was instantly communicated to all the rest. He was not
+greeted with any tumult; they were too much in earnest to be noisy.
+But, with one accord, they cursed him, and their curses, though not
+loudly uttered, reached him, every one. He stood fronting the array
+of angry faces, all inclined in his direction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The three policemen, who kept a clear space in front of the works,
+and saw that ingress and egress was gained with some sort of ease,
+hardly seemed to know what to make of him, or of the situation. They
+glanced at Jones, then at the crowd, then at each other. All the
+morning the people had been gathering round the gate, the number
+increasing as the minutes passed. Except that they could not be
+induced to move away, there had been little to object to in their
+demeanour until now. As Jones appeared with his wife they formed
+together into a more compact mass. Another shovelful of dust was
+thrown by someone at the back with the same dexterity as before, so
+that it lighted on the man and the woman, partially obscuring them
+beneath a cloud of dust. That same instant perhaps a dozen stones
+were thrown, some of which struck both Mr. and Mrs. Jones, the rest
+rattling against the gate.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was done so quickly that the police had not a chance to offer
+interference. They had been instructed to make as little show of
+authority as possible, to bear as much as could be borne, and, until
+the last extremity, to do nothing to rouse the rancour of the
+strikers. In the face of this sudden assault the trio hesitated. Then
+the one nearest to the gate held his hand up to the crowd, shouting:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Now, you chaps, none of that! Don't you go making fools of
+yourselves, or you'll be sorry!' He turned to the Joneses. 'You'd
+better go back and try to get out some other way. There'll be trouble
+if you stop here.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Tom Jones asked him stolidly, gazing with his lack-lustre eyes
+intently at the crowd:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Which other way?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't know--any other way. You can't get this way, that's plain--
+they mean mischief. Back you go, before you're sorry.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The constable endeavoured to hustle the pair back within the gate.
+But Jones would not have it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My child's dying; this is the nearest way to her. I'm going this
+way.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The officer persisted in his attempt to persuade him to change his
+mind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Don't be silly! You won't do your child any good by getting yourself
+knocked to pieces, will you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Tom Jones was obstinate.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'm going this way.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Slipping past the constable, he moved towards the crowd. The people
+confronted him like a solid wall.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Let me pass, you chaps.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That moment the storm broke. The man's stolid demeanour, the complete
+indifference with which he faced their rage, might have had something
+to do with it. The effect of his request to be allowed to pass was as
+if he had dropped a lighted match into a powder-magazine. An
+explosion followed. The air was rent by curses; the people became all
+at once like madmen. Possessed with sudden frenzy, they crowded round
+the man, raining on him a hail of blows, each man struggling with his
+fellow in order to reach the object of his rage. Their very fury
+defeated their purpose. Not a few of the blows which were meant for
+Jones fell on their own companions. With the commencement of the
+attack Jones's stolidity completely vanished. He was transformed into
+a fiend, and behaved like one. His voice was heard above the others,
+pouring forth a flood of objurgations on the heads of his assailants.
+His wife was his slavish disciple. Her shrill tones were mingled with
+his deeper ones; they were at least as audible. Her language was no
+better, her passion was no less. The man and the woman fought like
+wild beasts. And so blinded by fury were the efforts of their
+assailants that the pair were able to give back much more than they
+received.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The attempts of the police at pacification were useless. They were
+not in sufficient force. And there is a point in the temper of a
+crowd at which its rage is not to be appeased until it has vented
+itself on the object of its fury. All that the officers succeeded in
+doing was to lose their own tempers. Under certain circumstances
+there is irresistible contagion in a madman's frenzy. Presently they
+themselves were mingling in the frantic mêlée, apparently with as
+little show of reason as the rest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Suddenly the crowd gave way towards the centre. Those in the middle
+were borne down by those who persisted in pressing on. There was a
+struggling, heaving, mouthing mass upon the ground, with the Joneses
+underneath. And, as the writhings and contortions of this heap grew
+less and less, there came One, before whose touch men gave way, so
+that, before they knew it, He stood there, in their very midst,
+before them all. In His presence their rage was stilled. Ceasing to
+contend, they drew back, looking towards Him with their bloodshot
+eyes. Where had been the pile of living men was a clear space, in
+which He stood. At His feet were two forms--Tom Jones and his wife.
+The woman cried and groaned, twisting her limbs; but the man lay
+still.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is it that you would do?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With the sorrowful inflexion of the voice was blended a satiric
+intonation which seemed to strike some of those who heard as with a
+thong. One man, a big, burly fellow, chose to take the question as
+addressed to himself. He still trembled with excess of rage; his
+voice was husky; from his mouth there came a volley of oaths.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Bash the ---- to a jelly--that's what we'd like to do to
+his ---- carcase! It's through the likes of him that our homes are
+broken up, our kids starving, our wives with pretty near nothing on.
+Killing's too good for such a----!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who are you that you should judge your brother?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man spat on the pavement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He's no brother of mine--not much he ain't! If I'd a brother like
+him, I'd cut my throat!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Since all men are brethren, and this is a man, if he is not your
+brother, what, then, are you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He's no man! If he is, I hope I ain't.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger was for a moment silent, looking at the speaker, who,
+drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, averted his glance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You are a man--as he is. Would that you both were more than men, or
+less. Go, all of you that would shed innocent blood, knowing not what
+it is you do. Wash the stain from off your hands; for if your hands
+are clean, so also are your hearts. As your ignorance is great, so
+also is God's mercy. Go, I say, and learn who is your brother.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the people went, slinking off, for the most part, in little
+groups of threes and fours, muttering together. Some there were who
+made haste, and ran, thinking that the man was dead, and fearful of
+what might follow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When they were all gone, the Stranger turned to the woman, who still
+cried and made a noise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Cease, woman, and go to your daughter, lest she be dead before you
+come.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And stooping, he touched the man upon the shoulder, saying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Rise!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the man stood up, and the Stranger said to him:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Haste, and go to your daughter, who calls for you continually.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the man and the woman went away together, without a word.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">IN PICCADILLY</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">It was past eleven. The people, streaming out of the theatres, poured
+into Piccadilly Circus. The night was fine, so that those on foot
+were disposed to take their time. The crowd was huge, its constituent
+parts people of all climes and countries, of all ranks and stations.
+To the unaccustomed eye the confusion was bewildering; omnibuses
+rolled heavily in every direction; hansom cabs made efforts to break
+through what, to the eyes of their sanguine drivers, seemed breaks in
+the line of traffic; carriages filled with persons in evening-dress
+made such haste as they could. The pavements were crowded almost to
+the point of danger; even in the roadway foot-passengers passed
+hither and thither amidst the throng of vehicles, while on every side
+vendors of evening papers pushed and scrambled, shouting out, with
+stentorian lungs, what wares they had to sell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The papers met with a brisk demand. Strange tales were told in them.
+Readers were uncertain as to the light in which they ought to be
+regarded; editors were themselves in doubt as to the manner in which
+it would be proper to set them forth. Some wrote in a strain which
+was intended to be frankly humorous; others told the stories baldly,
+leaving readers to take them as they chose; while still a third set
+did their best to dish them up in the shape of a wild sensation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was currently reported that a Mysterious Stranger had appeared in
+London. During the last few hours He had been seen by large numbers
+of people. The occasions on which He had created the most remarkable
+impressions had been two. At St. John's Hall the Rev. Philip Evans
+had been preaching on the Second Coming, when, in the middle of the
+discourse, a Stranger had appeared upon the platform, actually
+claiming, so far as could be gathered, to be the Christ. In the
+operating theatre at St. Philip's Hospital, just as a subject--a
+woman--had succumbed under the surgeon's knife, a Stranger had come
+upon the scene, and, before all eyes, had restored the dead to life.
+It was this story of the miracle, as it was called, at St. Philip's
+Hospital, which had been exciting London all that day. The thing was
+incredible; but the witnesses were so reputable, their statements so
+emphatic, the details given so precise, it was difficult to know what
+to make of it. And now in the evening papers there was a story of how
+a riot had taken place outside Messrs. Anthony's works. The strikers
+had attacked a blackleg. A stranger had come upon them while they
+were in the very thick of the fracas; at a word from Him the tumult
+ceased; before His presence the brawlers had scattered like chaff
+before the wind. The latest editions were full of the tale; it was in
+everybody's mouth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Christ's name was in the air, the topic of the hour. The Stranger's
+claim was, of course, absurd, unspeakable. He was an impostor, some
+charlatan; at best, a religious maniac. Similar creatures had arisen
+before, notably in the United States, though we had not been without
+them here in England, and Roman Catholic countries had had their
+share. The story of the dead woman who had been restored to life at
+St. Philip's Hospital was odd, but it was capable of natural
+explanation. To doubt this would be to write one's self down a
+lunatic, a superstitious fool, a relic of medieval ignorance. There
+is no going outside natural laws; the man who pretends to do so
+writes himself down a knave, and pays those to whom he appeals a very
+scanty compliment. Why, even the most pious of God's own ministers
+have agreed that there are no miracles, and never have been. Go to
+with your dead woman restored to life! Yet, the tale was an odd one,
+especially as it was so well attested. But then the thing was so well
+done that it seemed that those present were in a state of mind in
+which they would have been prepared to swear to anything.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Still, Christ's name was in the air--in an unusual sense. It came
+from unaccustomed lips. Even the women of the pavement spoke of
+Jesus, wondering if there was such a man, and what would happen if He
+were to come again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Suppose this fellow in the papers turned out to be Him, how would
+that be then?' one inquired of the other. Then both were silent, for
+they were uneasy; and at the first opportunity they solaced
+themselves with a drink.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The men for the most part were more outspoken in ribaldry than
+the women, especially those specimens of masculinity who frequented
+at that hour the purlieus of Piccadilly Circus. Common-sense was
+their stand-by. What was not in accordance with the teachings of
+common-sense was nothing. How could it be otherwise? Judged by this
+standard, the tales which were told were nonsense, sheer and
+absolute. Therefore, in so far as they were concerned, the scoffer's
+was the proper mental attitude. The editors who wrote of them
+humorously were the level-headed men. They were only fit to be
+laughed at.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If I'd been at St. Philip's, I'd have got hold of that very
+mysterious stranger, and I'd have kept hold until I'd got from him an
+explanation of that pretty little feat of hanky-panky.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The speaker was standing at the Piccadilly corner of the Circus, by
+the draper's shop. He was a tall man, and held a cigar in his mouth.
+His overcoat was open, revealing the evening dress beneath. The man
+to whom he spoke was shorter. He was dressed in tweeds; his soft felt
+hat, worn a little on one side of his head, lent to him a mocking
+air. When the other spoke, he laughed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'd like to have a shy at him myself. I've seen beggars of his sort
+in India, where they do a lot of mischief, sometimes sending whole
+districts stark staring mad. But there they do believe in them; thank
+goodness we don't!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'How do you make that out, when you read the names of the people who
+are prepared to swear to the truth of the St. Philip's tale?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My dear boy, long before this they're sorry. Fellows lost their
+heads--sort of moment of delirium, which will leave a bad taste in
+their mouths now they've got well out of it. If that mysterious
+gentleman ever comes their way again, they'll be every bit as ready
+to keep a tight hold of him as you could be.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I wonder.' The tall man puffed at his cigar. 'I'd give--well, Grey,
+I won't say how much, but I'd give a bit to have him stand in front
+of me just here and now. That kind of fellow makes me sick. The
+common or garden preacher I don't mind; he has his uses. But the kind
+of creature who tries to trade on the folly of the great majority, by
+trying to make out that he's something which he isn't--whenever he's
+about there ought to be a pump just handy. We're too lenient to
+cattle of his particular breed.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Suppose, Boyle, this mysterious stranger were to appear in
+Piccadilly now, what's the odds that you, for one, wouldn't try to
+plug him in the eye?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't know about me, but I'm inclined to think that there are
+others who would endeavour their little best to reach him
+thereabouts. Piccadilly at this time of night is hardly the place for
+a mysterious anyone to cut a figure to much advantage. I fancy
+there'd be ructions. Anyhow, I'd like to see him come.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Boyle's tone was grim. His companion laughed; but before the
+sound of his laughter had long died out the speaker's wish was
+gratified.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All in an instant, without any sort of warning, there was one of
+those scenes which occur in Piccadilly on most nights of the week. A
+woman had been drinking; she was young, new to her trade, still
+unaccustomed to the misuse of stimulants. She made a noise. A female
+acquaintance endeavoured to induce her to go away; in vain. The
+girl, pulling up her skirts, began to dance and shout, and to behave
+like a virago, among the throng of loiterers who were peopling the
+pavement. A man made some chaffing remark to her. She flew at him
+like a tiger-cat. Directly there was an uproar. There are times and
+seasons when it requires but a very little thing to transform those
+midnight Saturnalia into chaos. The police hurled themselves into the
+struggling throng, making captives of practically everyone on whom
+they could lay their hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The crowd was in uncomfortable proximity to Mr. Grey and his friend.
+It swayed in their direction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We'd better clear out of this, Boyle, before there's an ugly rush
+comes our way. Let's get across the road. I'm in no humour for
+skittles to-night, if you don't mind.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The speaker glanced smilingly towards the seething throng. It was the
+humorous side of the thing which appealed to him; he had seen it so
+often before. Boyle diverted his attention.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Hollo! who's this?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Someone stepped from the roadway on to the pavement, moving quickly,
+yet lightly, so that there was about His actions no appearance of
+haste. He held His hands a little raised. People made way to let Him
+pass, as if they knew that He was coming, even though He approached
+them in silence from behind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's Christ!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The exclamation was Grey's reply to his friend's query. Boyle,
+starting, turned to stare at him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Grey, what do you mean?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's Christ! Don't you know Christ when you see him? It's the
+mysterious stranger! Why don't you go and lay fast hold on him?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Boyle stared at his friend in silence. There was that in his manner
+which was disconcerting--an obsession. The fashion of his face was
+changed; a new light was in his eyes. The big man seemed half amused,
+half startled. As he stood and listened and watched, his amusement
+diminished, his appearance of being startled grew.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The crowd had given way before the Stranger, making a lane through
+which He had passed to its midst; and it was silent. The vehicles
+rumbled along the road; from the other side of the street the voices
+of newsboys assailed the air; pedestrians went ceaselessly to and
+fro; but there, where the noise had just been greatest, all was
+still--a strange calm had come on the excited throng.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were there all sorts and conditions of men and women that had
+fallen away from virtue. There were men of all ages, from white
+haired to beardless boys; from those who had drained the cup of vice
+to its uttermost dregs, yet still clutched with frantic, trembling
+fingers at the empty goblet, to those who had just begun to peep over
+its edge, and to feast their eyes on its fulness to the brim. There
+were men of all stations, from old and young rakes of fortune and
+family to struggling clerks, shop-assistants, office-boys, and those
+creatures of the gutter who rake the kennels for offal with which to
+fill their bellies. Among the women there was the same diversity.
+They were of all nations--English, French, German, and the rest; of
+all ages--grandmothers and girls who had not yet attained to the age
+of womanhood. There were some of birth and breeding, and there were
+daughters of the slums, heritors of their mothers' foulness. There
+were the comparatively affluent, and there were those who had gone
+all day hungry, and who still looked for a stroke of fortune to gain
+for them a night's lodging. But they all were the same; they all had
+painted faces, and they all were decked in silks and satins or such
+other tawdry splendour as by any crooked means they could lay their
+hands on which would serve to advertise their trade.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And in the midst of this assemblage of the dregs of humanity the
+Stranger stood; and He put to them the question which was to become
+familiar ere long to not a few of the people of the city:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is it you would do?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They returned no answer; instead, they looked at Him askance, doubt,
+hesitancy, surprise, wonder, awe, revealing themselves in varying
+degrees upon their faces as they were seen beneath the paint.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Two policemen had in custody the young woman who had been the
+original cause of disturbance. Each held her by an arm. The Stranger
+turned to them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Loose her.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Without an attempt at remonstrance they did as He bade. They took
+their hands from off her and set her free. She stood before them,
+seeming ashamed and sobered, with downcast face, seeking the pavement
+with her eyes. But all at once, as if she could not bear the silence
+any longer, she raised her head and met His glance, asking:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who are you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Do you not know Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Know you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her tone suggested that she was searching her memory to recall His
+face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If you do not know Me now that you look on Me, then shall I never be
+known to you. Yet it is strange that it should be so, for I am the
+Friend of sinners.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The Friend----'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The girl got so far in repeating the Strangers words, then suddenly
+stopped, and, bursting into a passion of tears, threw herself on her
+knees on the pavement at His feet crying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, I know You! Have mercy upon me!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger touched her with His hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In that you know Me it shall be well with you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He looked about him on the crowd.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Would that you all knew Me, even as this woman does!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the people eyed each other, wondering. There were some who
+laughed, and others inquired among themselves:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who is this fellow? And what is the matter with the girl, that she
+goes on like this?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One there was who cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Tell us who you are.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am He that you know not of.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's all right, so far as it goes, but it doesn't go far enough;
+it's an insufficient definition. What's your name?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Day and night you call upon My name, yet do not know Me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Look here, my friend; are you suggesting that you're anybody in
+particular? because, if so, tell us straight out, who? We're not good
+at conundrums, and at this time of night it's not fair to start us
+solving them.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger was silent. His gaze passed eagerly from face to face.
+When He had searched them all, He cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is there not one that knows Me save this woman? Is there not one?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A man came out from amidst the people, and stood in front of the
+Stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I know You,' he said. 'You are Christ.'</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">THE ONLY ONE THAT WAS LEFT</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Stillness followed the man's words until the people began to fidget,
+and to shuffle with their feet, and to murmur:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What talk is this? What blasphemy does this man utter? Who is this
+mountebank to whom he speaks?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the Stranger continued to look at the man who had come out from
+the crowd. And He asked him:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'How is it that you know Me, since I do not know you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man laughed, and, as he did so, it was seen that the Stranger
+started, and drew a little back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Because I know You, it doesn't follow that You should know me. I'd
+rather that You didn't. Directly You came into the street I knew that
+it was You, and wished You further. What do You want to trouble us
+for? Aren't we better off without You?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger held up His hand as if to keep the other from Him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You thing all evil, return to your own kind!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man drew back into the crowd, a little uncertainly, as if
+crestfallen, but laughing all the time. He strode off down the
+street; they could still hear his laughter as he went. The Stranger,
+with the people, seemed to listen. As the sound grew fainter He cried
+to them with a loud voice:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Save this woman and that man, is there none that knows Me? No, not
+one!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The traffic had been brought almost to a standstill. The dimensions
+of the crowd had increased. There was a block of vehicles before it
+in the street. From the roof of an omnibus, which was crowded within
+and without with passengers, there came a shout as of a strong man:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, I know You! God be thanked that He has suffered me to see this
+day!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger replied, stretching out His arms in the direction in
+which the speaker was:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is well with you, friend, and shall be better. Go, spread the
+tidings! Tell those that know Me that I am come!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There came the answer back:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Even so, Lord, I will do Your bidding; and in the city there shall
+rise the sound of a great song. Hark! I hear the angels singing!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There came over the crowd's mood one of those sudden changes to which
+such heterogeneous gatherings are essentially liable. As question and
+answer passed to and fro, and the man's voice rose to a triumphal
+strain, the people began to be affected by a curious sense of
+excitation, asking of each other:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who, then, is this man? Is he really someone in particular? Perhaps
+he may be able to do something for us, or to give us something, if we
+ask him. Who knows?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They began to press upon Him, men and women, old and young, rich and
+poor, each with a particular request of his or her own.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Give us a trifle!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The price of a night's lodging!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A drop to drink!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A cab-fare!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Tell us who you are!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Give us a speech!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If you can do miracles, do one now!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Cure the lot of us!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Make us whole!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The requests were of all sorts and kinds. The Stranger looked upon
+the throng of applicants with glances in which were both pity and
+pain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What I would give to you you will not have. What, then, is it that I
+shall give to you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a chorus in return. For every material want He was
+entreated to provide. He shook His head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Those things which you ask I cannot give; they are not Mine. I have
+not money, nor money's worth. There is none amongst you that is so
+poor as I am.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then what can you give?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Those who would know what I can give must follow Me. The way is
+hard, and the journey long. At the end is the peace which is not of
+this world.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Where do you go?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Unto My Father.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who is your father?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Those that know Me know also My Father.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Turning as he spoke, He began to walk in the direction of Hyde Park.
+Some of the people, apparently supposing that His injunction to
+follow Him was to be understood in a literal sense, formed in a
+straggling band behind Him. At first there were not many. His
+movement, which was unexpected, had taken the bulk of the crowd by
+surprise. For some seconds it was not generally realised that He had
+commenced to pass away. When all became aware of what was happening,
+and it was understood that the mysterious Stranger was going from
+them, another wave of excitement passed through the throng, and
+something like a rush was made to keep within sight of Him. The
+farther they went, the greater became the number of those that went
+with Him. But it was observed that none came within actual touch. He
+walked with people in front, behind, on either side, yet alone. He
+occupied an empty space in their very midst, with no one within six
+or seven feet, moving neither quickly nor slowly, with head bowed,
+and hands hanging loose at His sides, seeming to see none of those
+that went with Him; and it was as though an unseen barrier was round
+about Him which even the more presumptuous of His attendants could
+not pass.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Along Piccadilly, past the shops, past Green Park, the procession
+went, growing larger and larger as it progressed. Persons, wondering
+what was the cause of the to-do, asked questions; then fell in with
+the others, curious to learn what the issue of the affair would be.
+Traffic in the road became congested. Vehicles could not proceed
+above a walking pace, because of the people who hemmed them in. Nor
+did their occupants, or their drivers, seem loath to linger with the
+throng. The police adapted their mood to that of the crowd. They saw
+men and women pouring out of restaurants and public-houses to join
+the Stranger's retinue, and were, for the most part, content to keep
+pace with it, keeping a watchful eye for what might be the possible
+upshot of the singular proceedings.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At Hyde Park Corner the Stranger stopped, and it could then be seen
+to what huge proportions the throng had grown. The whole open space
+was filled with people, and when, with the Stranger's, their advance
+was stayed, pedestrians and vehicles seemed mixed in inextricable
+confusion. Probably the large majority of those present had but the
+faintest notion of what had brought them there. In obedience to a
+sudden impulse of the gregarious instinct they had joined the crowd
+because the crowd was there to join.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As He stopped the Stranger raised His head, and looked about Him. He
+saw how large was the number of the people, and He said, in a voice
+which was only clearly audible to those who stood near:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is already late. Is it not time that you should go to your homes
+and rest?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A man replied; he was a young fellow in evening dress; he had had
+more than enough to drink:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's early yet. You don't call this late! The evening's only just
+beginning! We're game to make a night of it if you are. Where you
+lead us we will follow.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young man's words were followed by a burst of laughter from some
+of those who heard. The Stranger sighed. Turning towards Hyde Park,
+He moved towards the open gates. The crowd opened to let Him pass,
+then closing in, it followed after. The Stranger entered the silent
+park. Crossing Rotten Row, He led the way to the grassy expanse which
+lay beyond. Not the whole crowd went with Him. The vehicles went
+their several ways, many also of the people. Some stayed, loitering
+and talking over what had happened; so far, that is, as they
+understood. These the police dispersed. Still, those who continued
+with the Stranger were not few.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When He reached the grass the Stranger stopped again. The people,
+gathering closer, surrounded Him, as if expecting Him to speak. But
+He was still. They looked at Him with an eager curiosity. At first He
+did not look at them at all. So that, while with their intrusive
+glances they searched Him, as it were, from head to foot, He stood in
+their midst with bent head and downcast eyes. They talked together,
+some in whispers, and some in louder tones; and there were some who
+laughed, until, at last, a man called out:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Well, what have you brought us here for? To stand on the grass and
+catch cold?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger answered, without raising His eyes from the ground:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is it I that have brought you here? Then it is well.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a titter--a woman's giggle rising above the rest. The
+Stranger, raising His head, looked towards where the speaker stood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It were well if most of you should die to-night. O people of no
+understanding, that discern the little things and cannot see the
+greater, that have made gods of your bellies, and but minister unto
+your bodies, what profiteth it whether you live or whether you die?
+Neither in heaven nor on earth is there a place for you. What, then,
+is it that you do here?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A man replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It seems that you are someone in particular. We want to know who you
+are, according to your own statement.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am He on whose name, throughout the whole of this great city, men
+call morning, noon, and night. And yet you do not know Me. No!
+neither do those know Me that call upon Me most.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Ever heard of Hanwell?' asked one. 'Perhaps there's some that have
+known you there.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The questioner was called to order.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Stow that! Let's know what he's got to say! Let's hear him out!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The original inquirer continued.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'For what have you come here?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'For what?' The Stranger looked up towards the skies. 'It is well
+that you should ask. I am as one who has lost his way in a strange
+land, among a strange people; yet it was to Mine own I came, in Mine
+own country.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was an interval of silence. When the inquirer spoke again, it
+was in less aggressive tones.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, there is a music in your voice which seems to go to my heart.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Friend!' The Stranger stretched out His hand towards the speaker.
+'Friend! Would that it would go to all your hearts, the music that is
+in Mine--that the sound of it would go forth to all the world! It was
+for that I came.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This time there was none that answered. It was as though
+there was that in the Stranger's words which troubled His listeners--
+which made them uneasy. Here and there one began to steal away.
+Presently, as the silence continued, the number of these increased.
+Among them was the inquirer; the Stranger spoke to him as he turned
+to go.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It was but seeming--the music which seemed to speak to your heart?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Although the words were quietly uttered, they conveyed a sting; the
+man to whom they were addressed was plainly disconcerted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, I cannot stay here all night. I am a married man; I must go
+home.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Go home.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Besides, the gates will soon be shut, and late hours don't agree
+with me; I have to go early to business.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Go home.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But, at the same time, if you wish me to stop with you--'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Go home.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man slunk away, as if ashamed; the Stranger followed him with His
+eyes. When he had gone a few yards he hesitated, stopped, turned,
+and, when he saw that the Stranger's eyes were fixed on him, he made
+as if to retrace his steps. But the Stranger said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Go home.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Taking the gently spoken words as a positive command, the man, as if
+actuated by an uncontrollable impulse, or by sudden fear, wheeling
+round again upon his heels, ran out of the park as fast as he was
+able. When the man had vanished, the Stranger, looking about Him,
+found that the number of His attendants had dwindled to a scanty few.
+To them He said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why do you stay? Why do you, also, not go home?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A fellow replied--his coat was buttoned to his chin; his hands were
+in his pockets; a handkerchief was round his neck:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Well, gov'nor, I reckon it's because some of us ain't got much of a
+'ome to go to. I know I ain't. A seat in 'ere'll be about my mark--
+that is, if the coppers'll let me be.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again the Stranger's glance passed round the remnant which remained.
+As the fellow's speech suggested, it was a motley gathering. All
+told, it numbered, perhaps, a dozen--all that was left of the great
+crowd which had been there a moment ago. Three or four were women,
+the rest were men. They stood a little distance off, singly--one here
+and there. As far as could be seen in the uncertain light, all were
+poorly clad, most were in rags--a tatterdemalion crew, the sweepings
+of the streets.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you all homeless, as I am?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A man replied who was standing among those who were farthest off; he
+spoke as if the question had offended him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I ain't 'omeless--no fear! I've got as food a 'ome as anyone need
+want to 'ave; 'm none o' yer outcasts.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then why do you not go to it?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why? I am a-goin', ain't I? I suppose I can go 'ome when I like,
+without none o' your interference!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man slouched off, grumbling as he went, his hands thrust deep
+into his trousers pockets, his head sunk between his shoulders. And
+with him the rest of those who were left went too, some of them
+sneaking off across the grass, further into the heart of the park,
+bent nearly double, so as to get as much as possible into the shadow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The cause of this sudden and general flight was made plain by the
+approach of a policeman, shouting:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Now, then! Gates going to be closed! Out you go!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger asked of him: 'May I not stay here and sleep upon the
+grass?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The policeman laughed, as if he thought the question was a joke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Not much you mayn't! Grass is damp--might catch cold--take too much
+care of you for that.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Where, then, can I sleep?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't know where you can sleep. I'm not here to answer questions.
+You go out!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger began to do as He was bid. As He was going towards the
+gate, a man came hastening to His side; he had been holding himself
+apart, and only now came out of the shadow. He was a little man; his
+eagerness made him breathless.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, it's not much of a place we've got, my wife and I, but such as
+it is, we shall be glad to give You a night's lodging. I can answer
+for my wife, and the place is clean.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger looked at him, and smiled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I thank you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Together they went out of the park, the new-comer limping, for he was
+lame of one foot, the Stranger walking at his side. And all those
+whom they passed stopped, and turned, and looked at them as they
+went; some of them asking of themselves:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is there peculiar about that man?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For it was as though there had been an unusual quality in the
+atmosphere as He went by.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">THE FIRST DISCIPLE</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">'This,' said the lame man, 'is where I live. My rooms are on the
+first floor. My name is Henry Fenning. I am a shoemaker. My wife
+helps me at my trade. Our son lives with us, he's a little chap, just
+nine, and, like me, he's lame.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man had conducted the Stranger to a street opening on to the
+Brompton Road. Even in that uncertain light it could be seen that the
+houses stood in need of repairs; they were of irregular construction,
+small, untidy, old. On the ground floor of the one in which he had
+paused was a shop, a little one; the shop front was four shutters
+wide. One surmised, from the pictures on the wall, that it sold
+sweetstuff and odds and ends. The man's manner was anxious, timid, as
+if, while desirous that his Visitor should take advantage of such
+hospitality as he could offer, he yet wished to inform Him as to the
+kind of place He might expect. The Stranger smiled; there was that in
+His smile which seemed to fill His companion with a singular sense of
+elation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is good of you to give Me what you can.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The shoemaker laughed gently, as if his laughter was inspired by a
+sudden consciousness of gladness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is good of You to take what I can give.' He opened the door.
+'Wait a moment while I show You a light.' Striking a match, he held
+it above his head. 'Take care how You come in; the boards are rough.'
+The Stranger, entering, followed His host up the narrow stairs, into
+a room on the first floor. 'Mary, I have brought you a Visitor.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At the utterance of the name the Stranger started.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mary!' He exclaimed. 'Blessed are you among women!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a small apartment--work-room, living-room, kitchen, all in
+one. Implements of the shoemaker's trade were here and there; some
+partly finished boots were on a bench at one side. The man's wife was
+seated at a sewing-machine, working; she rose, as her husband
+entered, to give him greeting. She was a rosy-faced woman, of medium
+height, but broadly built, with big brown eyes, about forty years of
+age. She observed the Stranger with wondering looks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, I seem to know You.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the Stranger said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I know you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The woman turned to her husband.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who is this?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her husband replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is the Welcome Guest. Give Him to eat and to drink, and after, He
+would sleep.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The woman put some cold meat and cheese and bread upon a small table,
+which she drew into the centre of the floor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, this is all I have.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I know it.' He took the chair which her husband offered. 'Come and
+sit and eat and drink with Me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man and his wife sat with Him at the table, and they ate and
+drank together. When the meal was finished, He said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You are the first that have given Me food. What you have given Me
+shall be given you, and more.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Presently the shoemaker came to the Stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, in our bedroom we have only one bed. If You will sleep in it,
+my wife will make up another for us here upon the floor. We shall do
+very well.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the bedroom the Stranger saw that a child slept in a little bed
+which was against a wall. The shoemaker explained.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is my son. He will not trouble You. He sleeps very sound.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger bent over the bed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In his sleep he smiles.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yes, he often does. He has happy dreams. And he comes of a smiling
+stock.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger turned to the lame man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Do you often smile?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yes; why not? God has been very good to me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'God is good to all alike.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's what my wife and I say to each other; but it's only the lucky
+ones who know it.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the shoemaker and his wife were alone in the living-room
+together, they kissed and gave thanks unto God. For they said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This night the Lord is with us. Blessed is the name of the Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the morning, when it was full day, the boy woke up and went to the
+bed on which the Stranger lay asleep, crying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Father!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the Stranger was roused, and saw the boy standing at his side. He
+stretched out His arms to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My son!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the boy shrank back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You are not my father. Where is my father and my mother?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'They are in the next room, asleep. They have given Me their bed.
+And, because they have done so, I am your Father too. So in your
+sleep you smiled?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Did I? I expect it was because I dreamed that I was happy.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Was your happiness but a dream?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'While I was asleep. Now I am awake I know I'm happy.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But you are lame?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'So's father. I don't mind being lame if father is.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger was still. He smiled, and touched the child upon the
+shoulder. And the boy gave a sudden cry. He drew up his night-shirt,
+and looked down at his right leg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why, it's straight!--like the other.' He began to move about the
+room. 'I'm not lame! I'm not lame!' All aglow with excitement, he
+went running through the door. 'Father! mother! my leg's gone
+straight! I can run about like other boys. Look!--I'm no longer
+lame!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When his mother saw that it was so, she took him into her arms and
+cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My boy! my boy! God be thanked for what He has done to you this
+day!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When they saw that the Stranger was standing in the doorway the
+father and mother were silent. Their hearts were too full to find
+speech easy. But the boy ran to Him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, sir! make father's leg straight like mine!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger asked of his father:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Would you have it so?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the lame man answered:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If it may be, let me stay as I am; for if I had not been lame I
+might never have known Your face.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To which the Stranger said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is a true saying. For by suffering eyes are opened; so that he
+who endures most sees best. For to all men God gives gifts.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The woman busied herself in making breakfast ready. When they were at
+table, the lame man said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, if You will not stay with us, may we come with You?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nay; you are with Me although you stay. For where My own are, I am.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, suffer me to come! Suffer it, Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If you will, come, until you find the way too long and the path too
+hard for your feet to travel; for the road by which I go is not an
+easy one.' He turned to the woman. 'Do you come also?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If You will, I will stay at home, to make ready against You come
+again.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He answered:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You have not chosen the worse part.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While they had been sitting at breakfast the boy had run out into the
+street, and told first to one and then to another how, with a touch,
+a wonderful Stranger had straightened his leg, so that he was no
+longer lame. And, since they could see for themselves that he was
+healed of his lameness, the tale was quickly noised about; so that
+when the Stranger came out of the shoemaker's house, He found that a
+number of people awaited Him without. A woman came pushing through
+the crowd, bearing a crooked child in her arms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Heal my son also! Make him straight like the other!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And being moved by pity for the child, He touched him, so that he
+sprang from his mother's arms, and stood before them whole. And all
+the people were amazed, saying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What manner of man is this, that makes the lame to walk with a
+touch?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So when He came out into the Brompton Road He was already attended by
+a crowd, some crying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This is the man who works miracles!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Others:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Bring out your sick!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With each step He took the crowd increased, so that when He came to
+the narrow part of Knightsbridge the street became choked and the
+traffic blocked. The people, because there were so many, pressed
+against Him so that He could not move, and there began to be danger
+of a riot.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lame man, who found it difficult to keep close to His side, said
+to Him:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, if You do not send them from us we shall be hurt.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But He replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is to these I have come, although they know it not. If I send
+them from us, why did I come?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When they reached that portion of the road where it grows wider in
+front of the park, the pressure became less. But still the crowd
+increased.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He goes to the hospital,' they cry, 'to heal the sick with a touch.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And some ran on to St. George's Hospital, and pushed past the porters
+up the stairs and into the wards, and began to lift the sick out of
+their beds. And those who could walk, being persuaded by them that
+had run on, went out into the streets. So that when He came, He found
+awaiting Him a strange collection of the sick, who were ill of all
+manner of diseases. And the people cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Heal them!--heal them with a touch!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But He replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is it you ask of Me? I came not to heal the sick, but to call
+sinners to repentance.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They cried the more:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Heal them!--heal them with a touch!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If I heal them, what then? Of what shall they be healed? Of what
+avail to heal the body if the spirit continues sick?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But they persisted in their exclamations. While still they pressed on
+Him, an inspector of police edged his way through the crowd.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't know who you are, sir, but you are doing a very dangerous
+thing in causing these people to behave like this.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Suffer Me first to do as they ask.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He stretched out His hand and touched those that were sick, so that
+they were whole. But when they came to look for Him who had done them
+this service, behold He was gone. And the lame man had gone with Him.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">THE DEPUTATION</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">He came, with His disciple to a gate which led into a field, through
+which there ran a stream. It was high noon. He entered the gate, and
+sat beside the stream. And the lame man sat near by. The Stranger
+watched the water as it plashed over the stones on its race to the
+mill. When presently He sighed, the lame man said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have money; there is a village close handy. Let me go and buy
+food, and bring it to you here.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But He answered:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We shall not want for food. There is one who comes to offer it to us
+now.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Even as He spoke a carriage drew up in the road on the other side of
+the hedge. A lady, standing up in it, looked through a pair of
+glasses into the field. Bidding the footman open the carriage-door,
+alighting, she came through the gate to where He sat with His
+disciple beside the stream. She was a woman of about forty years of
+age, very richly dressed. As she walked, with her skirts held well
+away from the grass, she continued to stare through the glasses,
+which were attached to a long gold handle. Looking from one to the
+other, her glance rested, on the Stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I Are you the person of whom such extraordinary stories are being
+told? You look it--you must be--you are. George Horley just told me
+he saw you on the Shaldon Road. I don't know how he knew it was you--
+and his manner was most extraordinary--but he's a sharp fellow, and I
+shouldn't be surprised if he was right. Tell me, are you that
+person?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am He that you know not of.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My dear sir, that doesn't matter one iota. What I've heard of you is
+sufficient introduction for me. I don't know if you're aware that
+this field is mine, and that you're trespassing. I'm very particular
+about not allowing the villagers to come in here--they will go after
+the mushrooms. But if you'll take a seat in my carriage I shall be
+very happy to put you up for a day or two. I'm Mrs. Montara, of Weir
+Park. I have some very delightful people staying with me, who will be
+of the greatest service to you in what I understand is your
+propaganda. Most interesting what I've heard of you, I'm sure.' The
+Stranger was silent. 'Well, will you come?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Woman, return to your own place. Leave Me in peace.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't admire your manners, my good man, especially after my going
+out of my way to be civil to you. Is that all the answer you have to
+give?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What have I to do with you, or you with Me? I am not that new thing
+which you seek. I am of old.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He looked at her. The great lady shrank back a little, as if abashed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Whoever you are, I shall be glad to have you as my guest.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am not found in rich women's houses. They are too poor. They offer
+nothing. They seek only to obtain.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I offer you, in the way of hospitality, whatever you may want.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You cannot offer Me the one thing which I desire.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is that?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That you should know Me even as you are known. For unless you know
+Me I have nothing, and less than nothing, and there is nothing in the
+world that is at all to be desired. For if I have come unto Mine own,
+and they know Me not, then My coming indeed is vain. Go! Strip
+yourself and your house, and be ashamed. In the hour of your shame
+come to Me again.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If that's the way you talk to me, get up and leave my field, before
+I have you locked up for trespass.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He stood up, and said to the lame man:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And they went out of the field, and passed through that place without
+staying to eat or drink. In the next village an old woman, who was
+standing at a cottage gate, stopped them as they were passing on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You are tired. Come in and rest.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And they entered into her house. And she gave them food, refusing the
+money which the lame man offered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have a spare bedroom. You can have it if you'd like to stay the
+night, and you'll be kindly welcome.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So they stayed with her that night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And in the morning, while it was yet early, they arose and went upon
+their way. And when they had gone some distance they heard on the
+road behind them the sound of a horse's hoofs. And when they turned,
+they saw that a wagonette was being driven hotly towards them. When,
+on reaching them, it stopped, they saw that it contained five men.
+One, leaning over the side, said to the Stranger:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you he we are looking for?'
+The Stranger replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am He whom you seek.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is,' added a second man, 'you are the individual who is stated
+to have been performing miracles in London?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger only said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am He whom you seek.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In that case,' declared the first speaker, 'we are very fortunate.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He scrambled out on to the road, a short, burly man, with restless
+bright eyes and an iron-gray beard. He wore a soft, round, black felt
+hat, and was untidily dressed. He seemed to be in perpetual movement,
+in striking contrast to the Stranger's immutable calm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Will you come with us in the wagonette?' he demanded. 'Or shall
+we say what we have to say to you here? It is early; we're in the
+heart of the country; no one seems about. If we cross the stile
+which seems to lead into that little copse, we could have no better
+audience-chamber, and need fear no interruption.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Say what you have to say to Me here.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Good! Then, to begin with, we'll introduce ourselves.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His four companions were following each other out of the wagonette.
+As they descended he introduced each one in turn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This is Professor Wilcox Wilson, the pathologist. Professor Wilson
+does not, however, confine himself to one subject, but is interested
+in all live questions of the day; and, while he keeps an open mind,
+seeks to probe into the why and wherefore of all varieties of
+phenomena. This is the Rev. Martin Philipps, the eminent preacher and
+divine, who joins to a liberal theology a far-reaching interest in
+the cause of suffering humanity. Augustus Jebb, perhaps the greatest
+living authority on questions of social science and the welfare of
+the wage-earning classes. John Anthony Gibbs, who may be said to
+represent the religious conscience of England in the present House of
+Commons. I myself am Walter S. Treadman, journalist, student,
+preacher, and, I hope, humanitarian. I only know that where there is
+a cry of pain, there my heart is. I heard that you were in this
+neighbourhood, and lost no time in requesting these gentlemen to
+associate themselves with me in the appeal which I am about to make
+to you. Therefore I beg of you to regard me as, in a sense, a
+deputation from England. Your answer will be given to England. And on
+that account, if no other, we implore you to weigh, with the utmost
+care, any words which you may utter. To come to the point: Do we
+understand you to assert that the feats with which you have set all
+London agape are, in the exact sense of the word, miraculous--that
+is, incapable of a natural interpretation?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why do you speak such words to Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'For an obvious reason. England is at heart religious. Though, for
+the moment, she may seem torpid, it needs but a breath to fan the
+smouldering embers into a mighty blaze which will light the world,
+and herald in the brightness of the eternal dawn. If these things
+which you have done are of God, then you must be of Him, and from
+Him, and may be the bearer of a message to the myriads whose ears are
+strained to listen. Therefore I implore you to answer.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What I have done, I have done not as a sign, nor to be magnified in
+the eyes of men, but to dry the tears which were in their eyes.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then they were miracles. So the question at once assumes another
+phase--Who are you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am He whom you know not of, though you call often on My name.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You are the Christ--the Lord Christ?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Professor Wilson laid his hand on Mr. Treadman's arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You go too fast. No such assertion has been made; no such claim has
+been put forth. I may add that there has been no such outrage on good
+taste.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Rev. Martin Philipps interposed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Good taste is not necessarily outraged by such a claim; or, if it is
+now, it was also at the first. Jesus was a man, such as we are, such
+as this one here.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Jebb agreed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And a labouring man at that. He worked with His own hands--a
+wage-earner if ever there was one.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But,' pleaded the Professor, 'at least something was known of His
+pedigree, of His credentials.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am not so sure of that.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nor I.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'At any rate, let us proceed as if we were reasonable beings, and
+actuated by the dictates of common-sense. Permit me to put one or two
+questions: Are you an Englishman?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am of a country which also you know not of. Thither I return to
+meet Mine own.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your answer is evasive. Allow me to point out, with the greatest
+possible deference, that it is on record how Jesus originally damaged
+His own case by the vagueness of the replies which He gave to
+questions and the want of lucidity which characterised His
+description of Himself. If you claim any, even the remotest,
+connection with Him, let me advise you to avoid His errors.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You know not what you say, you fool of wisdom!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord,' cried Mr. Treadman,' I believe--help Thou my unbelief! I
+believe because faith is the great want of the age, and it shall
+remove mountains; I believe because belief is like the pinch of yeast
+which, being dropped into the dough, leavens the whole. The leaven
+spreads through the whole body politic, so that out of a little thing
+proceeds a great. And, Lord, suffer Thy servant to entreat with Thee.
+Lose no time. Thy people wait--have waited long; they cry aloud; they
+look always for the little speck upon the sky; they lift up their
+hands and beat against heaven's gates. Speak but the word--the one
+word which Thou canst speak so easily! A whole world will leap into
+Thy arms.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Their will, not mine, be done?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nay, Lord, not so--not so! Esteem me not guilty of such presumption;
+but I have lived among them, and have seen how the world labours and
+is in pain, and how Thy people are crushed beneath heavy burdens
+which press them down almost to the confines of the pit. And
+therefore out of the fulness and anguish of my knowledge I cry: Lord,
+come quickly--come quickly! Lose not a moment's time!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your knowledge is greater than Mine?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nay, Lord, I do not say that, nor think it. But Thou art immortal;
+Thy children are mortal--very mortal. I understand the agony of
+longing with which they look for Your presence--Your very presence--
+in their midst.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'They that know Me know that I am ever with them. They that do not
+know Me know not that they see Me before their eyes.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You speak in a spiritual sense, I in a material. I know with what a
+passionate yearning they desire to see you with their mortal eyes,
+flesh of their flesh, bone of their bone--a man like unto
+themselves.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You also seek a sign?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who does not seek a sign? The soldier watches for the sign which
+shows that his general is in command; the child looks for the sign
+which proclaims his parent is at hand; the explorer searches for the
+sign which shows his guide is leading him aright. There is chaos
+where there is no sign.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Did I not say I am He you know not of? Those who know Me need no
+sign.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nor, in that sense, do I need one either. I have been unfortunate in
+my choice of words if I have conveyed the impression that I do.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have suffered you too much.' He turned to the lame man. 'Come!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger and His disciple were continuing on their way when Mr.
+Treadman's companions placed themselves in the path.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mr. Treadman's well-known command of language,' explained the
+Professor, 'is likely to obscure the purpose of our presence here. We
+have come to ask you to accompany us to town as our guest, and to
+avail yourself of our services in placing, in the most efficient and
+practical manner possible, your views and wishes before the country
+as a whole.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In other words,' observed the Rev. Martin Philipps, 'we are here as
+the Lord's servants, desirous to do His work and His will.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Having at heart,' continued Mr. Jebb, 'the welfare--spiritual,
+moral, and physical--of the struggling millions.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Acting also,' added Mr. Gibbs, 'as the mouthpiece of Christ's
+kingdom as it exists in our native land.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Professor's tone, as he commented on his colleagues' remarks, was
+a little grim.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What my friends say is, no doubt, very excellent in its way; but the
+main point still is--Will you come with us? If so, here is a
+conveyance. You have only to jump in at once, and we shall be in time
+to catch a fast train back to town. My strong advice to you is, Be
+practical, and come.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Suffer Me to go My way.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is that your answer? Remember that history records how, on a
+previous occasion, a great opportunity was frittered away for lack of
+a little business acumen. There can be no doubt that the great need
+of the hour is a practical religion. It is quite within the range of
+possibility that you might go far towards placing such a propaganda
+on a solid basis. Consider, therefore; before you treat our offer
+with contempt.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He made no answer, but went along the road, with the lame man at His
+side.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For some seconds the deputation stood staring after Him. Then the
+Professor gave expression to his feelings in these words:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'An impracticable person.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Rev. Martin Philipps had something to say on this curt summing up
+of the position.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I think, Professor, that what you call practicality is likely to be
+your stumbling-block. In your sense, God is not always practical.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In a country of practical men that is unfortunate.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'When you say practical you mean material. There is something higher
+than materiality.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The material and the spiritual, Philipps, are more closely allied
+than you may suppose. It is useless to ask a mere man to give primary
+attention to his spiritual wants when, in a material sense, he lacks
+everything. To formulate such a demand, even by inference, is to play
+into the hands of the plutocracy.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Still,' remarked Mr. Gibbs,' I think there might have been more said
+of the things of the soul, and less of the things of the body. It is
+the soul of England we are here to plead for, not its mere corporeal
+husk.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While they talked Mr. Treadman stood looking after the retreating
+Stranger. Suddenly he started running, calling as he went:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, Lord, suffer that I may come with You!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He went on, with the lame man at His side, and Mr. Treadman at His
+heels, calling persistently: 'Suffer that I may come with You!' until
+presently He turned, saying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why do you continue to entreat that I should suffer you? Have I
+forbidden you to come?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For a time Mr. Treadman was still. But continually he broke again
+into speech, talking of this thing and of that.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But there was none that answered him.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">THE SECOND DISCIPLE</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">They lay that night at the house of a certain curate, who stopped the
+Stranger, saying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You are he of whom I have heard?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is the Lord--the Lord Christ! He has come again!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger rebuked Mr. Treadman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Peace! Why do you trouble Me with your babbling tongue?' To the
+curate He said: 'What do you want of Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nothing but to offer you shelter for the night. I cannot give you
+much, for I am poor, and have a small house and a large family, but
+such as I have is at your service. Not that I wish you to understand
+that my action marks my approval of your proceedings, of which, as I
+say, I have heard. For I am an ordained priest of the Church of
+England, and have sufficient trouble with dissent and such-like fads
+already. But I am a Christian, and, I trust, a gentleman, and in that
+dual capacity would not wish one of whom I have heard such remarkable
+things to remain in need of shelter when near my house.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So they went with the curate. But the family was found to be so
+large, and the house so small, that there was not room within its
+walls for three unexpected guests. So it was arranged that they would
+sleep in the loft over the stable where hay was kept. Thither, after
+supper, the Stranger and the lame man repaired. But Mr. Treadman
+remained talking to the host.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They stood outside the house in the moonlight, looking towards the
+loft in which the Stranger sought slumber.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is a good man,' said the curate, 'and a strange one. He has
+filled my mind with curious thoughts.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is the Lord! said Mr. Treadman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The Lord?' The curate regarded the speaker with a peculiar smile.
+'Are you mad, sir? Or do you think I am?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is the Lord!' Mr. Treadman held out his clenched fists in front
+of him, as if to add weight to his assertion. 'I know it of a
+surety!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Does it not occur to you what an awful thing it would be if what you
+say were true?' Awful? How awful?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'When He came before He found them unprepared--so unprepared that
+they could not believe it was He. What would it not mean if, at His
+Second Coming, He found us still unready? He might be moving among
+us, and we not know it; we might meet Him in the street, and pass Him
+by. The human mind is not at its best when it is wholly unprepared:
+it cannot twist itself hither and thither without even a moment's
+notice. And our civilisation is so complex that the first result of
+an unexpected Advent would be to plunge it into chaos. Saints and
+sinners alike would be thrown off their balance. There would be a
+carnival of confusion. The tragedy which rings down the ages might be
+re-enacted. Christ might be crucified again by Christian hands.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We must avoid it! We must avoid it! We must prepare the people's
+minds; we must let them know that His reign is about to begin. They
+need but the knowledge to fill the world with songs of gladness.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You really believe your friend is a supernatural being?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is the Lord! I know it of a surety! You call yourself His
+minister. Is it possible you do not know Him, too?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No; I do not. For one thing, I do not think that, really and truly,
+I have ever contemplated the possibility of such an occurrence. To me
+the Second Coming has been an abstraction--a nebulous something that
+would not happen in my time. Yet he troubles me, the more so since I
+remember that good men must have stood in His presence aforetime, and
+yet not have known Him for what He was, although He troubled them.
+However, it may be written to the good of my account that for your
+friend I have done what I could.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The curate returned into his house. But it was long before Mr.
+Treadman sought the shelter of the loft. He passed here and there in
+an agony of mind which grew greater as the night went on. By the
+light of the waning moon he wrought himself into a frenzy of
+supplication.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'O Lord, I say it in no spirit of irreverence, but in a sense, You do
+not understand the idiosyncrasies and character of those to whom You
+are about to appeal. To come to them unheralded, to move about among
+them unannounced, will be useless--ah, and worse than useless! O
+Lord, do not take them by surprise. Sound, at least, one trumpet
+blast. Come to them as You should come--as their Christ and King. It
+needs such a very little, and You will have them at Your feet. Do not
+lose all for want of such a little. Let me tell them You are on the
+way, that You are here, that You are in their very midst. Let me be
+John Baptist. I promise You that I shall not be a voice crying in the
+wilderness, but that at the proclamation of the tidings, trumpeted by
+all the presses of the land, and from ten thousand pulpits, from all
+the cities and the villages will issue happy, hot-footed crowds,
+eager to look upon the face they have had pictured in their hearts
+their whole lives long, and on the form they have yearned to see,
+filled with but one desire--to lay themselves at the feet of their
+Christ and King! But, Lord, if no one tells them You are here, how
+shall they know it? They are but foolish folk, fashioned as Thou
+knowest they are fashioned. If You come upon them at the market or
+the meeting, and take them unawares, they will not know that it is
+You. Suffer me first to spread the glad tidings through all the land.
+I have but to put a plain statement on the wires, and foot it with my
+name, and there is not a newspaper in an English-speaking country
+which will not give it a prominent place in its morning's issue.
+Suffer me at least to do so much as that.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The figure of the Stranger appeared at the door which led into the
+loft; and He spoke to Mr. Treadman, saying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You know not what are the things of which you speak, as is the
+manner of men. Are you, then, so ignorant as not to be aware that
+God's ways are not as men's? Let your soul cease from troubling. God
+asks not to learn of you. He made you; He holds you in the hollow of
+His hand; you are the dust of the balance. Come, and sleep.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman went up into the loft, crying like a child. Almost as
+soon as he laid himself down among the sweetness of the hay his tears
+were dried, and his eyes were closed in slumber. And he and the lame
+man slept together.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the Stranger sought not sleep. Through the night He did not close
+His eyes. As the day came near He stood looking down upon the
+sleepers. And His face was sorrowful.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Men are but little children: if they had but the heart of a child!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And He went down the loft out into the morning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And presently the lame man woke up and found that he was alone with
+Mr. Treadman. So he began to scramble down the ladder. As he went,
+because of his haste and his lameness, he stumbled and fell. The
+noise of his fall woke Mr. Treadman, who hurried down the ladder
+also. At the foot he found the lame man, who was rising to his feet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you hurt?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I think not. I am only shaken. The Lord has gone!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Gone! Lean on me. We will find Him.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The two went out into the lifting shadows, the lame man on Mr.
+Treadman's arm. The country was covered by a morning mist. It was
+damp and cold. The light was puzzling. Mr. Treadman looked to the
+right and left.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Which way can He have gone?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There! there He is! I see Him on the road. My leg is better; let us
+hasten. We shall catch Him.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No. Do not let us catch Him. Let us follow and see which way He
+goes. I have a reason.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But He will know you are following, and your reason.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'May be. Still let us follow.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman had his way. They followed at a distance. As was his
+habit, Mr. Treadman talked as he went.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is strange that He should try to leave us like this, when He
+knows that we would leave no stone unturned to follow Him, through
+life, to death.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is not strange. He does nothing strange.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You think not?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'How can the Lord of all the earth do wrong?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There is something in that.' Mr. Treadman was still for a time. 'Yet
+He runs a great risk of wrecking His entire cause.' The lame man said
+nothing. 'It is necessary that the people should be told that He is
+coming, that their minds should be prepared. If they have authentic
+information of His near neighbourhood, then He will triumph at once
+and for always. If not--if He comes on them informally, unheralded,
+unannounced, then there will be a frightful peril of His cause being
+again dragged in the mire.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet the lame man said nothing. But Mr. Treadman continued to talk,
+apparently careless of the fact that he had the conversation to
+himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When they came to a place where there were cross-roads, and Mr.
+Treadman saw which way He went, he caught the lame man by the arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I thought as much! He's heading for London.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Taking out a note-book, he began to write in it with a fountain pen,
+still continuing to walk and to talk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I know this country well. There's a telegraph-office about a mile
+along the road. It ought to be open by the time we get there. If it
+isn't, I'll rouse them up. I'll send word to some friends of mine--
+men and women whose lifelong watchword has been God and His gospel--
+that He is coming. They will run to meet Him. They will bring with
+them some of the brightest spirits now living; and He will have a
+foretaste of that triumph which, if matters are properly organised,
+awaits Him. He shall enter on His inheritance as the Christ and King,
+and pain, sin, sorrow, shall cease throughout the world, if He will
+but suffer me to make clear the way. Tell me, my friend,--you don't
+appear to be a loquacious soul,--don't you think that to be prepared
+is half the battle?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the lame man made no reply. He only kept his eyes fixed on the
+Figure which went in front.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His companion's irresponsive mood did not appear to trouble Mr.
+Treadman. He never ceased to talk and write, except when he broke
+into the words of a hymn, which he sung in a loud, clear voice, as if
+he wished that all the country-side should hear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There,' he cried, after they had gone some distance, 'is the place I
+told you of. The village is just round the bend in the road. If I
+remember rightly, the post-office is on the left as you enter. Soon
+the telegraph shall be on the side of the Lord, and the glad tidings
+be flashing up to town. We're not twenty miles from London. Within an
+hour a reception committee should be on the way. Before noon many
+longing eyes will have looked with knowledge on the face of the Lord;
+and joyful hearts shall sing: &quot;Hosanna in the highest! Hallelujah!
+Christ has come!&quot;'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On their coming to the village Mr. Treadman made haste to the
+post-office. It was not yet open. He began a violent knocking at the
+door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I must rouse them up. Official hours are as nothing in such a case
+as this. I must get my messages upon the wires at once, whatever it
+may cost.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lame man made all haste to reach the Stranger that went in front,
+passing alone through the quiet village street.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>II</h1>
+
+<h1><a name="div1_tumult" href="#div1Ref_tumult">The Tumult which Arose</a></h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">THE CHARCOAL-BURNER</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">When Mr. Treadman had brought the post-office to a consciousness of
+his presence, and induced the postmaster, with the aid of copious
+bribes, to do what he desired, some time had passed. On his return
+into the street neither the Stranger nor the lame man was in sight.
+At this, however, he was little concerned, making sure of the way
+they had gone, and of his ability to catch them up. But after he had
+gone some distance, at the top of his speed, and still saw no sign of
+the One he sought, he began to be troubled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'They might have waited. The Lord knew that I was engaged upon His
+work. Why has He thus left me in the lurch?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A cart approached. He hailed the driver.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Have you seen, as you came along, two persons walking along the road
+towards London?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Ay; about half a mile ahead.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Half a mile! So much as that! I shall never catch them if I walk.
+You will have to give me a lift, and make all haste after them.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He began to bargain with the driver, who, agreeing to his terms,
+permitted him to climb into his cart, and turning his horse's head,
+set off after those of whom he had spoken. But they were nowhere to
+be seen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It was here I passed them.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Probably they are a little further on. Drive more quickly. We shall
+see them in a minute. The winding road hides them, and the hedges.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The driver did as he was bid. But though he went on and on, he saw
+nothing of those whom he was seeking. Mr. Treadman began to be
+alarmed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is a most extraordinary thing. Where can He have got to? Is it
+possible that that lame fellow can have told Him of the message I was
+sending, and that He has purposely given me the slip? If so, I shall
+be placed in an embarrassing position. These people are sure to come.
+Mrs. Powell and Gifford will be off in an instant. They have been
+looking for the Lord too long not to make all haste to see Him now.
+For all I know, they may bring half London with them. If they find
+they have come for nothing, the situation will be awkward. My
+reputation will be damaged. I ask it with all possible reverence, but
+why is the Lord so little mindful of His own?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The driver stopped his horse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You must get out here. I must go back. I'll be late as it is.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Go back! My man, you must press forward. It is for the Lord that I
+am looking.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The Lord Christ. He has come to us again, this time to win the world
+as a whole, and for ever; and by some frightful accident I have
+allowed Him to pass out of my sight.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I've heard tell of something of the kind. But I don't take no count
+of such things. There's some as does; but I'm not one. I tell you you
+must get out. I'm more than late enough already.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Left stranded in the middle of the road, Mr. Treadman stared after
+the retreating carter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The man has no spiritual side; he's a mere brute! In this age of
+Christianity and its attendant civilisation, it's wonderful that such
+creatures should continue to exist. If there are many such, it is a
+hard task which He has set before Him. He will need all the help
+which we can give. Why, then, does he seem to slight the efforts of
+His faithful servant? I don't know what will happen if those people
+find that they have come from town for nothing. His cause may receive
+an almost irreparable injury at the very start.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Those people came. The messages with which he troubled the wires were
+of a nature to induce them to come. There was Mrs. Miriam Powell,
+whose domestic unhappiness has not prevented her from doing such good
+work among fallen women, that it is surprising how their numbers
+still continue to increase. And there was Harvey Gifford, the founder
+of that Christian Assistance Society which has done such incalculable
+service in providing cheap entertainments for the people, and which
+ceaselessly sends to the chief Continental pleasure resorts hordes of
+persons, in the form of popular excursions, whose manners and customs
+are hardly such as are even popularly associated with Christianity.
+When these two Christian workers received Mr. Treadman's telegram,
+phrased in the quaint Post-Office fashion--'Christ is coming to
+London the Christ I have seen him and am with him and I know he is
+here walking on the highroad come to him and let your eyes be
+gladdened meet him if possible between Guildford and Ripley I will
+endeavour to induce him to come that way about eleven spread the glad
+tidings so that he enters London as one that comes into his own this
+is the Lord's doing this is the day of the Lord we triumph all along
+the line the stories told of his miracles are altogether inadequate
+state that positively to all inquirers as from me no more can be said
+within the limits of a telegram for your soul's sake fail not to be
+on the Ripley road in time the faithful servant of the Lord--
+Treadman'--their minds were made up on the instant. London was
+ringing with inchoate rumours. Scarcely within living memory had the
+public mind been in a state of more curious agitation. The truth or
+falsehood of the various statements which were made was the subject
+of general controversy. Where two or three were gathered together,
+there was discussed the topic of the hour. It seemed, from Treadman's
+telegram, that he of whom the tales were told was coming back in
+town, which he had quitted in such mysterious fashion. It seemed that
+Treadman himself actually believed he was the Christ.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Could two such single-minded souls, in the face of such a message,
+delay from making all haste in the direction of the Ripley road?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet before they went, and as they went, they did their best to spread
+the tidings. Mr. Treadman had done his best to spread them too. He
+had sent messages to heads of the Salvation and Church Armies, and of
+the various great religious societies, to ministers of all degrees
+and denominations, and, indeed, to everyone of whom, in his haste, he
+could think as being, in a religious or philanthropic, or, in short,
+in any sense, in that curious place--the public eye.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And presently various specimens of these persons were on their way to
+the Ripley road--some journeying by train, some on foot, some on
+horseback; a large number, both men and women, upon bicycles, and
+others in as heterogeneous a collection of vehicles as one might wish
+to see. Sundry battalions of the Salvation Army confided themselves
+to vans such as are used for beanfeasts and Sunday-School treats.
+They shouted hymns; their bands made music by the way.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He whom all these people were coming out to see had gone with the
+lame man across a field-path to a little wood, which lay not far from
+the road. In the centre of the wood they found a clearing, where the
+charcoal-burners had built their huts and plied their trade. An old
+man watched the smouldering heap. He sat on some billets of wood, one
+of which he was carving with a clumsy knife. The Stranger found a
+seat upon another heap, and the lame man placed himself, cobbler
+fashion, upon the turf at His side. For some moments nothing was
+said. Then the old man broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Strangers hereabouts?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My abiding-place is not here.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'So I thought. I fancied I hadn't seen you round about these parts;
+yet there's something about you I seem to know. Come in here to
+rest?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is good to rest.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's so; there's nothing like it when you're tired. You look as if
+you was tired, and you look as if you'd known trouble. There's a
+comfortable look upon your face which never comes upon a man or
+woman's face unless they have known trouble. I always says that no
+one's any good until it shines out of their eyes.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sorrow and joy walk hand in hand.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's it: they walk hand in hand, and you never know one till
+you've known the other, just as you never know what health is till
+you've had to go without it. Do you see what I'm doing here? I'm a
+charcoal-burner by trade, but by rights I ought to have been a
+wood-carver. There's few men can do more with a knife and a bit of
+wood than I can. All them as knows me knows it. That's a cross I'm
+carving. My daughter's turned religious, and she's a fancy that I
+should cut her a cross to hang in her room, so that, as she says, she
+can always think of Christ crucified. To me that's a queer start. I
+always think of Him as Christ crowned.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He is crowned.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Of course He is. As I put it, what He done earned Him the V.C. It's
+with that cross upon His breast I like to think of Him. In what He
+done I can't see what people see to groan about. It was something to
+glory in, to be proud of.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He was crucified by those to whom He came.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There is that. They must have been a silly lot, them Jews. They
+didn't know what they was doing of.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Which man knows what he does, or will let God know, either?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's a sure and certain thing that some of us ain't over and above
+wise. There do be a good many fools about. I mind that I said to my
+daughter a good score times: &quot;Don't you have that Jim Bates.&quot; But she
+would. Now he's took himself off and she's took to religion. It's a
+true fact she didn't know what she was doing of when she had him.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Did Jim Bates know what he was doing?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I shouldn't be surprised but what he didn't. He never did know much,
+did Jim. It isn't everyone as can live with my daughter, as he had
+ought to have known. She's kept house for me these twelve year, so I
+do know. She always were a contrary piece, she were.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The world is full of discords, but He who plays upon it tunes one
+note after another. In the end it will be all in tune.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There's a good many of us as'll wish that we was deaf before that
+time comes.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Because many men are deaf they take no heed of the harmonies.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There's something in that. I shouldn't wonder but what there's a lot
+of music as no one notices. The more you speak, the more I seem to
+know you. You're like a voice I've heard talking to me when the
+speaker was hid by the darkness.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have spoken to you often.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Ay, I believe you have. I thought I knew you from the first. I felt
+so comfortable when you came. All the morning I've been troubled,
+what with worries at home and the pains what seems all over me, so
+that I can't move about as I did use to; and then when I saw you
+coming along the path all the trouble was at an end.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I heard you calling as I passed along the road.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You heard me calling? Why, I never opened my mouth!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Not the words of the lips are heard in heaven, but none ever called
+from his heart in vain.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The charcoal-burner rose from his heap of billets.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why, who are you?' He came closer, peering with his dim eyes. 'It is
+the Lord! What an old fool I am not to have known You from the first!
+Yet I felt that it was You.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You know Me, although you knew Me not.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And me that's known You all my life, and my old woman what knew You
+too! Anyhow, I'd have seen You before long.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You have seen Me from the first.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Not plain--not plain. I've heard You, and I've known that You was
+there, but I haven't seen You as I've tried to. You know the sort of
+chap I am--a silly old fool what's been burning since I was a little
+nipper. I ain't no scholar. The likes of me didn't have no schooling
+when I was young, and I ain't no hand at words; but You know how I'm
+all of a twitter, and there ain't no words what will tell how glad I
+am to see You. Like the silly old jackass that I am, I'm a-cryin'!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger stood up, holding out His hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Friend!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The charcoal-burner put his gnarled, knotted, and now trembling hand
+into the Stranger's palm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord! Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'So often I have heard you call upon My Name.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Ay, in the morning when the day was young; at noon, when the work
+was heavy; at night, when rest had come. Youth and man, You've been
+with me all the time, and with my old woman, too.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'She and I met long since.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My old woman! She was a good one to me, she was.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And to Me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A better wife no man could have. It weren't all lavender, her life
+wasn't, but it smelt just as sweet as if it were.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The perfume of it ascended into heaven.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My temper, it be short. There were days when I was sharp with her.
+She'd wait till it was over, and me ashamed, and then she'd say:
+&quot;Each time, William, you be in a passion it do bring you nearer to
+the Lord.&quot; I'd ask her how she made that out, and she'd say: &quot;'Tis
+like a bit of 'lastic, William. When you pulls it the ends get drawed
+apart, but when you lets it go again, the ends come closer than they
+was before. When you be in a passion, William, you draws yourself
+away from the Lord's end; when your passion be over, back you goes
+with a rush, until you meets Him plump. Only,&quot; she'd say, &quot;don't you
+draw away too often, lest the 'lastic break.&quot; I never could tell if
+she were laughing at me, or if she weren't. But I do know she did
+make me feel terrible ashamed. I used to wonder if the Lord's temper
+ever did go short.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The Lord is like unto men--He knows both grief and anger.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Seems to me as how He wouldn't be the Lord if He didn't. He feels
+what we feels, or how'd He be able to help us?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The Lord and His children are of one family. Did you not know that?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I knowed it. But there's them as thinks the Lord's a fine gentleman,
+what's always a-looking you up and down, and that you ain't never to
+come near Him without your best clothes and your company manners on.
+Seems to me the Lord don't only want to know you now and then, He
+wants to know you right along. If you can't go to Him because you be
+mucked with charcoal, it be bitter hard.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You know you can.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I do know you can, I do. When I've been as black as black can be
+I've felt Him just as close as in the chapel Sundays.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The Lord is not here or there, in the house or in the field; He is
+with His children.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Hebe that! He be!'.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">A TRIUMPHAL ENTRY</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The people came to meet the Lord upon the Ripley road, and they were
+not a few.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The first that found Mr. Treadman were Mrs. Powell and Harvey
+Gifford. They took a fly from the station, bidding the driver drive
+straight on. Nor had they gone far before they came on Mr. Treadman
+sitting on a gate. They cried to him:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is the meaning of your telegram?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It means that the Lord has come again, in very surety and very
+truth.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you in earnest?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Did they not ask that question of the prophets? Were they in
+earnest? Then am I.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But where is He?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He has given me the slip.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Given you the slip? What do you mean?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman explained. While he did so, others arrived, men and
+women of all sorts, ranks, and ages. They were agog with curiosity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What like is He to look at? Does the sight of Him blind, as it did
+Moses?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nothing of the sort. He is just an ordinary man, like you and me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'An ordinary man! Then how can you tell it is the Lord?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He is not to be mistaken. You cannot be in His presence twenty
+seconds without being sure of it.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But--I don't understand! I thought that when He came again it was to
+be with legions of angels, in pomp and glory, to be the Judge of all
+the earth.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The Jews looked for a material display. They thought He was to come
+in Majesty. And because, to their unseeing eyes, He appeared as one
+of themselves, in their disappointment they nailed Him upon a tree.
+Oh, my friends, don't let a similar mistake be ours! That is the
+awful, immeasurable peril which already stares us in the face.
+Because, in His infinite wisdom, for reasons which are beyond our
+ken, and, perhaps, beyond our comprehension, He has again chosen to
+put on the guise of our common manhood, let us not, on that account,
+the less rejoice to see Him, nor let us fail to do Him all possible
+honour. He has come again unto His children; let His children receive
+Him with shouts and with Hosannas. It is possible, when He perceives
+how complete is His dominion over your hearts and minds, that He will
+be pleased to manifest Himself in that splendour of Godhead for which
+I know some of you have been confidently looking. Only, until that
+hour comes, let us not fail to do reverence to the God in man.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But where is He? You told us to meet Him on the Ripley road. How can
+we do Him reverence if we do not know where He is?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The question came in different forms from many throats. The crowd had
+grown. The people were eager.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A boy threaded his way among them. He addressed himself to Mr.
+Treadman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Please, sir, there's someone in the wood with Mr. Bates. When I took
+Mr. Bates his dinner he called him &quot;Lord.&quot;'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Presently the crowd were following the boy. He led them some little
+distance along the road, and then across a field into a wood. There
+they came upon the Stranger and the charcoal-burner eating together,
+seated side by side; and the lame man also ate with them, sitting on
+the ground. Mr. Treadman cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, we have found You again!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He looked at the people, asking:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who are these?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They are Your children--Your faithful, loving, eager children, who
+have come to give You greeting.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My children? There are many that call themselves My children that I
+know not of.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, my friends, this is the Lord! Rejoice and give thanks. Many are
+the days of the years in which you have watched for Him, and waited,
+and He has come to you at last.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For the most part the people were still. There were some that pressed
+forward, but more that hung back. For now that they came near to the
+Stranger's presence they began to be afraid. Yet Mrs. Powell went
+close to Him, asking:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you in very deed the Lord?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you of the children of the Lord?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She drew a little back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I do not know Him; I do not know Him! Yet I am afraid.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Love casteth out fear; but where there is no love, there fear is.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She drew still more away, saying again:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am afraid.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman explained:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We are here to meet You, Lord, and to entreat You to let us come
+with You to London.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why should you come with Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Because we are Your children.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My children!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yes, Lord, Your children, each in his or her own fashion, but each
+with his or her whole heart. And because we are Your children, we are
+here to meet You--many of us at no slight personal inconvenience--to
+keep You company on the way, so that by our testimony we may begin to
+make it known that the Lord has come again to be the Judge of all the
+earth.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What know you of the why and wherefore of My coming?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Actually nothing. But I am very sure You are here for some great and
+good purpose, and trust, before long, to prove myself worthy of the
+Divine confidence. In the meantime I implore You to suffer those who
+are here assembled to accompany You as a guard of honour, so that You
+may make, though in a rough-and-ready fashion, a triumphant entry
+into that great city which is the capital of Your kingdom here on
+earth.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I will come with you.' To the lame man and to the
+charcoal-burner He said: 'Come also.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He went with them. And when they came into the road nothing would
+content Mr. Treadman but that He should get into the fly which had
+brought Mrs. Powell and Mr. Gifford from the station. The lame man
+and the charcoal-burner rode with Him. As Mr. Treadman was preparing
+to mount upon the box Mrs. Powell came.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What am I to do? I cannot walk all the way. It is too far.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Get in also. There is room.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She shuddered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I dare not--I am afraid.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So the fly went on without her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As they went the bands played and the people sang hymns. There were
+some that shouted texts of Scripture and all manner of things. In the
+towns and villages folk came running out to learn what was the cause
+of all the hubbub.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is it?' they cried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman standing up would shout: 'It is the Lord! He has come to
+us again! Rejoice and give thanks. Come, all ye that are weary and
+heavy laden, for He has brought you rest.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They pressed round the fly, so that it could scarcely move.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In a certain place a great man who was driving with his wife, when he
+saw the crowd and heard what they were saying, was angry, crying with
+a loud voice:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What ribaldry is this? What blasphemous words are these you utter? I
+am ashamed to think that Englishmen should behave in such a fashion.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman answered:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You foolish man! you don't know what it is you say. Yours is the
+shame, not ours. It is the Lord in very deed!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The other, still more angry, caused his coachman to place his
+carriage close beside the fly, intending to reprimand Him whom he
+supposed to be the cause of the commotion. But when he saw the
+Stranger he was silent. His wife cried: 'It is the Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She went quickly from the carriage to the fly. When she reached it
+she fell on her knees, hiding her face on the seat at the Stranger's
+side.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You have my son, my only son!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Be comforted. Your son I know and you I know. To neither of you
+shall any harm come.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her husband called to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you mad? What is the meaning of this extraordinary behaviour? Do
+you wish to cause a public scandal?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She answered:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is the Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But her husband commanded her:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come back into the carriage!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, let me stay with You. You have my boy; where my boy is I would
+be also.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Return unto your husband. You shall stay with Me although you return
+to him.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She went back into the carriage weeping bitterly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The news of the strange procession which was coming went on in front.
+All the way were people waiting, so that the crowd grew more and
+more. All that came had to make room for it, waiting till the press
+was gone. Though the way was long, but few seemed to tire. Those that
+were at the first continued to the end, the bands playing almost
+without stopping, and the people singing hymns.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">By the time they neared London it was evening. The throng had grown
+so great the authorities began to be concerned. Policemen lined the
+roads, ready if necessary to preserve order. But their services were
+not needed, as Mr. Treadman proclaimed:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Constables, we are, glad to see you. Representatives of the law, He
+who comes is the Lord. Therefore shout Hosanna with the best of us
+and give Him greeting.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Presently someone pressed a piece of paper into his hand on which was
+written:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">'If the Lord would but stay this night in the house of the chief of
+sinners.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:50%">'<span class="sc">Miriam Powell</span>.'</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">He took a pencil from his pocket, and wrote beneath:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">'He shall stay in your house this night, thou daughter of the Lord.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:60%">'W. S. T.'</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">From his seat on the box Mr. Treadman leaned over towards the fly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, I entreat You to honour with Your presence the habitation of
+Your very daughter, Miriam Powell, whose good works, done in Your
+name, shine in the eyes of all men.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Thy will, not Mine, be done!' Mr. Treadman shouted to the people:
+'My friends, I am authorised by the Lord to announce that He will
+rest in the house of His faithful servant, Miriam Powell, whose name,
+as a single-minded labourer in Christ's vineyard, is so well-known to
+all of you. To mark our sense of His appreciation of the manner in
+which Mrs. Powell has borne the heat and burden of the day, let us
+join in singing that beautiful hymn which has comforted so many of us
+when the hours of darkness were drawing nigh, &quot;Abide with me, fast
+fall the eventide.&quot;'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Powell's house was in Maida Vale. It was late when the
+procession arrived. Even then it was some time before the fly could
+gain the house itself. The crowd had been recruited from a less
+desirable element since its advent in the streets of London, and this
+reinforcement was disposed to show something of its more disreputable
+side. The vehicle, with its weary horse and country driver, had to
+force its way through a scuffling, howling mob. For some moments it
+looked as if, unless the police arrived immediately in great force,
+there would be mischief done; until the Stranger, standing up in the
+fly, raised His hand, saying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I pray you, be still.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And they were still. And He passed through the midst of them, with
+the charcoal-burner and the lame man. Mr. Treadman came after.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When He entered the house, He sighed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now Mrs. Powell, when she had learned that the Stranger was to be her
+guest, had hastened home to make ready for His coming, so that the
+table was set for a meal. But when He saw that there was a place for
+only one, He asked:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is this? Is there none that would eat with me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman answered:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nay, Lord, there is none that is worthy. Suffer us first to wait
+upon You. Then afterwards we will eat also.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Does not a father eat with his children? Are they not of him? If
+there is any in this house that calls upon My name, let him sit down
+with me and eat.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So they sat down and ate together. While they continued at
+table but little was said; for the day had been a long one, and they
+were weary. When they had eaten, the Stranger was shown into the best
+room, where was a bed which offered a pleasant resting-place for
+tired limbs. But He did not lie on it, nor sought repose, but went
+here and there about the room, as if His mind were troubled. And He
+cried aloud:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Father, is it for this I came?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the street were heard the voices of the people, and those that
+cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Christ has come again!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And in the best room of the house the Stranger wept, lamenting:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have come unto Mine own, and Mine own know Me not. They make a
+mock of Me, and say, He shall be as we would have Him; we will not
+have Him as He is. They have made unto themselves graven images, not
+fashioned alike, but each an image of his own, and each would have Me
+to be like unto the image which he has made. For they murmur among
+themselves: It is we that have made God; it is not God that has made
+us.'</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">THE WORDS OF THE WISE</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">There began to be in London that night a feeling of unrest. A sense
+of uncertainty came into men's minds, a desire to find answers to the
+questions which each asked of the other:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who is this man? Who does he pretend to be? Where does he come from?
+What does he want?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the minds of some that last inquiry assumed a different form. They
+asked, of their own hearts, if not of one another:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why has he come to trouble us?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The usual showed signs of the unusual. In a great city a divergence
+from the normal means disturbance; which is to be avoided. When the
+multitude is strongly stirred by a consciousness of the abnormal in
+its midst, to someone, or to something, it means danger. Order is not
+preserved by authority, but by tradition. A suspicion that events are
+about to happen which are contrary to established order shakes that
+tradition, with the immediate result that confusion threatens.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was that night hardly one person who was not conscious of more
+or less vague mental disturbance. There were those who at once leaped
+to the conclusion that the words of Scripture, as they interpreted
+them, were about to receive complete illustration. There were others
+whose theological outlook was capable of less mathematically accurate
+definition, who were yet in doubt as to whether some supernatural
+being might not have appeared among men. There was that large class
+which, having no logical grounds for expectation, is always looking
+for the unexpected, ever eager to believe it is upon them. The
+members of this class are not interested in current theories of a
+deity; they are indifferent whether God is or is not. The phrase 'a
+Second Coming' conveyed no meaning to their minds. They would welcome
+any new thing, whether it was Christ Jesus or Tom Fool; though, when
+they realised who Christ Jesus was, their preference would be
+strongly in favour of Tom Fool. It was, for the most part,
+individuals of this sort who bent their steps towards the house in
+which the Stranger was, and, by way of diversion, loitered in its
+neighbourhood throughout the night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the house itself a consultation was being held. Various persons
+who take a notorious interest in subjects of the hour were gathered
+together, like bees about a flower, desirous to extract from the
+occasion such honey as they could. Mr. Treadman, who presided, had
+explained to the meeting, in words which burned, what a matter of
+capital importance it was which had brought them there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Professor Wilcox Wilson displayed his usual fondness for destructive
+criticism.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Our friend Treadman speaks of the frightful consequences
+which would attend an only partial recognition of the Lord's
+divinity. He says nothing of the at least equally bad results which
+would ensue from giving credit to an impostor. Apart from the fact
+that there are those who are still in doubt as to which portion of
+the New Testament narrative is to be regarded as mythical----'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman sprang to his feet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mr. Wilson, this meeting is for believers only. We are not here for
+an academical discussion; we are here as children of Christ.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Quite so. I, also, am anxious to be a child of Christ. I only say,
+with another, &quot;Help Thou my unbelief.&quot; It seems to me that the
+personage whom we will call our distinguished visitor----'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Wilson, sit down! In my presence you shall not speak with such
+flippancy of the Lord Christ. It is to protest against such frames of
+mind that we are here. Don't you realise that He who is in the room
+above us has but to lift His little finger to lay you dead?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It would prove nothing if he did; certainly not that he is the Lord
+Christ. My dear Treadman, let me ask you seriously to consider
+whether you propose to conduct your crusade on logical lines or as
+creatures of impulse. If it is as the latter you intend to figure,
+you will do an incalculable amount of mischief. The Lord who made us
+is aware of our deficiencies. He is responsible for them.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No! No!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who, then, is? Is there a greater than God? Do you blaspheme? He
+knows that He has given us, as one of the strongest passions of our
+nature, a craving for demonstrable proof. If this is shown in little
+things, then how much more in greater! If you want it proved that two
+and two are five, then are you not equally desirous of having it
+clearly established that a wandering stranger has claims to call
+himself divine? So put, the question answers itself. If this man is
+God, he will have no difficulty in demonstrating the fact beyond all
+possibility of doubt; and he will demonstrate it, for he knows that
+human nature, for which he is responsible, requires such
+demonstration. If he does not, then rest assured he is no God.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Jebb stood up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What sort of proof does Professor Wilson require? What amount would
+he esteem sufficient? Would he expect that the demonstration should
+be repeated in the case of each separate individual? I put these
+questions, feeling that the Professor has possibly his own point of
+view, because it is asserted that miracles have taken place. A large
+body of apparently trustworthy evidence testifies to the fact. I am
+bound to admit that my own researches go to show that the occurrences
+in question are at least extra-natural. Does the Professor suggest
+that any power short of what we call Divine can go outside nature?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Professor replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I will be candid, and confess that it is because the events referred
+to are of so extraordinary a nature that I am in this galley. I have
+hitherto seen no reason to doubt that everything which has happened
+in cosmogony is capable of a natural explanation. If I am to admit
+the miraculous, I find myself confronted by new conditions, on which
+account I ask this worker of wonders to show who and what he is.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He has already shown Himself to be more than man.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I grant that he has shown himself to be a remarkable person. But it
+does not by any means therefore follow that he is the Son of God, the
+Christ of tradition.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman broke into the discussion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He has shown Himself to me to be the Christ.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But how? that's what I don't understand. How?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Wilson, pray that one day He may show Himself to you before it is
+too late. Pray! pray! then you'll understand the how, wherefore, and
+why, though you'll still not be able to express them in the terms of
+a scientific formula.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Professor shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is the sort of talk which has been responsible for the
+superstition which has been the world's greatest bane. The votaries
+of the multifarious varieties of hanky-panky have always shown a
+distaste for the cold, dry light of truth, which is all that science
+is.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Jebb smiled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am not so exigent as the Professor. I recognise the presence in
+our midst of a worker of wonders--a god among men. And although in
+that latter phrase some may only see a poetic license, I am disposed
+to be content. For I represent a too obvious fact--the fact that one
+portion of the world is the victim of the other part's injustice. As
+I came here to-night I passed through men and women, ragged,
+tattered, and torn, smirched with all manner of uncleanliness, who
+were hastening towards this house as if towards the millennium.
+Remembering how often that quest had been a dream, I asked myself if
+it were possible that at last it gleamed on the horizon. As I put to
+myself the question, my heart leaped up into my mouth. For it was
+borne in upon me, as a thing not to be denied, that it might be that,
+in the best of all possible senses, the Day of the Lord has arrived--
+the Great Day of the Lord.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It has arrived, Jebb, be sure of it!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I think--I say it with all due deference--that it will not
+be our fault if it has not, in the sense in which I use the phrase. I
+am told that we have Christ again among us. On that pronouncement I
+pass no opinion. I stand simply for those that suffer. I do know that
+we are in actual touch with one who has given proofs of his capacity
+to alleviate pain and make glad the sorrowful. Experience has shown
+that by nothing less than a miracle can the submerged millions be
+raised out of the depths. Here is a doer of miracles. Already he has
+shown that a cry of anguish gains access to the heart, and impels him
+to a removal of the cause. Here is a great healer, the physician the
+world is so much in want of. Would it not be well for us, sinking all
+controversial differences, to join hands in approaching him, and in
+showing him, with all humility, the wounds which gape widest, and the
+souls which are enduring most, doing this in the trust that the sight
+of so much affliction will quicken his sympathies, and move him to
+right the wrong, and to make the rough ways smooth? How he will do it
+I cannot say. But he who can raise a cancerous corpse from an
+operating table, and endue it with life and health upon the instant,
+can do that and more. To such an one all things are possible. I ask
+you to consider whether it will not be well that we should discuss
+the best and most effective manner in which, in the morning, this
+matter can be laid before him who has come among us.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scarcely had Mr. Jebb ceased to speak than there rose a huge man,
+with matted beard, untidy hair, eager eyes, and a voice which seemed
+to shake the room. This was the socialist, Henry Walters. He spoke
+with tumultuous haste, as if it was all he could do to keep up with
+the words which came rushing along his tongue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I say, Yes! if that's the Christ you're talking about, I'm for him.
+If this disturber of the peace is a creature with red blood in his
+veins, count me on his side. For he'll be a disturber of the peace
+with a vengeance. If at last Heaven has given us someone who is
+prepared to deal, not with abstractions, but with facts, then I cry:
+&quot;Hallelujah for the King of Kings!&quot; For it's more important that our
+rookeries should be made decent dwelling-places than that all the
+Churches should plump for the Thirty-nine Articles. The prospect of a
+practical Christ almost turns my brain. Religion is a synonym for
+contradiction in theory and practice, but a Christ who is a live man,
+and not a decoration for an altarpiece, will be likely to have clear
+notions on the problems which are beyond our finding out, and to care
+little for singing bad verses about the golden sea. We want a Saviour
+more than the handful of Jews did, who at least had breathing space
+in the 11,000 miles of open country, with a respectable climate,
+which you call Palestine. But he must be a Saviour that is a Saviour;
+not an utterer of dark sayings which are made darker by being
+interpreted, but a doer of deeds. Let him purify the moral and
+physical atmosphere of a single London alley, and he'll not want for
+followers. Let him assure the London dockers of a decent return for
+honest labour, and he'll write his name for all time on their hearts.
+Let him put an end to sweating, and explain to the wicked mighty that
+by right their seats should be a little lower down, and he'll have
+all that's worth having in the world upon his side. You talk about a
+Saviour of the poor. If such an one has come at last, the face of
+this country will be transformed in a fashion which will surprise
+some of you who live on the poor. There'll be no need of a second
+crucifixion, or for more tittle-tattle about dying for sinners. Let
+him live for them. He has but to choose to conquer, to will to extend
+his empire, eternally, from pole to pole. And since these are my
+sentiments I need not enlarge on the zest with which I shall join in
+the discussion suggested by Mr. Jebb as to the most irresistible
+method of laying before him who has come among us the plain fact that
+this chaos called a city is but a huge charnel-house of human
+misery.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Mr. Walters sat down the Rev. Martin Philipps rose:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have listened in silence to the remarks which we have just heard
+because I felt that this was pre-eminently an occasion on which every
+man, conscious of his own responsibility, was entitled to an
+uninterrupted exposition of his views, however abhorrent those views
+might be to some of us. I need not tell you how both the tone and
+spirit of those to which we have just been listening are contrary to
+every sense and fibre of my being. Mr. Jebb and the last speaker seem
+only to see the secular side of the subject which is before us. This
+is the more surprising as it has no secular side. If Christ has come,
+it is as a Divinity, not as an adherent of this or that political or
+social school, but as an intermediary between heaven and earth. I
+cannot express to you the horror with which I regard the notion that
+the purport of His presence here can be to administer to the material
+wants of men. To suppose so is indeed to mock God. We as Christians
+know better. It is our blessed privilege to be aware that it is not
+our bodies which He seeks, but our souls. Our body is but the
+envelope which contains the soul, and from which one day it emerges,
+like the chrysalis from the cocoon. The one endures but for a few
+years, the other through all eternity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I would not inflict on you these platitudes were it not necessary,
+after the remarks which we have heard, for us, as Christians to make
+our position plain. If Christ has come again, it is in infinite love,
+to make a further effort to save us from the consequences of our own
+sin, to complete the work of His atonement, and to seek once more to
+gather us within the safety of His fold.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I had never thought that under any possible circumstances I should
+be constrained to ask myself the question, Has Christ come again?
+Strange human blindness! I had always supposed that, as a believer in
+Christ, and Him crucified, and as a preacher, I should never have the
+slightest doubt as to whether or not He had returned to earth. I see
+now with clearer eyes; I perceive my own poor human frailty; I
+realise more clearly the nature of the puzzle which must have
+presented itself to the Jews of old. I use the word &quot;puzzle&quot; because
+it seems to define the situation more accurately than any other which
+occurs to me. Looking back across the long tale of the years, it is
+difficult for us to properly apprehend the full bearing of the fact
+that Christ, the Son of God, was once an ordinary man, in manners,
+habits, and appearance exactly like ourselves. We say glibly: &quot;He was
+made man,&quot; but how many of us stop to realise what, in their
+entirety, those words mean! When I first heard that someone was in
+London who, it was rumoured, was the Lord Jesus, my feeling was one
+of shock, horror, amazement, to think that anyone could be guilty of
+so blasphemous a travesty. If you consider, probably the same
+sensation was felt by Jews who were told that the Messiah, to whose
+advent their whole history pointed, was in their midst. When they
+were shown an ordinary man, who to their eyes looked exactly like his
+fellows--a person of absolutely no account whatever--their feeling
+was one of deep disgust, derision, scorn, which presently became
+fanatical rage. Exactly what they were looking for, more or less
+vaguely (for the promise was of old, and the performance long
+delayed), they scarcely knew themselves. But it was not this. Who is
+this man? What is his name? Where does he come from? What right has
+he to hold himself up as different from us? These were questions
+which they asked. When the answers came their rage grew more, until
+the sequel was the hill of Calvary.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A similar problem confronts us to-day in London. We believe in
+Christ, although we never saw Him. I sometimes think that, if we had
+seen Him, we might not have believed. God grant that I am wrong! For
+nearly nineteen hundred years we have watched and waited for His
+Second Coming. The time has been long; the disappointments have been
+many, until at last there has grown up in the midst of some a sort of
+dull wonder as to whether He will ever come again at all. &quot;How long?&quot;
+many of us have cried--&quot;O Lord, how long?&quot; Suddenly our question
+receives an answer of a sort. We are told: &quot;No longer--now. The great
+day of the Lord is already here. Christ has come again.&quot; When in our
+bewilderment we ask, &quot;Where is He? What is He like? Whence has He
+come, and how? Why wholly unannounced, in such guise and fashion?&quot; we
+receive the same answer as did the Jews of old.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This is a grave matter which we have met to discuss--so grave that I
+hardly dare to speak of it; but this I will venture to say: I know
+that my Redeemer liveth; but whether I should know Him, as He should
+be known, if I met Him face to face, very man of very man, here upon
+earth, I cannot certainly say. I entreat God to forgive me in that I
+am compelled, to my shame, to make such a confession; and I believe
+that He will forgive me, for He knows, as none else can, how strange
+a thing is the heart of man. He who is with us in this house tonight
+has been spoken of as a worker of wonders. That I myself know he is,
+and of wonders which are other than material. When yesterday I stood
+before him, I was abashed. The longer I stayed, the more my sense of
+self-abasement grew. I felt as if I, a thing of impurity, had been
+brought into sudden, unexpected contact with one who was wholly pure.
+I was ashamed. I am conscious that there is a presence in this house
+which, though intangible, is not to be denied. Whether or not the
+physical form and shape of our Lord is in the room above us, He is
+present in our midst; and I confidently hope, when I have sought
+guidance from God in prayer--as I trust that we presently shall all
+do--to obtain light from the Fountain of all light which shall make
+clear to me the way.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Rev. Martin Philipps was succeeded by Mr. John Anthony Gibbs. Mr.
+Gibbs was a short, portly person, with a manner which suggested,
+probably in spite of himself, a combination of the pedagogue with the
+man of business.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I believe that I am entitled to say that I represent certain
+religious bodies in the present House of Commons, and while endorsing
+what the last speaker has said, I would add to his remarks one or two
+of my own. I apprehend that it is generally allowed that we have
+among us a remarkable man. I understand that he is with us to-night
+beneath this very roof. The spirit of the age is inclined towards
+incredulity, but I for one am disposed to be convinced that he is not
+as others are. Admitting the bare possibility of his being more than
+man, even though he be less than God, I confidently affirm that it is
+to the Churches first of all that the question is of primary
+importance. I would suggest that representations be at once made to
+the different Churches.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Including the Roman Catholic?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The question came from Henry Walters.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No, sir; not to the Roman Catholic hierarchy; I was speaking of the
+Christian Churches only.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And the Roman Catholic is not one of them?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Most emphatically not, as it is within the bounds of possibility
+that it will speedily and finally learn. I speak for the Churches of
+Protestant Christendom only.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is very good of you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And I repeat that I would suggest that representations should be
+made to those that are in authority, and that meetings be called; a
+first to be attended by the clergy only, and a second by both the
+clergy and laity, at which this great question should be properly and
+adequately discussed.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And what's to happen in the meantime?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, I was not addressing you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But I was addressing you. We all know what religious meetings are
+like, especially when they are attended by representatives of
+Protestant Christendom only. While they are making up their minds
+about the differences between Tweedledum and Tweedledee, is Christ,
+humbly quiescent, to stand awaiting their decision?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, your language is repulsive. I am only addressing myself to
+those persons present who are proud to call themselves Christians.
+And them I am asking to consider whether it is not in the highest
+degree advisable that we should endeavour to obtain at the earliest
+possible moment the opinion of our bishops and clergy on this
+question of the most supreme importance.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Hear, hear! And when we've got them, we shall know how to appreciate
+them at their proper value. The Lord deliver us from our bishops and
+clergy!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After Mr. Gibbs had resumed his seat there ensued an interval, during
+which no one evinced an inclination to continue the discussion.
+Possibly Mr. Walters's interruptions had not inspired anyone with a
+desire to incur his criticism. His voice and manner were alike
+obstreperous. There were those present who knew from experience that
+it was extremely difficult to shout him down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When some moments had passed without the silence being broken, Mr.
+Treadman leaned across the table towards where sat that singular
+personality whose name is a synonym for the Salvation Army, and who
+has credited himself with brevet rank as 'General' Robins.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'General, is there nothing which you wish to say to us? Surely this
+is not a subject on which you would desire to have your voice
+unheard?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The 'General' was sitting right back in his chair. He was an old man.
+The suggestion of age was accentuated by his attitude. His back was
+bowed, his head hung forward on his chest, his hands lay on his
+knees, as if the arms to which they were attached were limp and
+weary. He did not seem to be aware that he was being addressed, so
+that Mr. Treadman had to repeat his question. When it was put a
+second time he glanced up with a start, as if he had been brought
+back with a shock from the place of shadows in which his thoughts had
+been straying.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I was thinking,' he replied.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Of what? Will you not allow us to hear our thoughts on a subject
+whose magnitude bulks larger with each word we utter?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man was silent, as if he were considering. Then he said,
+without altering his position:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I was thinking that I knew more when I was young than I do now that
+I am old. All my life I have been sure--till now. Now, the first time
+that assurance is really needed, it is gone, and has left me
+troubled. God help us all!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Explain yourself, General.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's another part of the trouble, that I'm pretty nearly afraid to
+explain. All the days of my life I've been crying: &quot;Take courage! Put
+doubt behind you!&quot; And now, when courage is what I most am wanting,
+it's fled; only doubt remains.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But, General, you of all others have no cause for doubt; and you've
+proved your courage on a hundred fields. You've not only fought the
+good fight yourself, you have shown others how to fight it too.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's it--have I? As Mr. Philipps said, to-night there's
+a Presence in the air, I felt It as I came up the street,
+as I entered this house, and more and more as I've been
+seated in this room. And in that Presence I have grown afraid,
+fearful lest in all that I have done I have done wrong. I confess--
+because It knows--that I have had doubts as to the propriety of my
+proceedings from the first. Like Saul, I seem to have been smitten
+with sudden blindness in order that I may see at last. I see that
+what Christ wants is not what I have given Him. I understood man's
+nature, but refused to understand His. I realised that there is
+nothing like sensationalism to attract a certain sort of men and
+women; I declined to realise that it does not attract Christ.
+Confident assertion pleases the mob, when it's in a certain humour,
+but not Him. Bands, uniforms, newspapers, catchwords--all the
+machinery of advertisement I have employed;--but He does not
+advertise. Worst of all, I've taught from a thousand platforms that a
+man may be a notorious sinner one minute and a child of Christ the
+next. I know that is not so.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man stood up, his quavering tones rising in a shrill
+crescendo.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You ask me to tell you what I think. I think that we are about to
+stand before the judgment-seat of God as doomed men. We have been
+like the Scribes and Pharisees, saying, We know Christ, and are
+therefore not as others, when all the time our knowledge has been
+hurrying us not to but from Him. I know that my Redeemer liveth, and
+have used that knowledge for my own ends. Because it seemed to me
+that His methods were ineffective, I have said, Not His will, but
+mine be done. I have taught Him, not as He would be taught, but as it
+has suited me to teach Him. I have lied of Him and to Him, and have
+taught a great multitude to lie also. I have made of Him a mockery in
+the eyes of men, dragged Him through the gutter, flaunted Him from
+the hoardings, used Him as a street show, and as a mountebank in the
+houses which I have called not His, but mine. I have blasphemed His
+Name by using it as a meaningless catch-phrase in the foolish mouths
+of men and women seeking for a new sensation, or for self-display. I
+have done all these things and many more. I am an old man. What time
+have I for atonement? For I know now that what Christ wants is a
+man's life, not merely a part of it--the beginning, the middle, or
+the end. You cannot win him with a phrase in a moment of emotion. You
+have gradually, persistently, quietly, to mould yourself in His
+image. Nothing else will serve. For that, for me, the time is past. I
+cannot undo what I have done, nor can I begin again. It is too late.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You ask me what I think. I think if Christ has come again--I fear He
+has, for strange things have happened to me since I entered the
+Presence that is in this room--that we had better flee, though where,
+I do not know; for wherever we go we shall take Him with us. I, for
+one, dare not meet Him face to face. I envy him his courage that
+dare, though he will have to be made of different stuff from any of
+us if it is to avail him anything. Be assured of this, that for us
+the Second Coming will not be a joyful advent. It will mean, at best,
+the pricking of the bubbles we have so long and so laboriously been
+blowing. We shall be made to know ourselves as He knows us. There
+will be the beginning of the end. What form that end will take I dare
+not endeavour to foresee. God help us all!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a curious quality in the silence that ensued when the
+'General' ceased, until Mr. Treadman sprang to his feet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I protest, with all the strength that is in me, against the doctrine
+which we have just heard! It is abominable--a thing of horror--
+contrary to all that we know of God's love and His infinite mercy! I
+know that it is false!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, man! man! it's few things we haven't known, you and
+I--except ourselves. And that knowledge is coming to us too soon.
+Woeful will be the day!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I cannot but think that the sudden rush of exciting events has
+turned our honoured friend's brain.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It has, towards the light; so that I can see the outer darkness
+which lies beyond.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'General, I cannot find language with which to express the pain I
+feel at the tendency which I perceive in your attitude to turn your
+back on all the teachings of your life.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your sentence is involved--your sentences sometimes are; but your
+meaning's tolerably clear. I'm sorry too.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Do you mean to deny that he who repents finds God--you who have been
+vehement in the cause of instant conversion.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'To my shame you say it.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your shame! Have you forgotten that there is more joy in heaven over
+one sinner that repenteth than over ninety-nine just persons? You
+out-Herod Calvin in his blackest moods.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'll not dispute with you. It's but words, words. I only hope that
+by repentance He means what you do. But I greatly fear.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am sure.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, man, how often we have been sure--we two!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am sure still. My friends, the General is nearer to Christ than he
+thinks, and Christ is nearer to him. We shall do no harm, any of us,
+by expressing our consciousness of sin, though at such a time as this
+I cannot but think that such an expression may go too far. We who are
+here have all of us laboured in our several ways in the Lord's
+vineyard. To suggest that the fruit of our endeavours has been all
+that it might have been would be presumption. We are but men. The
+best that men can do is faulty. But we have done our best, each
+according to his or her light. And having done that best, we are
+entitled to wait with a glad confidence the inspection of the Master.
+To suppose that He will require from us what He knows it has not been
+in our power to give or to do--I thank God that there is nothing in
+Scripture or out of it to cause any one to imagine that He is so
+relentless a taskmaster. And I--I have enjoyed the glad and glorious
+privilege of standing in His very presence. I have dared to speak to
+Him, to look Him in the face. I give you my personal assurance that I
+have not suffered for my daring, but have been filled instead with a
+great joy, and with an infinite content. No, General; no, my friends;
+the Lord has not come to us in anger, but in peace--a man like unto
+ourselves, knowing our infirmities, to wipe the tears out of our
+eyes. Do not, I beseech you, look upon Him for a moment as the
+dreadful being the General has depicted. The General himself, when
+his black mood has passed, and he finds himself indeed face to face
+with his Master, will be the first to perceive how contrary to truth
+that picture is. And in that moment he will know, once and forever,
+how very certain it is that the Second Coming of our Lord and Saviour
+is to us, His children, an occasion of great joy.'</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">THE SUPPLICANT</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">There was in the house that night one person who did not attempt to
+sleep--its mistress, Mrs. Miriam Powell, a woman of character; a fact
+which was sufficiently demonstrated by the name by which she was best
+known to the world. For when the Christian name of a married woman is
+familiar to the public it is because she is a person of marked
+individuality.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something of her history was notorious; not only within a large
+circle of acquaintance, but outside of it. It had lost nothing in the
+telling. An unhappy marriage; a loose-living husband--a man who was
+in more senses than one unclean; a final resolution on her part to
+live out her life alone. Out of these data she had evolved a set of
+opinions on sexual questions to which she endeavoured to induce
+anyone and everyone, in season and out of season, to listen. There
+were some who regarded her with sympathy, some with admiration, some
+with respect, and some with fatigue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In such cases women are apt to be regarded as representatives of a
+class; as abstractions, not concrete facts. The accident of her
+having had a bad husband was known to all the world; that she was
+herself the victim of a temperament was not. She was of the stuff out
+of which saints and martyrs may have been made, which is not
+necessarily good material out of which to make a wife. Enthusiasm was
+a necessity of her existence--not the frothy, fleeting frenzy of a
+foolish female, but an enduring possession of the kind which makes
+nothing of fighting with beasts at Ephesus. Although she herself
+might not be aware of it, the nature of her matrimonial experiences
+had given her what her instincts craved for: a creed--sexual reform.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She maintained that sexual intercourse was a thing of horror; the
+cause of all the evil which the world contains. Although she was wise
+enough not to proclaim the fact, in her heart she was of opinion that
+it would be better that the race should die out rather than that the
+evil should continue. She aimed at what she called universal
+chastity; maintaining that the less men and women had to do with each
+other the better. In pursuit of this chimera she performed labours
+which, if not worthy of Hercules, at least resembled those of
+Sisyphus in that they had to be done over and over again. The stone
+would not stay at the top of the hill.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At the outset she had been convinced--as the fruit of her own
+experience--that the fault lay with the men. Latterly she had been
+inclining more and more to the belief that the women had something to
+do with it as well. Indeed, she was beginning to more than suspect
+that theirs might be the major part of the blame. The suspicion
+filled her with a singular sort of rage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the person to whose house the Stranger had come at this
+particular stage of her mental development. His advent had brought
+her to the verge of what is called madness in the case of an ordinary
+person of to-day; and spiritual exaltation in the case of saints and
+martyrs. She already knew that she was on a hopeless quest, and,
+although the fact did not daunt her for a moment, had realised that
+nothing short of a miracle would bring about that change in the human
+animal which she desired. Here was the possibility of a miracle
+actually at hand. Here was a worker of wonders--men said, the very
+Christ.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was the reflection that what men said might be true which made her
+courage quail at last.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A miracle-monger she desired. But--the Christ! To formulate the
+proposition which was whirling in her brain to a
+doer-of-strange-deeds was one thing, but--to Him! That was another.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When she had come into His near neighbourhood she had shrunk back, a
+frightened creature. She had been afraid to look Him in the face.
+Ever since He had been beneath her roof she had been shaken as with
+palsy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dare she do this thing?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That was the problem which had been present in her mind the whole day
+long, and which still racked it in the silent watches of the night.
+To and fro she passed, from room to room, from floor to floor. More
+than once she approached the door behind which He was, only to start
+away from it again and flee. She did not even dare to kneel at His
+portal, fearful lest He, knowing she was there, might come out and
+see. In her own chamber she scanned the New Testament in search of
+words which would comfort and encourage her. In vain. The sentences
+seemed to rise up from off the printed pages to condemn her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had an idea. The lame man and the charcoal-burner were the joint
+occupants of a spare room. She would learn from them what manner of
+man their Master was--whether He might be expected to lend a
+sympathetic ear to such a supplication as that which she had it in
+her heart to make. But when she stood outside their apartment she
+reflected that they were common fellows. Her impulse had been to
+refuse them shelter, being at a loss to understand what connection
+there could be between her guest and such a pair. That they had
+thrust themselves upon Him she thought was probable; the more reason,
+therefore, why she should decline to countenance their presumptuous
+persistence. To seek from them advice or information would be an act
+of condescension which would be as resultless as undignified.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">No. Better go directly to the fountainhead. That would be the part
+both of propriety and wisdom.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She screwed her courage to the sticking-point, and went.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The two disciples were lodged in an upper story. She had her knuckles
+against the panel of their door when at last her resolution was
+arrived at. Straightway relinquishing her former purpose, she
+hastened down the stairs to the floor on which He was. As she went
+the clock in the hall struck three.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The announcement of the hour moved her to fresh irresolution. Would
+it be seemly to rouse Him out of slumber to press on Him such a
+petition? Yet if she did not do it now, when could she? She might
+never again have such an opportunity. Were His ears not always open
+to the prayers of those that stood in need of help? What difference
+did the night or the morning make to Him? She put out her hand
+towards the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As she did so a great fear came over her. It was as though she was
+stricken with paralysis. She could neither do as she intended nor
+withdraw her hand. She remained as one rooted to the floor. How long
+she stayed she did not know. The seconds and the minutes passed, and
+still she did not move. Presently her fear grew greater. She knew,
+although she had not made a sound, that, conscious of her presence,
+He was coming towards her on the other side of the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then the door was opened, and she saw Him face to face. He
+did not speak a word; and she was still. The gift of fluent speech
+for which she was notorious had gone from her utterly. He looked at
+her in such fashion that she was compelled to meet His eyes, though
+she would have given all that she had to have been able to escape
+their scrutiny. For in them was an eloquence which was not of words,
+and a quality which held her numb. For she was conscious not only
+that He knew her, in a sense of which she had never dreamed in her
+blackest nightmares, but that He was causing her to know herself. In
+the fierce light of that self-knowledge her heart dried up within
+her. She saw herself as what she was--the embittered, illiberal,
+narrow-minded woman who, conscious of her isolation, had raised up
+for herself a creed of her own--a creed which was not His. She saw
+how, with the passage of the years, her persistence in this creed had
+forced her farther and farther away from Him, until now she had grown
+to have nothing in common with Him, since she had so continually
+striven to bring about the things which He would not have. She had
+placed herself in opposition to His will, and now had actually come
+to solicit His endorsement of her action. And she knew that in so
+doing she had committed the greatest of all her sins.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She did not offer her petition. But when the door was closed again,
+and He had passed from her actual sight, there stood without one from
+whose veins the wine of life had passed, and whose hair had become
+white as snow. Although not a word had been spoken, she had stood
+before the Judgment Seat, and tasted of more than the bitterness of
+death. When she began to return to her own room she had to feel her
+way with her hands. Her sight had become dim, her limbs feeble. She
+had grown old.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">IN THE MORNING</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">All through the night people remained in the street without. With the
+return of day their numbers so increased that the authorities began
+to be concerned. The house itself was besieged. It was with
+difficulty that the police could keep a sufficient open space in
+front to enable persons to pass in and out. An official endeavoured
+to represent to the inmates the authoritative point of view.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Whose house is this?' he asked of the servant who opened the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was told.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Can I see Mrs. Powell?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The maid seemed bewildered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We don't know what's the matter with her. We're going to send for a
+doctor.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is she ill?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'She's grown old since last night.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What do you mean?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The officer stared. The girl began to cry.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I want to get away. I'm frightened.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Don't be silly. What have you got to be frightened at? Can't I see
+someone who's responsible? I don't know who you've got in the house,
+but whoever it is, he'd better go before there's trouble.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'They say it's Christ.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Christ or no Christ, I tell you he'd better go somewhere where his
+presence won't be the occasion of a nuisance. Is there no one I can
+see?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am here.' The answer came from Mr. Treadman, who, with three other
+persons, had just entered the hall. 'What is it, constable? Is there
+anything you want?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't know who you are, sir, but if you're the cause of the
+confusion outside you're incurring a very serious responsibility.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am not the cause; it is not me they have come to see. They have
+come to see the Lord. Officer, Christ has come again.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman laid his hand upon the official's arm; who instantly
+shook it off again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I know nothing about that; I want to know nothing. I only know that
+no one has a right to cause a nuisance.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Cause a nuisance? Christ! Officer, are you mad?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't want to talk to you. I have my instructions; they're enough
+for me. My instructions are to see that the nuisance is abated. The
+best way to do that is to induce your friend to take himself
+somewhere else without any fuss.' Voices came from the street. 'Do
+you hear that? A lot of half-witted people have foolishly brought
+their sick friends, and have actually got them out there, as if this
+was some sort of hospital at which medical attendance could be had
+for the asking. If anything happens to those sick people, it won t be
+nice for whoever is to blame.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nothing will happen. The Lord has only to raise His hand, to say the
+word, for them to be made whole. They know it; their faith has made
+them sure.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The officer regarded the other for a moment or two before he spoke
+again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Look here, I don't know what your game is----'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Game?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'And I don't know what new religion it is you're supposed to be
+teaching----'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'New religion? The religion we are teaching is as old as the hills.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Very well; then that's all right. You take it to the hills; there'll
+be more room there. You tell your friend that the sooner he takes a
+trip into the country the better it'll be for everyone concerned.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Officer, don't you understand what it means when you are told that
+Christ has come again? Can it be possible that you are not a
+Christian?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The official waved his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The only thing about which I'm concerned is my duty, and my duty is
+to carry out my instructions. If, as I say, your friend is a sensible
+man, he'll change his quarters as soon as he possibly can. You'll
+find me waiting outside, to know what he intends to do. Don't keep me
+any longer than you can help.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The official's disappearance was followed by a momentary silence;
+then Mr. Treadman laughed awkwardly, as if his sense of humour had
+been tickled by something which was not altogether pleasant.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is the latest touch of irony, that Christ should be regarded as
+a common nuisance, and on His Second Coming to be the Judge of all
+the earth requested to take Himself elsewhere!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Rev. Martin Philipps pursed his lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What you say is correct enough; it is a ludicrous notion. But, on
+the other hand, the position is not a simple one. If, as they bid
+fair to do, the people flock here in huge crowds, at the very least
+there will be confusion, and the police will have difficulty in
+keeping order.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You would not have the people refrain from coming to greet their
+Lord?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I would nave them observe some method. Do you yourself wish that
+they should press upon Him in an unmanageable mob?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Have no fear of that. He will hold them in the hollow of His hand,
+and will see that they observe all the method that is needed. For my
+part, I'd have them flock to Him from all the corners of the earth--
+and they will.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In that case I trust that they will not endeavour to pack themselves
+within the compass of the London streets.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Be at peace, my friend; do not let yourself be troubled. All that He
+shall do will be well. Now, first, to see our dear sister, whose
+request He granted, and whom He so greatly blessed by staying beneath
+her roof.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As he spoke, turning, he saw a figure coming down the stairs--an old
+woman, who tottered from tread to tread, clinging to the banister, as
+if she needed it both as a guide and a support.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who is this?' he asked. Then: 'It can't be Mrs. Powell?' It was. He
+ran to her. 'My dear friend, what has happened to you since I saw you
+last?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old woman, grasping the banister with both hands, looked down at
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have seen Him face to face!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Seen whom?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Christ. I have stood before the judgment-seat of God.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a quality in her voice which, combined with the singularity
+and even horror of her appearance, caused them to stare at her with
+doubting eyes. Mr. Treadman put a question to the servant, who still
+lingered in the passage:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What does she mean? What has taken place?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The girl began again to whimper.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't know. I want to go--I daren't stop--I'm frightened!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman ascended to the old woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Take my arm; let me help you down, then you can tell me all that has
+happened.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With her two hands she caught his arm in a convulsive grip. At her
+touch they saw that his countenance changed. As they descended side
+by side upon his face was a curious expression, almost as if he was
+afraid of his companion. As she came the others retreated. When he
+led her into a room the others followed at a distance, showing a
+disposition to linger in the doorway. He brought her to a chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Here is a seat. Sit down.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She glanced with her dim eyes furtively to the front and back, to the
+right and left, continuing to clutch his arm, as if unwilling to
+relinquish its protection. He was obviously embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Did you not hear what I said? Here is a seat. Let me go.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She neither answered nor showed any signs of releasing him. He called
+to those in the doorway:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come and help me, someone; she grips my arm as in a vice. Mrs.
+Powell, I must insist upon your doing as I request. Let me go!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With a sudden wrench he jerked himself away. Deprived of his support,
+she dropped on to the ground. Indifferent to her apparent
+helplessness, he hurried to the trio at the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There's something awful about her--worse than madness. She has given
+me quite a nervous shock.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'General' Robins answered; he was one of the three who had come with
+Mr. Treadman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'As she herself says, she has seen Him face to face. Wait till we
+also have seen Him face to face. God help us all!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Rev. Martin Philipps fidgeted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Without wishing to countenance any extravagant theories, it is plain
+that something very strange has happened to Mrs. Powell. I trust that
+we ourselves are incurring no unnecessary risks.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Jebb, who also had come with Mr. Treadman, regarded the speaker
+in a manner which was not flattering.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You religious people are always thinking of yourselves. It is
+because you are afraid of what will happen to what you call your
+souls that you try to delude yourselves with the pretence that you
+believe; regarding faith as a patent medicine warranted to cure all
+ills. You might find indifference to self a safer recipe.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Picking up Mrs. Powell from where she still lay upon the floor, he
+placed her in a chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My good lady, the proper place for you is in bed.' He called to the
+maid: 'See that your mistress is put to bed at once, and a doctor
+sent for.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A doctor,' cried Mr. Treadman, 'when the Great Healer Himself is
+upstairs!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You appear to ignore the fact that, according to your creed, the
+Great Healer, as you call him, metes out not rewards only, but
+punishments as well. He is not a doctor to whom you have only to
+offer a fee to command his services.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'General' Robins caught at the words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He does ignore it; and by his persistence in so doing he makes our
+peril every moment greater.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'At the same time,' continued Mr. Jebb, 'it is just as well that we
+should keep our heads. A person of Mrs. Powell's temperament and
+history may pass from what she was to what she is in the twinkling of
+an eye without the intervention of anything supernatural. So much is
+certain.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman, who had been wiping his brow with his
+pocket-handkerchief, as if suffering from a sudden excess of heat,
+joined in the conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My dear friend, God moves in a mysterious way. We all know that. Let
+us not probe into His actions in this or that particular instance,
+but rest content with the general assurance that all things work
+together for the good of those that love the Lord. Let us not forget
+the errand which has brought us here. Let us lose no more time, but
+use all possible expedition in opening our hearts to Him.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I wish, Treadman, since you are not a parson, that you wouldn't ape
+the professional twang. Isn't ordinary English good enough for you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My dear Jebb, you are pleased to be critical. My sole desire is to
+speak of Him with all possible reverence.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then be reverent in decent every-day English. Are you suggesting
+that we should seek his presence? Because, if so I'm ready.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It seemed, however, that the other two were not. 'General' Robins
+openly confessed his unwillingness to, as he put it, meet the
+Stranger face to face. Nor was Mr. Philipps's eagerness in that
+direction much greater than his. Even Mr. Treadman showed signs of a
+chastened enthusiasm. It needed Mr. Jebb's acerbity to rekindle the
+expiring flame. Mr. Treadman repudiated the hints which his associate
+threw out with a show both of heat and scorn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Soon the quartette were mounting the stairs which led to the
+Stranger's room. On the landing there was a pause. The 'General' and
+Mr. Philipps, whose unwillingness to proceed further had by no means
+vanished, still lagged behind. Mr. Jebb lashed them with his tongue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What's wrong with you? Is it spiritual fear or physical? In either
+case, what fine figures you both present! All these years you have
+been sounding your trumpets, proclaiming that you are Christ's, and
+Christ is yours; that the only thing for which you have yearned is
+His return. Now see how you shiver and shake! Is it because you are
+afraid that He has come, or because you fear He hasn't?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't think,' stammered Mr. Philipps, 'that you are entitled to
+say I am afraid--other than in the sense in which every true believer
+must be afraid when he finds himself standing on the threshold of the
+Presence.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The 'General' was more candid.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I fear, I fear! He knows me altogether! He knows I fear!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman endeavoured to return to his old assurance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come, my friends, let us fear nothing. Whether we live we are the
+Lord's; or whether we die we are the Lord's, blessed be the name of
+the Lord! Let us rejoice and make glad, and enter into His presence
+with a song.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Without knocking, turning the handle of the door in front of which
+they stood, he went into the room. Mr. Jebb went with him. After
+momentary hesitation, the Rev. Martin Philipps followed after. But
+'General' Robins stayed without. It was as if he made an effort to
+force his feet across the threshold, and as if they refused him their
+obedience. The tall, rugged figure, clad in its bizarre uniform,
+trembled as with ague.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On a sudden one of the bands for whose existence he was responsible
+burst into blatant sound in the street beyond. As its inharmonious
+notes reached his ears, he leant forward and hid his face against the
+wall.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">THE MIRACLE OF HEALING</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger was seated, conversing with His two disciples. When the
+trio entered He was still. From the street came the noise of the
+Salvation Army band and the voices of the people. There was in the
+air the hum of a great multitude.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something of his assurance had gone from Mr. Treadman. His tongue was
+not so ready, his bearing more uncertain. When he spoke, it was with
+emotion which was almost tearful, at first, in gentler tones than he
+was wont to use.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord, we Thy servants, sinners though we are, and conscious of our
+infirmities, come to Thee to offer up our supplications. We come in
+the name of Thy people. For though, like children, they have erred
+and strayed, and lacked the wisdom of the Father, yet they are Thy
+children, Lord, and hold Thy name in reverence. And they are many. In
+all the far places of the world they are to be found. And in this
+great city they are for numbers as the sands of the sea. Not all of
+one pattern--not all wise or strong. Associated with the various
+branches of the universal Church, differing in little things, they
+are all of one mind upon one point, their love for Thee. We pray Thee
+to make Thyself known to the great host which is Thy family, assuring
+Thee that Thou hast only to do so to find that it fills all the
+world. The exigencies of modern civilisation render it difficult for
+a mortal monarch to meet his subjects as he would desire; nor, with
+all respect be it urged, is the difficulty made less in the case of
+the King of Kings. Therefore we have ventured, subject to Thy
+approval, to make arrangements for the hire of a large building,
+called the Albert Hall, which is capable of holding several thousand
+persons. And we pray that Thou wilt deign to there meet detachments
+of Thy people in such numbers as the structure will accommodate, as a
+preliminary to the commencement of Thy reign over all the earth.
+Since the people are so anxious to see Thy face that already the
+police find it difficult to keep their eagerness within due bounds,
+we would entreat Thee to delay as little as possible, and to hold Thy
+first reception in the Albert Hall this afternoon. This prayer we lay
+at Thy feet in the hope and trust that Thou wilt not be unwilling to
+avail Thyself of the experience and organising powers of such of Thy
+servants as have spent their lives in the highways and byways of this
+great city, working for Thy Holy Name.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Mr. Treadman had finished, the Stranger asked of Mr. Jebb:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is it that you would say to Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Jebb replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have not Mr. Treadman's command of a particular sort of language,
+but in a general way I would endorse all that he has said, adding a
+postscript for which I am alone responsible. I do not know what is
+the purpose of your presence here, and--with all respect to certain
+of my friends--I do not think that anyone else knows either. I trust
+that you are here for the good of the world at large, and not as the
+representative of this or that system of theology. Should that be the
+case, I would observe that sound religion is synonymous with a sound
+body, and that no soldier is at his best as a fighting man who is
+under-fed. I ask your attention to the poor of London--the materially
+poor. You have, I am told, demonstrated your capacity to perform
+miracles. If ever there was a place in which a miracle was required,
+it is the city of London. Cleanse the streets, purify the dwellings,
+clothe the poor, put food into their bellies, make it possible for
+them to live like decent men and women, and you will raise an
+enduring monument to the honour and glory of God. The human family
+has shown itself incapable of providing adequately for its various
+members. Make good that incapacity, and you will at once establish
+the kingdom of heaven here on earth. I ask to be allowed to place
+before you certain details which will illustrate some of the worst of
+the evils which require attention, in the belief that they have only
+to be brought home to you with sufficient force to be at once swept
+out of existence.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger turned to the Rev. Martin Philipps.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is it that you would say?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Philipps began to stammer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I--I had put together the heads of a few remarks which I had
+intended to make on this occasion, but they have all gone from me.'
+He stretched out his arms with a sudden cry: 'Forgive me, Lord, if in
+Thy presence I am dumb.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You have done better than these others. Is there not one who waits
+outside? Let him come in.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The 'General' entered, and fell on the floor at His feet, crying,
+'Lord, Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He said: 'What would you have of Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nothing, Lord, nothing, except that You would hide from me the anger
+which is on Your face!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You also are of the company of those who would administer the
+kingdom of heaven as if it were their own. So that God must learn of
+men, not men of God! You call yourselves His children, yet seek not
+to know what is in the Father's heart, but exclaim of the great
+things which are in yours, forgetting that the wisdom of God is not
+as the wisdom of men. So came sin and death into the world, and still
+prevail. Rise. Call not so often on My Name, nor proclaim it so
+loudly in the market-place. Seek yourself to know Me. Take no heed to
+speak of Me foolishly to others, for God is sufficient unto each man
+for his own salvation.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He arose, and the 'General' also. He said to Mr. Treadman and to Mr.
+Jebb:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You foolish fellows! To think that God needs to be advised of men!
+Consider what God is; then consider what is man.' He turned to the
+lame man and to the charcoal-burner. 'Come! For there is that to do
+which must be done.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When He had left the room the 'General' stole after Him. Mr. Jebb
+spoke to Mr. Treadman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You and I are a pair of fools!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why do you say that?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'To suppose that anything that we could say would have the slightest
+weight with Him. It's clearly a case of His will, not ours, be done.
+If tradition is to be trusted, His will was not the popular will in
+the days of old. He'll find that it is still less so now. Millions of
+men, conscious of crying grievances, are not to be treated as
+automata. There's trouble brooding.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh, if He only would be guided, so easily He might avoid a
+repetition of the former tragedy, and hold undisputed sway in the
+hearts of all men and women which the world contains.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I doubt the very easily; and anyhow, He won't be guided. I for one
+shall make no further attempt. I don't know what it is He proposes to
+Himself (I never could clearly understand what was the intention of
+the Christ of tradition), but I'm sure that it was something very
+different to what is in your mind. I am equally certain that the
+world has never seen, and will never suffer, such an autocrat as He
+suggests.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Jebb, I know you mean well, I know how you have devoted your whole
+life to the good of others, but I wish I could make you understand
+how every word you utter is a shock to my whole sense of decency and
+reverence.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your sense of decency and reverence! You haven't any. You and
+Philipps and Robins, and all men of your kidney, have less of that
+sort of thing than I have. You are too familiar ever to be reverent.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Jebb, what noise is that?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He has gone out into the street. At sight of Him the people have
+started shouting. The police will have their hands full if they don't
+look out. Something very like the spirit of riot is abroad.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I must follow Him; I must try to keep close to Him, wherever He may
+go. Perhaps my assiduity may at last prevail. As it is, it all
+threatens to turn out so differently to what I had hoped.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yes, you had hoped to be a prominent figure in the proceedings, but
+you are going to take no part in them at all; that's where the shoe
+pinches with you, Treadman.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Treadman had not stayed to listen. He was already down the stairs
+and at the street door, to find that the Stranger had just passed
+through it, to be greeted by a chorus of exclamations from those who
+saw Him come.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The spacious roadway was filled with people from end to end--an
+eager, curious, excitable crowd. There were men, women, and children;
+but though it contained a sprinkling of persons of higher social
+rank, it was recruited mostly from that class which sees nothing
+objectionable in a crowd as such. Vehicular traffic was stopped. The
+police kept sufficient open space upon the pavement to permit of
+pedestrians passing to and fro. In front of the house was a
+surprising spectacle. Invalids of all sorts and kinds were there
+gathered together in heterogeneous assemblage. The officials, finding
+it impossible without using violence to prevent their appearance on
+the scene, had cleared a portion of the roadway for their
+accommodation, so that when He appeared, He found Himself confronted
+by all manner of sick. There were blind, lame, and dumb; idiots and
+misshapen folk; sufferers from all sorts of disease, in all stages of
+their maladies. Some were on the bed from which they were unable to
+raise themselves, some were on chairs, some on the bare ground. They
+had been brought from all parts of the city--young and old, male and
+female. There were those among them who had been there throughout the
+night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When they saw Him come out of the door, those who could move at all
+began to press forward so that they might be able to reach Him,
+crying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Heal us! heal us!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In their eagerness they bade fair to tread each other under foot;
+seeing which the officer who stood at the gate turned to Him, saying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is it you these poor wretches have come to see? If you have
+encouraged them in their madness you have incurred a frightful
+responsibility; the deaths of many of them will be upon your head.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Speak of that of which you have some understanding.' To the
+struggling, stricken crowd in front of Him He said: 'Go in peace and
+sin no more.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Straightway they all were healed of their diseases. The sick sprang
+out of their beds and from off the ground, cripples threw away their
+crutches, the crooked were made straight, the blind could see, the
+dumb could talk. When they found that it was so they were beside
+themselves with joy. They laughed and sang, ran this way and that,
+giving vent to their feelings in divers strange fashions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And all they that saw it were amazed, and presently they raised a
+great shout:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is Christ the King!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They pressed forward to where He stood upon the step. Stretching out
+His hand, He held them back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why do you call me king? Of what am I the king? Of your hearts and
+lives? Of your thoughts at your rising up and lying down? No. You
+know Me not. But because of this which you have seen you exclaim with
+your voice; your hearts are still. Who among you doeth My
+commandments? Is there one who has lived for Me? My name is on your
+tongues; your bodies you defile with all manner of evil. You esteem
+yourselves as gods. There are devils in hell who are nearer heaven
+than some of you. As was said to those of old, Except you be born
+again you know Me not. I know not you; call not upon My name. For
+service which is of the lips only is a thing hateful unto God.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When He ceased to speak the people drew farther from Him and closer
+to each other, murmuring among themselves:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who is he? What are these things which he says? What have we done to
+him that he should speak to us like this?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A great stillness came over the crowd; for, although they knew not
+why, they were ashamed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When He came down into the street they made way for Him to pass, no
+one speaking as He went.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">THE YOUNG MAN</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The fame of these things passed from the frequenters of the streets
+and the hunters of notoriety to those in high places. The matter was
+discussed at a dinner which was given that night by a Secretary of
+State to certain dignitaries, both spiritual and temporal. There was
+no Mr. Treadman there. The atmosphere was sacrosanct. There was an
+absence of enthusiasm on any subject beneath the sun which, to minds
+of a certain order, is proper to sanctity. The conversation wandered
+from Shakespeare to the musical glasses; until at last something was
+said of the subject of the day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was the host who began. He was a person who had risen to his high
+position by a skilful manipulation of those methods which have made
+of politics a thing apart. A clever man, shrewd, versatile, desirous
+of being in the van of any movement which promised to achieve
+success.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The evening papers are full of strange stories of what took place
+this morning at Maida Vale. They make one think.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I understand,' said Sir Robert Farquharson, known in the House of
+Commons as 'the Member for India,' 'that the people are quite
+excited. Indeed, one can see for oneself that there are an unusual
+number of people in the streets, and that they all seem talking of
+the same thing. It reminds one of the waves of religious frenzy which
+in India temporarily drive a whole city mad.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We don't go quite so far as that in London, fortunately. Still, the
+affair is odd. Either these things have been done, or they haven't.
+In either case, I confess myself puzzled.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Archbishop looked up from his plate.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There seems to be nothing known about the person of any sort or
+kind--neither who he is, nor what he is, nor whence he comes. The
+most favourable supposition seems to be that he is mentally
+deranged.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Suppose he were the Christ?' The Archbishop looked down; his face
+wore a shocked expression. The Secretary smiled; he has not hesitated
+to let it be known that he is in bondage to no creed. 'That would
+indeed be to bring religion into the sphere of practical politics.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Not necessarily. It was a Roman blunder which placed it there
+before.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the Earl of Hailsham, whose fame as a diplomatist is
+politically great.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You think that Christ might come and go without any official notice
+being taken of the matter?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Certainly. Why not? That might, and would, have been the case before
+had Pontius Pilate been a wiser and a stronger man.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That point of view deserves consideration. Aren't you ignoring the
+fact that this is a Christian country?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In a social sense, Carruthers, most decidedly. I hope that we are
+all Christians in England--I know I am--because to be anything else
+would be the height of impropriety.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Secretary laughed outright.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your frankness shocks the Archbishop.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again the Archbishop looked up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am not easily shocked at the difference of opinion on questions of
+taste. It is so easy to jeer at what others hold sacred.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My dear Archbishop, I do implore your pardon a thousand times;
+nothing was farther from my intention. I merely enunciated what I
+supposed to be a truism.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am unfortunately aware, my lord, that Christianity is to some but
+a social form. But I believe, from my heart, that, relatively, they
+are few. I believe that to the great body of Englishmen and
+Englishwomen Christianity is still a vital force, probably more so
+to-day than it was some years ago. To the clergy I know it is; by
+their lives they prove it every hour of every day.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In a social or a spiritual sense? Because, as a vital force, it may
+act in either direction. Let me explain to you exactly what I mean.
+That it is nothing offensive you will see. My own Rector is a most
+estimable man; he, his curates, and his family are untiring in their
+efforts to increase the influence of the Church among the people.
+There is not a cottager in the parish who does not turn towards the
+Rectory in time of trouble--he would rather turn there than towards
+heaven. In that sense I say that the Rector's is a social, rather
+than a spiritual, influence; he himself would be the first to admit
+it. The work which the Church is doing in the East of London is
+social. The idea seems to be that if you improve the social
+conditions, spiritual improvement will follow. Does it? I wonder.
+Christianity is a vital force in a social sense, thank goodness! But
+my impression is that its followers await the Second Coming of their
+Founder with the same dilettante interest with which the Jews
+anticipate the rebuilding of Jerusalem. Both parties would be
+uncomfortably surprised if their anticipations were fulfilled. They
+would be confronted with a condition for which they were not in any
+way prepared. Candidly, wouldn't they? What would you yourself do if
+this person who is turning London topsy-turvy were actually the
+Christ?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am unable to answer so very serious a question at a moment's
+notice.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In other words, you don't believe that he is the Christ; and nothing
+would make you believe. You know such things don't happen--if they
+ever did.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You would not believe even though one rose from the dead--eh,
+Archbishop?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The question came from Sir William Braidwood, the surgeon. The Earl
+of Hailsham looked towards him down the table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'By the way, what is the truth about that woman at the hospital?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The woman was dead; living, she was cancerous. He restored her to
+life; healed of her cancer. No greater miracle is recorded of the
+Christ of tradition. This afternoon a woman came to me who has been
+paralysed for nearly five years, unable to move hand or foot, to
+raise herself on her bed, or to do anything for herself whatever. She
+came on her own feet, ran up the stairs, radiant with life, health,
+and good spirits, in the full enjoyment of all her limbs. She was one
+of those who were at Maida Vale, whither she had been borne upon her
+bed. You should hear her account of what took place. The wonder to me
+is that the crowd was not driven stark, staring mad!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'These things cause one to think furiously.' The Secretary sipped his
+wine. He addressed the Archbishop. 'Have you received any official
+intimation of what is taking place?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have had letters, couched in the most extraordinary language, and
+even telegrams. Also verbal reports, full of the wildest and most
+contradictory statements. I occupy a position of extreme
+responsibility, in which my slightest word or action is liable to
+misconstruction.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Has it been clearly proved,' asked Farquharson, 'that he himself
+claims to be the Christ?' No one seemed to know; no one answered. 'Do
+I understand, Braidwood, that you are personally convinced that this
+person is possessed of supernatural powers?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am; though it does not necessarily follow on that account that he
+is the Christ, any more than that he is Gautama Siddartha or Mahomet.
+I believe that we are all close to what is called the supernatural,
+that we are divided from it by something of no more definite texture
+than a membrane. We have only to break through that something to find
+such powers are. Possibly this person has performed that feat. My own
+impression is that he's a public danger.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A public danger? How?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Augustus Jebb called to see me before I came away--the social
+science man, I mean. He followed close on the heels of the woman of
+whom I told you. He was himself in Mrs. Powell's house at the time,
+and from a window saw all that occurred. He corroborates her story,
+with additions of his own. A few moments before he, with others, had
+an interview with the miracle-worker. He says that he was afraid of
+him, mentally, physically, morally, because of the possibilities
+which he saw in the man. He justifies his fear by two facts. As you
+are aware, this person stopped last night at the house of Mrs. Miriam
+Powell, the misguided creature who preaches what she calls social
+purity. She was a hale, hearty woman, in the prime of life, as late
+as yesterday afternoon. She was, however, a terrible bore. The
+probability is that, during the night, for some purpose of her own,
+she forced herself into her guest's presence; with the result that
+this morning she was a thing of horror.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In what sense?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Age had prematurely overtaken her--unnatural age. She looked and
+moved like a hag of ninety. She was mentally affected also, seeming
+haunted by an unceasing causeless terror. She kept repeating: &quot;I have
+seen Him face to face!&quot;--significant words. Jebb's other fact
+referred to Robins, the Salvation Army man. When Robins came into
+this person's presence he was attacked as with paralysis, and
+transformed into a nerveless coward. Jebb says that he is a pitiable
+object. His inference--which I am disposed to endorse--is, that if
+that person can do good he can also do evil, and that it is dependent
+upon his mood which he does. A man who can perform wholesale cures
+with a word may, for all we know, also strike down whole battalions
+with a word. His powers may be new to him, or the probability is that
+we should have heard of him before. As they become more familiar, to
+gratify a whim he may strike down a whole cityful. And there is
+another danger.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You pile up the agony, Braidwood.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Wait till I have finished. There are a number of wrong-headed
+persons who think that he may be used as a tool for their own
+purposes. For instance, Jebb actually endeavoured to induce him to
+transform London, as it were, with a touch of his wand.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What do you mean?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You know Jebb's panacea--better houses for the poor, and that sort
+of thing. He tried to persuade this person to provide the London poor
+with better houses, money in their pockets, clothes on their backs,
+and food in their stomachs, in the same instantaneous fashion in
+which he performed his miracle of healing.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is Mr. Jebb mad?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I should say certainly not. He has been brought into contact with
+this person, and should be better able to judge of his powers than we
+are. He believes them to be limitless. Jebb himself was badly
+snubbed. But that is only the beginning. He tells me that the man
+Walters, the socialistic agitator, and his friends are determined to
+make a dead set at the wonder-worker, and to leave no stone unturned
+to induce him to bring about a revolution in London. The possibility
+of even such an attempt is not agreeable to contemplate.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If these things come to pass, religion--at least, so far as this
+gentleman is concerned--will at once be brought within the sphere of
+practical politics. Don't you think so, Hailsham?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It might bring something novel into the political arena. I should
+like to see how parties would divide upon such a question, and the
+shape which it would take. Would the question as to whether he was or
+was not the Christ be made the subject of a full-dress debate, and
+would the result of the ensuing division be accepted as final by
+everyone concerned?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I should say no. If the &quot;ayes&quot; had it in the House, the &quot;noes&quot; would
+have it in the country, and <i>vice versâ</i>.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Farquharson, you suggest some knowledge of English human nature. In
+our fortunate country obstinacy and contrariness are the dominant
+public notes. A Briton resents authority in matters of conscience,
+especially when it emanates from the ill-conditioned persons who
+occupy the benches in the Lords and Commons; which is why religious
+legislation is such a frightful failure.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This with a sly glance at the Archbishop, who had been associated
+with a Bill for the Better Ordering of Public Worship.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Duke of Trent joined in the conversation. He was a young man who
+had recently succeeded to the Dukedom. Coming from a cadet branch of
+the family, he had hitherto lived a life of comparative retirement.
+His present peers had not yet made up their minds as to the kind of
+character he was. He spoke with that little air of awkwardness
+peculiar to a certain sort of Englishman who approaches a serious
+subject. His first remark was addressed to Sir William Braidwood:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But if this is the Christ, would you not expect Him to mete out
+justice as well as mercy? He may have come to condemn as well as to
+bless. In that case a sinner could hardly expect to force himself
+into His presence and escape unscathed.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'On points of theology I refer you to the Archbishop. My point is,
+that an autocrat possessed of supernatural powers is a public
+danger.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Does that include God the Father? He is omnipotent. Whom He will He
+raises up, and whom He will He puts down. So we Christians believe.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Archbishop turned towards him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You are quite right, Duke; we know it. To suppose that Christ could
+be in any sense a public danger is not only blasphemous but absurd.
+Such a notion could only spring from something worse than ignorance.
+I take it that Sir William discredits the idea that about this person
+there is anything divine.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I believe He is the Christ!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You do?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I do.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But why?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All eyes had turned towards the young man; who had gone white to the
+lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I do not know that I am able to furnish you with what you would
+esteem a logical reason. Could the Apostles have given a mathematical
+demonstration of the causes of their belief? I only know that I feel
+Him in the air.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Of this room?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yes, thank God! of this room.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You use strange words. Do you base your belief on his reported
+miracles?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Not entirely, though I entirely dissent from Sir William Braidwood's
+theory that we are near to what he calls the supernatural; except in
+the sense that we are near heaven, and that God is everywhere. Such
+works are only of Him. Man never wrought them; or never will. My
+mother loved Christ. She taught me to do so. Perhaps that is why I
+know that He is in London now.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What do you propose to do?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is what troubles me. I don't know. I feel that I ought to do
+something, but--it is so stupid of me!--I don't know what.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Does your trouble resemble the rich young man's of whom some of us
+have read?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the Earl of Hailsham. The Duke shook his head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No; it's not that. He knows that I will do anything I can do; but I
+don't think He wants me to do anything at all. He is content with the
+knowledge that I know He is here, that His presence makes me happy. I
+think that's it.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Such sentiments from a young man were unusual. His hearers stared the
+more. The Archbishop said, gravely, sententiously:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My dear Duke, I beg that you will give this matter your most serious
+consideration; that you will seek advice from those qualified to give
+it; and that only after the most careful deliberation you will say or
+do anything which you may afterwards regret. I confess I don't
+understand how you arrive at your conclusions. And I would point out
+to you very earnestly how much easier it is to do harm than good.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young man, leaning over on to the table, looked his senior
+curiously in the face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Don't you know that He is Christ--not in your heart of hearts?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The question, and the tone of complete conviction with which it was
+put, seemed to cause the Archbishop some disturbance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My dear young friend, the hot blood of youth is in your veins; it
+makes you move faster than we old men. You are moved, I think, easily
+in this direction and in that, and are perhaps temperamentally
+disposed to take a good deal for granted.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'm sorry you don't know. You yourself will be sorry afterwards.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'After what?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This again was Hailsham.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'After He has gone. He may not stay for long.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Trent, I find you a most interesting study. I won't do you the
+injustice to wonder if your attitude can be by any possibility a
+pose, but it takes a great deal for granted. For instance, it
+presumes that the legends found in what are called the four gospels
+are historical documents, which no man has believed yet.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This roused the Archbishop.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My lord, this is a monstrous assertion. It is to brand a great
+multitude of the world's best and greatest as liars--the whole host
+of the confessors!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'They were the victims of self-delusion. There are degrees of belief.
+I have endeavoured to realise Christ as He is pictured in the
+gospels. I am sure no real believer of that Christ ever was a member
+of any church with which I am acquainted. That Christ is in ludicrous
+contrast with all that has been or is called Christianity.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Secretary interposed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Gently, Hailsham! How have we managed to wander into this
+discussion? If you are ready, gentlemen, we will go into the
+drawing-room. One or two ladies have promised to join us after
+dinner; I think we may find that some of them are already there.
+Archbishop, Hailsham will stultify himself by dragging religion into
+the sphere of practical politics yet.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I won't rest,' declared the Archbishop, as he rose from his chair,
+'until I have seen this man.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Be careful how you commit yourself, and be sure that you are in good
+bodily health, and free from any sort of nervous trouble, before you
+go. Because, otherwise, it is quite within the range of possibility
+that you won't rest afterwards. And in any case you run a risk. My
+impression is that my suspicions will be verified before long, and
+that it will be seen only too plainly that this person is a grave
+public danger.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was Sir William Braidwood. Lord Hailsham exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That suggests something. What do you say, Trent, to our going
+to-morrow to pay our respects together?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Duke smiled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We should be odd associates. But I don't think that would matter. He
+knows that your opportunities have perhaps been small, and that your
+capacity is narrow. You might find a friend in Him after all. What a
+good thing it would be for you if you did!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Hailsham laughed outright.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Will you come?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I think not, until He calls me. I shall meet Him face to face in His
+own good time.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Hailsham laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Do you know, I'm inclined to ask myself if I haven't chanced upon a
+Christian after all. I didn't know there was such a thing. But I'm
+beginning to wonder. If you really are a Christian after His pattern,
+you've the best of it. If I'm right, I gain nothing. But if you're
+right, what don't I lose?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young man said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He knows.'</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>III</h1>
+
+<h1><a name="div1_passion" href="#div1Ref_passion">The Passion of the People</a></h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">THE HUNT AND THE HOME</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Wherever that day the Stranger went, He was observed of the people.
+It had been stated in a newspaper that a lame man seemed to be His
+invariable companion. The fact that such an one did limp at His side
+served as a mark of recognition; also the charcoal-burner, still in
+the attire in which he plied his forest trade, was an unusual figure
+in a London street. Mr. Treadman, issuing from the house at Maida
+Vale, had been unable to penetrate the crowd which closed behind
+them, so that his vociferous proclamations of identity were absent.
+Still, such a trio moving together through the London streets were
+hardly likely to escape observation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Not that, for the most part, the Stranger's proceedings were marked
+by the unusual. He passed from street to street, looking at what
+was about Him, standing before the shops examining their contents,
+showing that sort of interest in His surroundings which denotes
+the visitor to town. Again and again He stopped to consider the
+passers-by, how they were as a continual stream.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'They are so many, and among them are so few!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When He reached the top of Ludgate Hill, He looked up at St. Paul's
+Cathedral.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This is a great house which men have builded. Let us go in.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When they were in, He said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The Lord is not absent from this house. It is sweet to enter the
+place where they call upon His Name. If He were in their hearts, and
+not only on their tongues!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A service was commencing. He joined the worshippers. There were many
+there that day who rejoiced exceedingly, although they knew not why.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the service was over, and they were out in the street again, He
+said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is good that the work of men's hands should be for the glory of
+God; yet if to build a house in His Name availed much, how full would
+the courts of heaven be. This He desires: a clean heart in a clean
+body; for where there is no sin He is. How does it profit a man to
+build unto God if he lives unto the world?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When they came into Cheapside people were flocking into the
+restaurants for their mid-day meal. He said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come, let us go with them; let us also eat.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Entering, food was brought to them. The place was full. There was one
+man who, as he went out, spoke to the proprietor:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is the man of whom they are all talking. I know it. He
+frightens me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He frightens you! What has he done?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is not that he has done anything; it is that I dare not sit by
+him--I dare not. Let me go.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Are you sure that it is he?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am very sure. Here is the money for what I have had--take it.
+Don't trouble about the change; only let me go.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The speaker rushed into the street like one flying from the wrath to
+come.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were those who had heard what he had said. Immediately it was
+whispered among them that He of whom such strange tales were told was
+in their very midst. Presently one said to the other:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My daughter is dying of consumption; I wonder if he could do
+anything to cure her.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A second said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My wife's sick of a fever. It might be worth my while to see if he
+could save further additions to my doctor's bill.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A third:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I've a cousin who's deformed--can't do anything for himself--a
+burden on all his friends. Now, if he could be made like the rest of
+us, what a good thing it would be for everyone concerned!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A fourth:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My father's suffering from some sort of brain disease. It's not
+enough to enable us to declare him legally insane, but it's more than
+sufficient to cause him to let his business go to rack and ruin. We
+don't know where it will end if the thing goes on. If this worker of
+wonders could do anything to make the dad the man he used to be!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were others who told similar tales. Soon they came to where He
+sat, each with his own petition. When he had heard them to an end, He
+said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You ask always; what is it you give?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They were silent, for among them were not many givers. He said
+further:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He among you who loves God, his prayer shall be answered.' Yet they
+were still. 'Is there not one who loves Him?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Among those whom you healed this morning, how many were there who,
+as you call it, love God? Yet you healed them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Though I heal your bodies, your souls I cannot heal. As I said to
+them, I say to you: Go in peace, and sin no more.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They went out guiltily, as men whose consciences troubled them. It
+was told up and down the street that He was there. So that when He
+came out a crowd was gathered at the door. Some of those who had
+petitioned Him had proclaimed that He had refused their requests; for
+so they had interpreted His words. When He appeared one cried in the
+crowd:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why didn't you heal them, like you did the others?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And another:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It seems easy enough, considering that you've only got to say a
+word.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A third:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Shame! Only a word, and he wouldn't say it.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As if under the inspiration of some malign influence, the crowd,
+showing sudden temper, pressed upon Him. Someone shook his fist in
+His face, mocking Him:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Go on! Go on back where you come from! We don't want you here!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A big man forced his way through the people. When he had reached the
+Stranger's side he turned upon them in a rage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You blackguards, and worse than blackguards--you fools! What is it
+you think you are doing? This morning he healed a great crowd of
+things like you; you know it--you can't deny it. What does it matter
+who he is, or what he is? He has done you nothing but good, and in
+return what would you do to him? Shame upon you, shame!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They fell back before the speaker's fiery words and the menace which
+was in his bearing. The Stranger said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, your vehemence is great. You are not far from those that know
+Me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The big man replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Whether I know you or whether I don't, I don't care to stand idly by
+when there are a hundred setting upon one. Besides, from all I hear,
+you've been doing great things for the sick and suffering, and the
+man who does that can always count upon me to lend him a hand.
+Though, mark my words, he who lays a crowd under an obligation is in
+danger. There is nothing to be feared so much as the gratitude of the
+many.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Police appearing, the crowd in part dispersed. The Stranger began to
+make His way along the pavement, the big man at His side. Still, many
+of the people went with them, who being joined by others, frequently
+blocked the way. Locomotion becoming difficult, a police sergeant
+approached the Stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If you take my advice, sir, you'll get into a cab and drive off. We
+don't want to have any trouble with a lot like this, and I don't
+think we shall be able to stop them from following you without
+trouble.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The big man said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Better do as the sergeant advises. Now that you have the reputation
+of working miracles, if you don't want to keep on reeling them off
+all day and all night too, you'd better take up your abode on the top
+of some inaccessible mountain, and conceal the fact that you are
+there. They'll make a raree-show of you if they can; and if they
+can't they'll perhaps turn ugly. Better let the sergeant call a cab--
+here are these idiots on to us again!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He turned into the crowd.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Let me go about My Father's business.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They remained where they were, and let Him go.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But He had not gone far before He was perceived of others. It was
+told how He had performed another miracle by holding back the people
+at the Mansion House. Among the common sort there was at once a
+desire to see a further illustration of His powers. Throughout the
+afternoon they pressed upon Him more or less, sometimes fading away
+at the bidding of the police, sometimes swelling to an unwieldy
+throng. For the most part they pursued Him with shouts and cries.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Do something--go on! Show us a miracle! Stop us from coming any
+further! Let's see how you do it!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As the evening came He found Himself in a certain street in Islington
+where were private houses. The people pressed still closer; their
+cries grew louder, their importunity increasing because He gave them
+no heed. The police continually urged Him to call a cab and so
+escape. But He asked:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Where shall I go? In what place shall I hide? How shall I do My
+Father's business if I seek a burrow beneath the ground?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The constable replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's no affair of ours. You can see for yourself that this sort of
+thing can't be allowed to go on. If it does, I shouldn't be surprised
+if we had to look you up for your own protection. They'll do you a
+mischief if you don't look out.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What have I done to them, save healing those that were sick?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'm not here to answer such questions. All I know is some queer
+ideas are getting about the town. If you knew anything about a London
+mob, you'd understand that the less you had to do with it the
+better.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Someone called to the Stranger out of one of the little gardens which
+were in front of the houses.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come in here, sir, come in here! don't stand on ceremony; give those
+rascals the slip.' The speaker came down to the gate, shouting at the
+people. 'A lot of cowards I call you--yes, a lot of dirty cowards!
+What has he done to you that you hound him about like this? Nothing,
+I'll be bound. If the police did their duty, they'd mow you down like
+grass.' He held the gate open. 'Come in, sir, come in! I can see by
+the look of you that you're an honest man; and it shan't be said that
+an honest man was chivied past George Kinloch's door by such scum as
+this without being offered shelter.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I thank you. I have here with Me two friends.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Bring them along with you; I can find room for three.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger and His two disciples entered the gate. As they passed
+into the house the people groaned; there were cat-calls and cries of
+scorn. Mr. Kinloch, standing on his doorstep, shouted back at them:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You clamouring curs! It is such creatures as you that disgrace
+humanity, and make one ashamed of being a man. Back to your kennels!
+herd with your kind! gloat on the offal that you love!' To the
+Stranger he exclaimed: 'I must apologise to you, sir, for the
+behaviour of these vagabonds. As a fellow-citizen of theirs, I feel I
+owe you an apology. I've no notion what you've done to offend them,
+but I'm pretty sure that the right is on your side.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I have done nothing, except heal some that were sick.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Heal some that were sick? Why, you don't mean to say---- Are you he
+of whom all the world is talking? Ada! Nella! Lily!' The three whom
+he called came hastening. 'Here is he of whom we were speaking. It is
+he whom that swarm of riff-raff has been chivying. Bid him welcome!
+Sir, I am glad to have you for a guest, though only for a little.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When He had washed and made ready He found them assembled in the best
+room of the house. The lamps were lit, the curtains drawn; within was
+peace. But through the window came the voices of the people in the
+street. Mr. Kinloch did his utmost to entertain his guest with
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'These are my three daughters, as you have probably supposed. Their
+mother is dead.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I know their mother.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You knew her? Indeed! When and where? It must have been before she
+was married, because I don't seem to recognise your face.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I knew her before she was married, and after, and I know her now.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Now? My dear sir, she's dead!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Such as she do not die.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Kinloch stared. The girl Ada touched him on the arm:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mother is in heaven; do you not understand?' She went with her
+sisters and stood before Him. 'It is so good to look upon Your face.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You have seen it from of old.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then darkly, not as now, in the light.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Would that all the world saw Me in the light as you do! Then would
+My Father's brightness shine out upon all men, as does the sun. But
+yet they love the darkness rather than the light.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Kinloch inquired, being puzzled:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is this? Have you met this gentleman before? Is he a friend of
+yours as well as of your mother's? I thought I knew something of all
+your acquaintance. I've always tried to make a rule of doing so. How
+comes it that you womenfolk have had a friend of whom I've been told
+nothing?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ada replied to his question with another.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Father, do you not know Christ?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My dear girl, don't speak to me as if you were one of those women
+who go about with tracts in their hands! Haven't I always observed
+your mother's wishes, and seen that you went regularly to church?
+What do you mean by addressing your father as if he were a heathen?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This is Christ.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This? Girl, this is a man!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Father, have you forgotten that Christ was made man?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yes, but that--that's some time ago.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He is made man again. Don't you understand?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'No, I don't. Sir, I'm not what you might call very intellectual, and
+it's taken me all my time to find the means to bring these girls up
+as young women ought to be brought up. I suppose it's because I'm
+stupid, but, while I'll write myself down a Christian with any man,
+there's a lot of mystery about religion which is beyond my
+comprehension. There's a deal about you in the papers. I'm told
+you've been doing a wonderful amount of good to many who were beyond
+the reach of human help. For that I say, God bless you!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger said: 'Amen.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'At the same time there's much that is being said which I don't
+understand. I don't know who you are, or what you are, except that
+it's pretty clear to me that a man who has been doing what you have
+can't be very far from heaven; and if I ought to know, I'm sorry. God
+gave me a good wife, and she gave me three daughters who are like
+her. She's in heaven--I don't need anyone to tell me that; and if
+they'll only let her know, when they meet her among the angels, that
+I loved her while I'd breath, so long as she and they have all they
+want for ever and for ever, I don't care what God thinks it right to
+do with me. The end and aim of my life has been to make my wife and
+her children happy. If they're happy in heaven I'll be happy, too.
+That's a kind of happiness of which it will not be easy to deprive
+me, no matter where I am.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You are nearer to Me than you think.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Am I? We'll hope so. I like you; I like your looks; I like your
+voice; I like your ways; I like what you have brought into the house
+with you--it's a sort of a kind of peace. As Ada says--she knows; God
+tells that girl things which perhaps I'm too stupid to be told--it's
+good to look upon your face. Whatever happens in the time to come, I
+never shall be sorry that I've had a chance to see it.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You never shall.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A voice louder than the rest was heard shouting in the street:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Show us another miracle!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ada said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You hear that? Why, father, I do believe that a miracle is beginning
+to be worked in you!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She smiled at him. He took her in his arms and kissed her.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">THEY THAT WOULD ASK WITH A THREAT</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a meeting of Universalists. This was a society whose
+meeting-place was in Soho. It called itself a club, using the word in
+a sense of its own, for anyone was admitted to its membership who
+chose to join; and, as a rule, all comers, whether members or not,
+were free to attend its meetings. It was a focus for discontent. To
+it came from all parts of the world the discontented, examples of
+that huge concourse which has a grudge against what is called
+Society--not of the silent part, which is in the majority, but of
+that militant section whose constant endeavour it is to goad the dumb
+into speech, in the hope and trust that the distance between speech
+and action will not be great.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The place was packed. There were women there as well as
+men--young and old--representatives of most of the nations which
+describe themselves as civilised; their common bond a common misery.
+The talk was old. But in the atmosphere that night was something new.
+Bellows had given vitality to the embers which smouldered in their
+hearts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Henry Walters was speaking. They listened to him with a passionate
+eagerness which suggested how alluring was the dream which he
+proposed to wrest out of the arena of visions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I said to a policeman as I was coming in that I believed we were
+going to have our turn. He laughed. The police have had all the
+laughing. We'll laugh soon. We've been looking for a miracle,
+recognising that a miracle was the only thing that could help us. The
+arrival of a worker of miracles is a new factor in the situation with
+which the police, and all they represent, will have to reckon. It's
+just possible that they mayn't find him an easy reckoning. He who can
+raise a woman from the dead with a word can just as easily turn
+London upside down, and the police with it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We've heard of taking the kingdom of heaven by violence. I believe
+that it has been recommended by high authorities as a desirable
+method of procedure. I propose to try it. I propose we go to-morrow
+morning to this worker of miracles, saying: &quot;You see how our wrongs
+ascend as a dense smoke unto Heaven. Put an end to them, so that they
+may cease to be an offence unto God.&quot; He has shown that he has bowels
+of compassion. I believe, if we put this plainly to him, with all the
+force that is in us, that the greatest of his miracles will be worked
+for us. If he will heal the sick, he will heal us; for we are sick
+unto more than death, since our pains have dragged us unto the gates
+of hell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The fashion of the healing we had better leave to him. Let us but
+point out that we come into the court of his justice asking for our
+rights; if he will give us what is ours we need not trouble about the
+manner of the giving. Let us but remind him that in the sight of God
+all men are equal; if he restores to us our equality, what does it
+matter how he does it? For the substance let the shadow go. But on so
+much we must insist; we must have the substance. We must be healed of
+our diseases, cured of our sores, relieved of our infirmities. If our
+just prayer is quickly heard, good. If not, the kingdom of heaven
+must be taken by violence, and shall be, if we are men and women. How
+are we profited, though miracles are worked for others, if none are
+worked for us? We stand most in need of the miraculous--none could
+come into this room, and see us, and deny it!--and we'll have it, or
+we'll know the reason why. He can scarcely smite us more heavily than
+we are already smitten. I wish to use no threats. I trust no one else
+will use them. I'm hopeful, since he has shown that he has sympathy
+for suffering, that he'll show sympathy for our sufferings. But--I
+say it not as a threat, but as a plain statement of a plain fact--if
+he won't do his best for us, we'll do our worst to him. God grant,
+however, that at last a Saviour has come to us in very deed!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Walters stopped a score of persons sprang to their feet. The
+chairman called upon a German, one Hans Küntz, wild, lean, unkempt,
+with something of frenzy in his air. He spoke English with a
+volubility which was only mastered by an occasional idiom; in a thin
+falsetto voice which was like a continuous shriek.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am hungry; that is not new. In the two small rooms where I live I
+have a wife and children who are also hungry; that also is not new. I
+run the risk of becoming more hungry by coming out to-night, and
+leaving work that must be finished by the morning. But when I hear
+that there is come to London one who can raise people from the dead,
+I say to my wife: &quot;Then He can raise us too.&quot; My wife says: &quot;Go and
+see.&quot; So to see I am come. With Mr. Walters I say, Let us all go and
+see--all, all that great London which when it works starves slowly,
+and when it does not work starves fast. We need not speak. We need
+but show Him our faces, how the skin but covers our bones. If he is
+not a devil, he will do to us what he has done to others: he will
+heal us and make us free. What I fear is that it is exaggerated what
+he has done--I have got beyond the region of hope. But if it is true,
+if but the half of it is true--if this morning he healed that crowd
+of people with a word, why should he not do the same to us? Why? Why?
+Did they deserve more than we? Are our needs not greater? We are the
+victims of others' sins. We are the slaves who sow, and reap, and
+garner, and yet are only suffered to eat the husks of the great
+stores of grain for which we give our lives. Surely this healer of
+the sick will give us a chance to live as men should live, and to
+die, when our time comes, as men should die! Oh, my brothers, if God
+has come among us He'll know! He'll know! And if He is a God of
+mercy, a God of love, and not a Siva, a destroyer, who delights in
+the groans and cries of bruised and broken hearts and lives, we have
+but to make to Him our petition, and He'll wipe the tears out of our
+eyes. To-night it is late, but in the morning, early, let us all go
+to Him--all! all!--all go!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Out of the throng who were eager to speak next a woman was chosen--
+middle-aged, decently dressed, with fair hair and quiet eyes. Her
+voice was low, yet distinct, her manner calm, her language
+restrained, her bearing judicial rather than argumentative.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Brothers Küntz and Walters seem to take it for granted that the God
+of the Christians is a God of love. I thought so when I was a child;
+I know better now. The idea seems to be supported in the present case
+by the fact that the person of whom we have heard so much has done
+works of healing, of mercy. It is not clear that, in all cases, to
+heal is to be merciful. Apart from that consideration, I would point
+out that the works in question have been spasmodic rather than
+continuous, the fruits, apparently, of momentary whims rather than of
+a settled policy. This afternoon his assistance was invited in
+similar cases. He declined. The crowd continually entreated him to do
+unto them as he had done unto others. Their requests were
+persistently ignored. It is plain, therefore, that one has not only
+to ask to receive. Nor is any attempt made to differentiate between
+the justice of contending claims. If this person is Divine, which I,
+personally, take leave to more than doubt, he is irresponsible. His
+actions are dependent on the mood of the moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am not saying this with any desire to throw cold water on the
+proposition which has been made to us. On the contrary, I think the
+suggestion that we should go to him in a body--as large a body as
+possible--and request his good offices on our behalf, an excellent
+one. At the same time, I cannot lose sight of one fact: that it is
+one thing to pray; to receive a satisfactory answer--or, indeed, an
+answer of any sort to one's prayer--is quite another. In our childish
+days we have prayed, believing, in vain. In the acuter agonies of our
+later years prayers have been wrung from us--always, still, in vain.
+There seems no adequate reason why, in the present case, we should
+pin our faith to the efficacy of prayer alone. The disease has always
+existed. Why should we suppose that the remedy has become accessible
+to whoever chooses to ask for it? If this person is Divine, he knows
+what we suffer; has always known, yet has done nothing. We are told
+that God is unchangeable, the same for ever and ever. The history of
+the world sustains this theory, inasmuch as it has always been
+replete with human suffering. That, therefore, disposes of any notion
+that it is at all likely that he has suddenly become sensitive to
+mere cries of pain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I would lay stress on one word which Brother Walters used more than
+once: violence. We are confronted with an opportunity which may never
+recur, and may vanish if not used quickly. Here is a person who has
+done remarkable things. The presumption is that he can do other
+remarkable things for us, if he chooses. He must be made to choose.
+That is the position.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Let us clear our minds of cant. We are going to him with a good
+case. The reality of our grievances, the justice of our claims, he
+scarcely will be prepared to deny. Still, you will find him unwilling
+to do anything for us. Probably, assuming an air of Divine
+irresponsibility, he will decline to listen, or to discuss our case
+at all. Such is my own conviction. There will be a general rush for
+him to-morrow. All sorts and conditions of people will have an axe of
+their own to grind. In the confusion, ours will be easily and
+conveniently ignored. Therefore, I say, we must go in as large a body
+as possible, force him to give us an interview, compel him to accede
+to our request--that is, speak for us the same kind of word which he
+spoke for those sick people this morning. If he strikes us dead,
+he'll do himself no good and us no harm, for many of us would sooner
+be dead than as we are. Unless he does strike us dead we ought to
+stick to him until we have wrung from him our desire. It is possible
+that this is a case in which resolution may succeed. At the worst, in
+our plight, with everything to gain, and nothing--nothing--to lose,
+the attempt is one which is worth making, on the understanding that
+we will not take no for an answer, but will use all possible means to
+win a yes. We must make it as plain as it can be made that, if he
+will do nothing for us, he shall do nothing for others, at least on
+earth. What does it matter to us who enters heaven if the door is
+slammed in our faces?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next speaker was a man in corduroy trousers and a jacket and
+waistcoat which had once been whity-gray. He wore a cloth cap, and
+round his throat an old red handkerchief. His eyes moved uneasily
+in his head; when they were at rest they threatened. His face was
+clean-shaven, his voice husky. While he spoke, he kept his hands in
+his trousers pockets and his cap on his head. He plunged at once into
+the heart of what he had to say.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I was one of them as shouted out this afternoon, &quot;Show us a
+miracle!&quot; And I was down at Maida Vale this morning, almost
+on top of them poor creatures as was more dead than alive. He just
+came out of the house, said two or three words, though what they was
+I couldn't catch, and there they was as right as if there'd never
+been nothing the matter with 'em, running about like you and me. And
+yet when I asked him to do something for me, though it'd have only
+cost him a word to do it--not he! He just walked on. I'm broke to the
+wide. Tuppence I've had since yesterday--not two bob this week. What
+I wanted was something to eat--just enough to keep me going till I'd
+a chance of a job. But though he done that this morning--and some
+queer ones there was among the crowd, I tell you!--he wouldn't pay
+attention to me, wouldn't even listen. What I want to know is, Why
+not? And that's what I mean to know before I've done.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sentiment met with approval. There were sympathetic murmurs. He
+was not the only hungry man in that audience.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'm in trouble--had the influenza, or whatever they call it, and
+lost my job. Never had one since. Jobs ain't easy found by blokes
+what seems dotty on their pins. My wife's in gaol--as honest a woman
+as ever lived; she'd have wore herself to the bone for me. Landlord
+wanted his rent; we hadn't a brown; I was down on my back; she didn't
+want me turned out into the street while I was like that, so she went
+and pawned some shirts what she'd got to iron. They gave her three
+months for it. She'd done two of 'em last Monday. Kid died last week
+and was buried by the parish. Gawd knows what she'll say when she
+hears of it when she comes out. Altogether I seem fairly off my
+level. So I say what the lady afore me says: Let's all go to him in
+the morning, and get him to understand how it is with us, and get him
+to say a word as'll do us good. And if he won't, why, as she says,
+we'll make him! That's all.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was no chance of choosing a successor from among the numerous
+volunteers. A man who seemed just insane enough to be dangerous chose
+himself. He broke into a vehement flood of objurgation, writhing and
+gesticulating as if desirous of working himself into a greater frenzy
+than he was in already. He had not been on his feet a minute before
+he had brought a large portion of his audience into a similar
+condition to himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Make him, make him! That's the keynote. Share and share alike,
+that's our motto. No favouritism! The world stinks of favouritism;
+we'll have no more of it from him. We'll let him know it. What he
+does for one he must do for all. If he were to come into this room
+this minute, and were to help half of us, it would be the duty of all
+of us to go for him because he'd left the other half unhelped. He's
+been healing, has he? Who? Somebody. Not us. Why not us as well as
+them? He's got to give us what we want just as he gave them what they
+want, if we have to take him by the throat to take it out of him!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We will that!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Only got to say a word, has he, and the trick's done? Then he shall
+say that word for us, as he has for others, if we have to drag his
+tongue out by the roots to get at it!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's it--that's the way to talk!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Work a miracle, can he, every time he opens his mouth? Then he shall
+work the miracles we want, or, by the living God, he shall never work
+another!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The words were greeted with a chorus of approving shouts. The fellow
+screamed on. As his ravings grew worse, the excitement of his
+auditors waxed greater. Buffeted all their lives, as it seemed to
+them, by adverse winds, they were incapable of realising that they
+were in any way the victims of their own bad seamanship. For that
+incapacity, perhaps, they were not entirely to blame. They did not
+make themselves. That they should have been fashioned out of such
+poor materials was not the least of their misfortunes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And their pains and griefs, humiliations and defeats, had been so
+various and so many that it was not strange that their wit had been
+abraded to the snapping-point; the more especially since it had been
+of such poor quality at first.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">THE ASKING</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">In the morning the thoughts of England were turned towards that house
+in Islington: and no small number of its people were on their way to
+it. The newspapers besieged it with their representatives--on a
+useless quest, though their columns did not lack news on that
+account. Throughout the night the crowd increased in the street. The
+authorities began to be concerned. They acted as if the occasion of
+public interest was a fire. Placing a strong cordon of police at
+either end of the road, they made of it a private thoroughfare; only
+persons with what were empirically regarded as credentials were
+permitted to pass. Only after considerable hesitation was sickness
+allowed to be a passport. When it was officially decided to admit the
+physically suffering an extraordinary scene began to be enacted. It
+almost seemed as if all the hospitals and sick-rooms of London had
+been emptied of their occupants. They came in an unceasing stream.
+The police displayed their wonted skill in the management of the
+amazing crowd. Those who had been brought on beds were placed in the
+front ranks; those on chairs next; those who could stand, though only
+with the aid of crutches, at the back. The people had to be forced
+farther and farther away to make room for the sick that came; and yet
+before it was full day admission had to be refused to any more--every
+foot of available ground was occupied.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were doctors present, some of whom were dissatisfied with the
+turn matters were taking. Perceiving, perhaps, that if it continued
+their occupation would be gone, they represented to the police that
+if certain of the sufferers did not receive immediate attention they
+might die. So that at an early hour their chief, Colonel Hardinge,
+who had just arrived, knocked at Mr. Kinloch's door. Ada opened.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I understand that he whom these unfortunate people have come to see
+is at present in this house.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The Lord is in this house.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Quite so. We won't quarrel about description. The fact is, I'm told
+that if something isn't done for these poor creatures at once,
+they'll die. So, with your permission, I'll see the--er--person.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is not with my permission, but with His. He is the Lord. When He
+wishes to see you, well. He does not wish to see you now.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She shut the door in the Colonel's face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's an abrupt young lady!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This he said to the doctors and other persons who were standing at
+the gate. Among them was Sir William Braidwood, who replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I don't know that she isn't right.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It's all very well for you to talk like that, but what am I to do?
+You tell me with one breath that if something isn't done people will
+die, and with another that because I try to get something done I
+merit a snubbing.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Exactly. This isn't a public institution; the girl has a right to
+resent your treating it as if it were. These people oughtn't to be
+here at all. Those who are responsible for some of them ought to be
+made to stand their trial for murder. This person, whoever he is, has
+promised nothing. They have not the slightest claim upon him. They
+are here as a pure speculation. Your men are to blame for allowing
+them to assemble in such a fashion, not the girl who endeavours to
+protect her guest from intrusion.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Someone called out from the crowd:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Ain't he coming, sir? I'm fair finished, I am--been here six hours.
+I'm clean done up.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What right have you to be there at all? You ought to be at home in
+bed.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I've come to be healed.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Come to be healed! I suppose if you want a hatful of money, you
+think you've only got to ask for it. You've no right to be here.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Murmurs arose--cries, prayers, stifled execrations. An inspector said
+to his chief:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If something isn't done, sir, I fancy there'll be trouble. Our men
+have difficulty in keeping order as it is. Half London must be here,
+and they're coming faster than ever. There's an ugly spirit about,
+and some ugly customers. If it becomes known that nothing is going to
+be done for these poor wretches, I don't know what will happen. How
+we are going to get them safely away is more than I can guess.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You hear what Sir William Braidwood says.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Begging Sir William's pardon, it's a choice of evils, and if I were
+you, sir, I should try again. They can't refuse to let you see this
+person. Not that I suppose he can do what they think he can, but
+still there you are.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He can do it.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'With a word?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'With a word.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Then he ought to.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why? I can give you a thousand pounds with a word. But why ought I
+to?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's different.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You'll find that a large number of people don't think it's
+different. These people want the gift of health; others in the crowd
+there want the gift of wealth. I dare wager there's no form of want
+which is not represented in that eager, greedy, lustful multitude.
+The excuse is common to them all: he can give it with a word. I am of
+your opinion, there will be trouble; because so many persons
+misunderstand the situation.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Colonel Hardinge arrived at a decision:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I think I will have another try. We can't have these people here all
+day, so if he won't have anything to do with them, the sooner they
+are cleared out of this, the better. What I have to do is to find out
+how it's going to be.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He knocked again. This time the door was opened by Mr. Kinloch, who
+at once broke into voluble speech.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It was you who came just now; what do you mean by coming again?
+What's the meaning of these outrageous proceedings? Can't I have a
+guest in my house without being subjected to this abominable
+nuisance?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I grant the nuisance, but would point out to you, sir, that we are
+the victims of it as well as you. If you will permit me to see your
+guest I will explain to him the position in a very few words. On his
+answer will depend our action.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My guest desires to be private; I must insist upon his privacy being
+respected. My daughter has been speaking to him. She tells me that he
+says that he has nothing to do with these people, and that they have
+nothing to do with him.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If that is the case, and that is really what he says, and I am to
+take it for an answer, then the matter is at an end.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ada's voice was heard at the back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Father, the Lord is coming.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger came to the door. In a moment the Colonel's hat was in
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I beg a thousand pardons, sir, for what I cannot but feel is an
+intrusion; but the fact is, these foolish people have got it into
+their heads that they have only to ask you, and you will restore them
+to health. Am I to understand, and to give them to understand, that
+in so thinking they are under an entire delusion?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I will speak to them.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger stood upon the doorstep. When they saw Him they began to
+press against each other, crying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Heal us! Heal us!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why should I heal you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a momentary silence. Then someone said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Because you healed those others.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What they have you desire. It is so with you always. You cry to Me
+continually, Give! give! What is it you have given Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The same voice replied:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We have nothing to give.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You come to Me with a lie upon your lips.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The fellow threw up his arms, crying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Lord! Lord! have mercy on me, Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He answered:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Those among you that have given Me aught, though it is never so
+little, they shall be healed.' No one spoke or moved. 'Behold how
+many are the cheerful givers! I come not to give, but to receive. I
+seek My own, and find it not. All men desire something, offering
+nothing. This great city, knowing Me not, asks Me continually for
+what I have to give. Though I gave all it craves, it would be still
+farther off from heaven. It prizes not that which it has, but covets
+that which is another's, hating it because it is his. Return whence
+you came; cleanse your bodies; purify your hearts; think not always
+of yourselves; lift up your eyes; seek continually the knowledge of
+God. When you know Him but a thousandth part as He knows you, you
+need ask Him nothing, for He will give you all that you desire.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With that He returned into the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When they saw Him go an outcry at once arose.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is that all? Only talk? Why, any parson could pitch a better yarn
+than that! Isn't He going to do anything? Isn't He going to heal us?
+What, not after healing those people yesterday at Maida Vale, and
+after our coming all this way and waiting all this time?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The rougher sort who could use their limbs began to press forward
+towards the house, forcing down those who were weaker, many of whom
+filled the air with their cries and groans and curses. The police did
+their best to stem the confusion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There came along the avenue on the pavement which the police had kept
+open Henry Walters and certain of his friends. They were escorted by
+a sergeant, who saluted Colonel Hardinge.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This man Walters wants to see the person all the talk's about. There
+are a lot of his friends in the crowd, and rather than have any fuss
+I thought I'd let them come.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Right, sergeant. Mr. Walters is at liberty to see this person if
+this person is disposed to see him, which I'm rather inclined to
+doubt.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We'll see about that,' muttered Walters to his companions, as with
+them he hurried up the steps.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At the top he paused, regarding the poor wretches struggling
+fatuously in the street.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That looks promising for us. So he won't heal them. Why? No reason
+given, I suppose. I dare say he won't heal us; for the same reason.
+Well, we'll see. Mind you shut the front door when we go in. I rather
+fancy we shall want some persuasion before we see the logic of such a
+reason as that.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The door was closed as he suggested. In the hall he was met by Ada.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is it that you want?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You know very well what it is. We want a few words with the stranger
+who is in this house.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is the Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Very well. We want a few words with the Lord.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You cannot enter His presence uninvited.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Can't we? I think you are mistaken. Is He in that room? Stand aside
+and let me see.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You may not pass.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Don't be silly. We're in no mood for manners. Will you move, or must
+I make you? Do you hear? Come away.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He laid his hand upon the girl's shoulder. As he did so the Stranger
+stood in the open door. When they saw Him, and perceived how in
+silence He regarded them, they drew a little back, as if perplexed.
+Then Walters spoke:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'm told that you are Christ.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What has Christ to do with you, or you with Christ?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's not an answer to my question. However, without entering into
+the question of who you are, it seems that you can work wonders when
+you choose.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a pause as if for a reply. The Stranger was still, so
+Walters went on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We represent a number of persons who are as the sands of the sea for
+multitude, the victims of man's injustice and of God's.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'With God there is no injustice.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That is your opinion. We won't argue the point; it's not ours. We
+come to plead the cause of myriads of people who have never known
+happiness from the day they were born. Some of them toil early and
+late for a beggarly wage; many of them are denied the opportunity of
+even doing that. They have tried every legitimate means of bettering
+their condition. They have hoped long, striven often, always to be
+baffled. Their brother men press them back into the mire, and tread
+them down in it. We suggest that their case is worthy your
+consideration. Their plight is worse to-day than it ever was; they
+lack everything. Health some of them never had; they came into the
+world under conditions which rendered it impossible. Most of them who
+had it have lost it long ago. Society compels them to live lives in
+which health is a thing unknown. Their courage has been sapped by
+continuous failure. Hope is dead. Joy they never knew. Misery is
+their one possession. Under these circumstances you will perceive
+that if you desire to do something for them it will not be difficult
+to find something which should be done.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Another pause; still no reply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We do not wish to cumber you with suggestions; we only ask you to do
+something. It will be plain to your sense of justice that there could
+be no fitter subjects for benevolence. Yet all that we request of you
+is to be just. You are showering gifts broadcast. Be just; give also
+something to them to whom nothing ever has been given. I have the
+pleasure to await your answer.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He answered nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What are we to understand by your silence?--that you lack the power,
+or the will? We ask you, with all possible courtesy, for an answer.
+Courtesy useless? Still nothing? There is a limit even to our
+civility. Understand, also, that we mean to have an answer--somehow.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ada touched him on the arm, whispering:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is the Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is he a friend of yours?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He is a Friend of all the world.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It doesn't look like it at present, though we hope to find it the
+case before we've finished. Come, sir! You hear what this young lady
+says of you. We're waiting to hear how you propose to show that
+you're a friend of that great host of suffering souls on whose behalf
+we've come to plead to you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet He was still. Walters turned to his associates.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You see how it is? It's as I expected, as was foreseen last night.
+If we want anything, we've got to take the kingdom of heaven by
+violence. Are we going to take it, or are we going to sneak away with
+our tails between our legs?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The woman answered who had spoken at the meeting the night before--
+the fair-haired woman, with the soft voice and quiet eyes:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We are going to take it.' She went close to the Stranger. 'Answer
+the question which has been put to you.' When He continued silent,
+she struck Him on the cheek with her open palm, saying: 'Coward!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ada came rushing forward with her father and her sisters. With a
+movement of His hand He kept them back. Walters applauded the woman's
+action.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That's right--for a beginning; but he'll want more than that. Let me
+talk to him.' He occupied the woman's place. 'We've nothing to lose.
+You may strike us dead; we may as well be dead as living the sort of
+life with which we are familiar; it is a living death. I defy you to
+cast us into a worse hell than that in which we move all day and
+every day. If you are Christ, you have a chance of winning more
+adherents than were ever won for you by all the preaching through all
+the ages, and with a few words. If you are man, we will make you king
+over all the earth, and all the world will cry with one heart and one
+voice: &quot;God save the King!&quot; And whether you are Christ or man, every
+heart will be filled with your praises, and night and morning old and
+young will call with blessings on your name. Is not that a prospect
+pleasing even unto God? And all this for the utterance of perhaps a
+dozen words. That is one side of the shield. Does it not commend
+itself to you? I ask you for an answer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'None? Still dumb? I'll show you something of the other side. If you
+are resolute to shut your ears to our cries, and your eyes to our
+misery, we'll crucify you again. Don't think that those police
+outside will help you, or anything of that sort, because you'll be
+nursing a delusion. You'll be crucified by a world in arms. When it
+is known that with a word you can dry the tears that are in men's
+eyes, and yet refuse to utter it--when that is generally known, it
+will be sufficient. For it will have been clearly demonstrated that
+you must be a monster of whom the world must be rid at all and any
+cost. Given such a capacity, none but a monster would refuse to
+exercise it. And the fact that, according to some narrow code of
+scholastic reasoning, you may be a faultless monster will make the
+fact worse, not better. For faultlessness of that sort is in
+continual, cruel, crushing opposition to poor, weak, human nature.
+Now will you give me an answer?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When none came, and His glance continued fixed upon the other's face
+with a strange, unfaltering intensity, Walters went still closer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Shall I shake the answer out of you?' Putting up his hand, he took
+the Stranger by the throat; and when He offered no resistance, began
+to shake Him to and fro. Ada, running forward, struck at Walters with
+so much force that, taken by surprise, he let the Stranger go. She
+cried:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is the Lord! It is the Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What is that to us? Why doesn't he speak when he's spoken to? Is he
+a wooden block? You take care what you do, my girl. You'd be better
+employed in inducing your friend to answer us. Lord or no Lord.
+There'd be no trouble if he'd treat us like creatures of flesh and
+blood. If he'd a spark of feeling in his breast, he'd recognise that
+the very pitifulness of our condition--our misery, our despair!--
+entitles us to something more than the brand of his scornful silence;
+he'd at least answer yes or no unto our prayers.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ada wept as if her heart would break, sobbing out from amidst her
+grief:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is the Christ! It is the Lord Christ!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her father, forcing his way to the front door, had summoned
+assistance. A burly sergeant came marching in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What's the matter here? Oh, Mr. Walters, it's you! You're not wanted
+in here. Out you go--all of you. If you take my advice you'll go
+home, and you'll get your friends to go home too. There'll be some
+trouble if you don't take care!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Go home? Sergeant, you see that Man? Have you anywhere a tender
+place? Is there any little thing which, if you had it, would make
+your life brighter and more worth the living? That Man, by the
+utterance of a word, can make of your life one long, glad song; give
+you everything you are righteously entitled to deserve; so they tell
+me. Go home to the kennels in which we herd when the Christ who has
+come to release us from our bondage will not move a finger, or do
+aught to loose our bonds, but, seeing how we writhe in them, stands
+mutely by? No, sergeant. We'll not go home till we've had a reckoning
+with Him.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He stretched out his arm, pointing at the Stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'll meet you at another Calvary. You've crucified me and mine
+through the ages, and would crucify us still, finding it a royal
+sport at which it were blasphemy to cavil. Beware lest, in return,
+you yourself are not crucified again.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Walters and his associates had gone, the sergeant said,
+addressing the Stranger:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'm only doing my duty in telling you that the sooner you clear out
+of this, the better it'll be for everyone concerned. You're getting
+yourself disliked in a way which may turn out nasty for you, in spite
+of anything we can do. There's half a dozen people dead out in the
+street because of you, and there's worse to come, so take my tip and
+get out the back way somewhere. Find a new address, and when you have
+found it keep it to yourself. We don't want to have London turned
+upside down for anyone, no matter who it is.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sergeant went. And then words came from the Stranger's lips, as
+if they had been wrung from His heart; for the sweat stood on His
+brow:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Father, is it, then, for this that I am come to the children that
+call upon My Name in this great city, where on every hand are
+churches built for men to worship Christ? What is this idol which
+they have fashioned, calling it after My Name, so that wherever I go
+I find a Christ which is not Me? Lord! Lord! they cry; and when the
+Lord comes they say, It is not you we called, but another. They deny
+Me to My face. The things I would they know not. In their blindness,
+knowing nothing, they would be gods unto themselves, making of You a
+plaything, the servant of their wills. As of old, they know not what
+they do. Aforetime, by God's chosen people was I nailed unto a tree.
+Am I again to suffer shame at the hands of those that call themselves
+My children? Yet, Father, let it be so if it is Your will.'</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">A SEMINARY PRIEST</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">In the street was riot; confusion which momentarily threatened to
+become worse confounded. In the press were dignitaries of the Church;
+that Archbishop whom we met at dinner; Cardinal De Vere, whose grace
+of bearing ornaments the Roman establishment in England; with him a
+young seminary priest, one Father Nevill. The two high clerics were
+on a common errand. Their carriages encountering each other on the
+outskirts of the crowd, they had accepted the services of a friendly
+constable, who offered to pilot them through the excited people. At
+his heels they came, scarcely in the ecclesiastical state which their
+dignity desired.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As they neared the house they were met by the departing Mr. Walters
+and his friends. Recognising who they were, Walters stopped to shout
+at them in his stentorian tones:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'So the High Priests have come! To do reverence to their Master? To
+prostrate themselves at His feet in the dust, or to play the patron?
+To you, perhaps, He'll condescend; with these who, in their misery,
+trample each other under foot He'll have no commerce; has not even a
+word with which to answer them. But you, Archbishop and Cardinal,
+Princes of His Most Holy Church, perhaps He'll have a hand for each
+of you. For to those that have shall be given, and from those that
+have not shall be taken away. He'll hardly do violence to that most
+excellent Christian doctrine. Tell Him how much you have that should
+be other men's; maybe He'll strip them of their skins to give you
+more.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The constable thrust him aside.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Move on, there! move on! That's enough of that nonsense!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Oh yes,' said Walters, as they forced him back into the seething
+throng; 'oh yes, one soon has enough of nonsense of that kind. Christ
+has come! God help us all!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On the steps that led up to the door a woman fought with the police.
+She was as a mad thing, screaming in her agony:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Let me see Christ! Let me see Him! My daughter's dead! I brought her
+to be healed; she's been killed in the crowd; I want Him to bring her
+back to life. Let me see Christ! Let me see Him!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They would not. Lifting her off her feet, they bore her back among
+the people.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What a terrible scene!' murmured the Archbishop. 'What lamentable
+and dangerous excitement!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You represent a Church, my dear Archbishop,' replied the Cardinal,
+'which advocates the freedom of private judgment. These proceedings
+suggest that your advocacy may have met with even undesired success.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Archbishop, looking about him with dubious glances, said to the
+policeman who had constituted himself their guide:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This sort of thing almost makes one physically anxious. The people
+seem to be half beside themselves.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You may well say that, my lord. I never saw a crowd in such a mood
+before; and I've seen a few. I hear they've sent for the soldiers.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The soldiers? Dear, dear! how infinitely sad!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When they were seen on the steps, guarded by the police, waiting for
+the door to open, the crowd yelled at them. The Archbishop observed
+to his companion:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I'm not sure, after all, that it was wise of me to come. Sometimes
+it is not easy to know what to do for the best. I certainly did not
+expect to find myself in the midst of such a scene of popular
+frenzy.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Said the Cardinal:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It at least enables us to see one phase of Protestant England.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They were admitted by Ada, to whom the Archbishop introduced himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am the Archbishop, and this is Cardinal De Vere. We have come to
+see the person who is the cause of all this turmoil.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ada stopped before the open door of a room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This is the Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Within stood the Stranger, as one who listens to that which he
+desires, yet fears he will not hear: who looks for that for which he
+yearns, yet knows he will not see. The Archbishop fitted his glasses
+on his nose.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is this the person? Really! How very interesting! You don't say so!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Since the Stranger had paid no heed to their advent, the Archbishop
+addressed himself to Him courteously:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Pardon me if this seems an intrusion, or if I have come at an
+inconvenient moment, but I have received such extraordinary accounts
+of your proceedings that, as head of the English Church, I felt bound
+to take them, to some extent, under my official cognisance.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger, looking at him, inquired:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In your churches whom do you worship?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My dear sir! What an extraordinary question!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What idol have you fashioned which you call after My Name?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Idol! Really, really!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why do you cry continually: &quot;Come quickly!&quot; when you would not I
+should come?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What very peculiar questions, betraying a complete ignorance of the
+merest rudiments of common knowledge! Is it possible that you are
+unaware that I am the head of the Christian hierarchy?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Said the Cardinal:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Of the English branch of the Protestant hierarchy, I think,
+Archbishop, you should rather put it. You are hardly the undisputed
+head of even that. Do your Nonconformist friends admit your primacy?
+They form a not inconsiderable section of English Protestantism. When
+informing ignorance let us endeavour to be accurate.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The differences are not essential. We are all branches of one tree,
+whose stem is Christ. To return to the point. This is hardly a
+moment, Cardinal, for theological niceties.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You were tendering information; I merely wished it to be correct,
+for which I must ask you to forgive me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your Eminence is ironical. However, as I said, to return to the
+point. The public mind appears to be in a state of most lamentable
+excitement. The exact cause I do not pretend to understand. But if
+your intentions are what I hope they are, you can scarcely fail to
+perceive that you owe it to yourself to remedy a condition of affairs
+which already promises to be serious. I am told that there is a
+notion abroad that you have advanced pretensions which I am almost
+convinced you have not done. I wish you to inform me, and to give me
+authority to inform the public, who and what you are, and what is the
+purport of your presence here.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I am He that you know not of.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That, my dear sir, is the very point. I am advised that you are
+possessed of some singular powers. I wish to know who the person is
+who has these powers, and how he comes to have them.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There is one of you that knows.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young priest advanced, saying:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I know You, Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger held out to him His hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Welcome, friend!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My Lord and my Master!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While they still stood hand in hand, the Stranger said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There are those that know Me, nor are they few. Yet what are they
+among so many? In all the far places of the world men call upon My
+Name, yet know so little of what is in their hearts that they would
+destroy Me for being He to whom they call.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But shall the day never come when they shall know You?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Of themselves they must find Me out. Not by a miracle shall a man be
+brought unto the knowledge of God.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Cardinal De Vere said to the young priest:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your stock of information appears to be greater than that of your
+spiritual superiors, Father. At Louvain do they teach such
+forwardness, or is this an acquaintance of your seminary days?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Yes, Eminence, indeed, and of before them too. For this is our Lord
+and Saviour Jesus Christ, who died for us, yet lives again, to whose
+service I have dedicated my life, and your Eminence your life also.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'My son, let not your tongue betray you into speaking folly. For
+shame, my son, for shame!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But does not your Eminence know this is the Lord? Can you look upon
+His face and not see that it is He, or enter into His presence and
+not know that He is here?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Put a bridle upon that insolent tongue of yours. Come from that
+dangerous fellow.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Fellow? Eminence, it is the Lord! It is the Lord!' He turned to the
+Stranger. 'Lord Jesus, open the eyes of his Eminence, that he may see
+You, and his heart, that he may know that You are here!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Did I not say that no miracle shall bring a man to the knowledge of
+Me? If of himself he knows Me not, he will not know Me though I raise
+him out of hell to heaven.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young priest turned again to the Cardinal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'But, Eminence, it is so strange! so wonderful! Your vocation is for
+Christ; you point always to His cross; you keep your eyes upon His
+face; and yet--and yet you do not know Him now that He is here! Oh,
+it is past believing! and you, sir, you are also a religious. Surely
+you know this is the Lord?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was to the Archbishop, who began to stammer:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I--I know, my dear young friend, that you--you are saying some
+very extraordinary things--things which you--you ought to carefully
+consider before you--you utter them. Especially when I consider
+your--your almost tender years.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Extraordinary things! It is the Lord! it is the Lord! How shall you
+wonder at those who denied Him at the first if you, who preach Him,
+deny Him now? Oh, Eminence! oh, sir! look and see. It is the Lord!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Silence, sir! Another word of the sort and you are excommunicated.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'For knowing it is the Lord?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'For one thing, sir--for not knowing that on such matters Holy Church
+pronounces. Did they teach you so badly at Louvain that you have
+still to learn that in the presence of authority it is the business
+of a little seminary priest to preserve a reverent silence? It is not
+for you to oppose your variations of the creed upon your spiritual
+superiors, but to receive, with a discreet meekness, and in silence,
+your articles of faith from them.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If the Lord proclaims Himself, are His children to refuse Him
+recognition until the Church commands?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You had better return to your seminary, my son--and shall--to
+receive instruction in the rudiments of the Catholic faith.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If for any cause the Church withholds its command, is the Lord to
+depart unrecognised?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Say nothing further, sir, till you have been with your confessor. I
+command you to be silent until then.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is, then, the Church against the Lord? It cannot be--it cannot be!'
+The young priest turned to the Stranger with on his face surprise,
+fear, wonder. 'Lord, of those that are here are You known to me
+alone?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ada came forward with her sisters.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We also know the Lord.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is it not written that many are called, but few chosen? As it was,
+is now, and ever will be. It is well that you know Me, and these that
+are the daughters of one who knows Me as I would be known; and there
+are those that know Me nearly.' With that He looked at Mr. Kinloch.
+'Also here and there among the multitudes whom God has fashioned in
+His own image am I known, and in the hidden places of the world.
+Where quiet is, there am I often. Men that strive with their fellows
+in the midst of the tumult for the seats of the mighty call much upon
+My Name, but have Me little in their hearts; there is not room. Those
+that make but little noise, but are content with the lower seats,
+waiting upon My Father's will, they have Me much in their hearts, for
+there is room. Wherefore I beseech you to continue a little priest in
+a seminary, great in the knowledge of My Father, rather than a pillar
+of the Church, holding up heaven on your hands: for he that seeks to
+bear up heaven is of a surety cast down into hell. Would, then, that
+all men might be little men, since in My Father's presence they might
+have a better chance of standing high.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Cardinal, holding himself very straight, went closer to the young
+priest. His voice was stern.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Father Nevill, your parents were my friends; because of that I have
+attached you to my person; because, also, of that I am unwilling to
+see you put yourself outside the pale of Holy Church as becomes a
+fool rather than a man of sense. What hallucination blinds you I
+cannot say. Your condition is probably one which calls for a medical
+diagnosis rather than for mine. How you can be the even momentary
+victim of so poor an impostor is beyond my understanding. But it ill
+becomes such as I am to seek for explanations from such as you. Your
+part is to obey, and only to obey. Therefore I bid you instantly to
+leave this--fellow; bow your head, and seek with shame absolution for
+your grievous sin. Do this at once, or it will be too late.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the young priest was about to reply, the Stranger, going to the
+Cardinal, looking him in the face, asked: 'Am I an impostor?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Cardinal did his best to meet His look, and return Him glance for
+glance. Presently his eyes faltered; he looked down. His lips
+twitched as if to speak. His gaze returned to the Stranger's
+countenance. But only for a moment. Suddenly he put up his hands
+before his face as if to shield it from the impact of the pain and
+sorrow which were in His eyes. He muttered:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What have I to do with you?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nothing; verily, and alas!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Why have you come to judge me before my time?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your time comes soon.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Cardinal, dropping his hands, straightened himself again, as if
+endeavouring to get another grip upon his courage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I lean on Holy Church. She will sustain me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Against Me?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Cardinal staggered against the wall, trembling so that he could
+hardly stand. The Archbishop cried, also trembling:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What ails your Eminence? Cardinal, what is wrong?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His Eminence replied, as if he all at once were short of breath:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The rock--on which--the Church is founded--slips beneath my feet!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Archbishop surveyed him with frightened eyes.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">AND THE CHILD</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The noise in the street had continued without ceasing. It grew
+louder. A sound arose as of many voices shrieking. While it still
+filled the air the lame man and the charcoal-burner descended from an
+upper room. They spoke of the tumult.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The people are fighting with the police as if they have gone mad.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'They seek Me,' said the Stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lame man looked at him anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Even Me. Fear not. All will be well.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Who are these persons?' inquired the Archbishop.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'They are of those that know Me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Ay,' said the charcoal-burner, 'I know You--know You very well, I
+do. So did my old woman; she knowed You, too. I be that glad to have
+seen You. It's done me real good, that it have.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You have been with me so long; then this little while, and soon for
+ever.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Ay, very soon.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Father, these are of those that know Thy Son.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He touched with His hand the six persons that were about Him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Archbishop plucked the Cardinal by the sleeve.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I--I really think we'd better go. I--I'm not feeling very well.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There came a succession of crashes. The Cardinal stood up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What's that? It's stones against the windows. Unless I err, they
+have shivered every pane.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Someone knocked loudly at the door. The Cardinal moved as if to open.
+The Archbishop sought to restrain him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'What are you doing? It isn't safe to open. The people may come in.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Cardinal smiled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Let them. The sooner the thing is done the better. To you and me
+what does it matter what comes?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On the doorstep stood that Secretary of State who had given the
+dinner at which the Archbishop had been present. Behind him was the
+yelling mob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Your Eminence! This is an unexpected pleasure. The Archbishop, too!
+How delightful! The people seem in a curious frame of mind; our
+friend Braidwood is justified--already. It's a wonder I'm here alive.
+I am told that several persons have been killed in the crowd--
+terrible! terrible! My own opinion is that we're threatened with the
+most serious riot which London has known in my time. Ah, dear sir!'
+He bowed to the Stranger. 'I need not ask if you are he to whom I
+desire to tender my sincerest salutations. There is that about you
+which tells me that I stand in the presence of no mean person.
+Unfortunately, I am so constituted as to be incapable of those more
+ardent feelings which are to the enthusiast his indispensable
+equipment. Therefore I am not of that material out of which they
+fashion devotees. Yet, since I cannot doubt that my trifling personal
+peculiarities are known to him who, as I am informed, knows all, I
+venture to trust that they will be regarded as extenuating
+circumstances should I ever stand in instant need of palliation.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger was still.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The stones still rattled against the windows, smashed against the
+door. Again there came a knocking. The tumult had grown so great, the
+cries so threatening, that those within were trembling, hesitating
+what to do. When the Stranger moved towards the door, the Secretary
+of State prevented Him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Sir, I beg of you! I fear it is you they wish to see, with what
+purpose you may imagine from the noise which they are making. Permit
+me to answer the knocking. At the present moment I am of less public
+interest than you.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He opened. There was an excited sergeant of police.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The person who's in here must get away by the back somewhere at
+once; those are my orders. The people have found out that they can
+get to this house from the street behind; they're starting off to do
+it. We don't want murder done, and there will be murder if he doesn't
+take himself off pretty quick.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Is it so bad as that?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'So bad as that? Look at them yourself. I never saw them in such a
+state. They're stark, staring mad. All the streets about are full of
+them; they're all the same. That man Walters and his friends have
+been working a lot of them into a frenzy; murder is what they mean.
+Then there's over a hundred been killed in front here, so I'm told--
+poor wretches who came to be healed. The crowd will tear him to
+pieces if they get him. He must get away somehow over the walls at
+the back.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Over the walls at the back?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'He can't get away by the front. We couldn't save him--nobody could.
+I tell you they'll tear him to pieces.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As the sergeant spoke the Stranger came and stood at the door by the
+Secretary of State. A policeman rushed up the steps bearing something
+in his arms. He addressed the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'This child's dead. Sir William Braidwood says most of the bones in
+its body are broken; it's crushed nearly to a jelly. It doesn't seem
+to have had any friends or anything. Could you see it taken into the
+house?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sergeant received the child. The Stranger said to him: 'Give it
+to Me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You? Why you? Let it be taken into the house and put decent.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Give Me the child.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He took the child and pressed it to His bosom, and the child, opening
+its eyes, looked up at Him. He kissed it on the brow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'You have been asleep,' He said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The child sat up in His arms and laughed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Archbishop whispered to the Cardinal:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The child lives!'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Stranger cried to those that were within the house:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'I return whence I came. Come there to Me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And a great hush fell on all the people, so that on a sudden they
+were still. And they fell back, so that a lane was formed in their
+midst, along which He went, with the child, laughing, in His arms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was as if the people had been carved out of stone. They moved
+neither limb nor feature, nor seemed to breathe, but stayed in the
+uncouth attitudes in which they had been flung by passion, with their
+faces as rage had distorted them, their mouths open as they had
+vomited blasphemies, their eyes glaring, their fists clenched.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Through the stricken people in the silent streets the Stranger went,
+the child laughing in His arms--on and on, on and on. Whither He
+went, no man knew. Nor has He been seen of any since, nor the child
+either.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And when He had gone, a great sigh went over all the people. Behold,
+they wept!</p>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Second Coming, by Richard Marsh
+
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+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Second Coming, by Richard Marsh
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Second Coming
+
+Author: Richard Marsh
+
+Release Date: November 28, 2011 [EBook #38156]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SECOND COMING ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+   1. Page scan source:
+      http://books.google.com/books?id=RHYXAAAAYAAJ
+
+
+
+
+
+
+          Canvasback library of Popular Fiction. Volume IX
+
+
+
+
+
+                           A Second Coming
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                          _A SECOND COMING_
+
+
+
+                                 _BY_
+                            RICHARD MARSH
+
+
+
+
+                    _JOHN LANE: THE BODLEY HEAD_
+                      _NEW YORK & LONDON MCMIV_
+
+
+
+
+
+                           Copyright, 1900
+                             By John Lane
+
+
+
+
+
+
+'If,' asked the Man in the Street, 'Christ were to come again to
+London, in this present year of grace, how would He be received, and
+what would happen?'
+
+'I will try to show you,' replied the Scribe.
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+These following pages represent the Scribe's attempt to achieve the
+impossible.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+
+                     I. THE TALES WHICH WERE TOLD
+
+      CHAPTER
+
+          I. THE INTERRUPTED DINNER.
+
+         II. THE WOMAN AND THE COATS.
+
+        III. THE WORDS OF THE PREACHER.
+
+         IV. THE CHILDREN'S MOTHER.
+
+          V. THE OPERATION.
+
+         VI. THE BLACKLEG.
+
+        VII. IN PICCADILLY.
+
+       VIII. THE ONLY ONE THAT WAS LEFT.
+
+         IX. THE FIRST DISCIPLE.
+
+          X. THE DEPUTATION.
+
+         XI. THE SECOND DISCIPLE.
+
+
+
+                      II. THE TUMULT WHICH AROSE
+
+        XII. THE CHARCOAL-BURNER.
+
+       XIII. A TRIUMPHAL ENTRY.
+
+        XIV. THE WORDS OF THE WISE.
+
+         XV. THE SUPPLICANT.
+
+        XVI. IN THE MORNING.
+
+       XVII. THE MIRACLE OF HEALING.
+
+      XVIII. THE YOUNG MAN.
+
+
+
+                    III. THE PASSION OF THE PEOPLE
+
+        XIX. THE HUNT AND THE HOME.
+
+         XX. THEY THAT WOULD ASK WITH A THREAT.
+
+        XXI. THE ASKING.
+
+       XXII. A SEMINARY PRIEST.
+
+      XXIII. AND THE CHILD.
+
+
+
+
+
+                                  I
+
+                      The Tales which were Told
+
+
+
+
+                           A Second Coming
+
+                              CHAPTER I
+
+                        THE INTERRUPTED DINNER
+
+
+He stood at the corner of the table with his hat and overcoat on,
+just as he had rushed into the room.
+
+'Christ has come again!'
+
+The servants were serving the entrees. Their breeding failed them.
+They stopped to stare at Chisholm. The guests stared too, those at
+the end leaning over the board to see him better. He looked like a
+man newly startled out of dreaming, blinking at the lights and
+glittering table array. His hat was a little on one side of his head.
+He was hot and short of breath, as if he had been running. They
+regarded him as a little bewildered, while he, on his part, looked
+back at them as if they were the creatures of a dream.
+
+'Christ has come again!'
+
+He repeated the words in a curious, tremulous, sobbing voice, which
+was wholly unlike his own.
+
+Conversation had languished. Just before his entrance there had been
+one of those prolonged pauses which, to an ambitious hostess, are as
+a sound of doom. The dinner bade fair to be a failure. If people will
+not talk, to offer them to eat is vain. Criticism takes the place of
+appetite. Amplett looked, for him, bad-tempered. He was leaning back
+in his chair, smiling wryly at the wineglass which he was twiddling
+between his fingers. His wife, on the contrary, sat very upright--
+with her an ominous sign. She looked straight in front of her, with a
+tender softness in her glance which only to those who did not know
+her suggested paradise. Over the whole table there was an air of
+vague depression, an irresistible tendency to be bored.
+
+Chisholm's unceremonious entry created a diversion. It filliped the
+atmosphere. Amplett's bad temper vanished on the instant.
+
+'Hollo, Hugh! thought you weren't coming. Sit down, man; in your coat
+and hat if you like, only do sit down!'
+
+Chisholm eyed him as if not quite certain that it was he who was
+being spoken to, or who the speaker was. There was that about his
+bearing which seemed to have a singular effect upon his host.
+Amplett, leaning farther over the table, called to him in short,
+sharp tones:
+
+'Why do you stand and look like that? What's the matter?'
+
+'Christ has come again!'
+
+As he repeated the words for the third time, there was in his voice a
+note of exultation which was in odd dissonance with what was
+generally believed to be his character. The self-possession for which
+he was renowned seemed to have wholly deserted him. Something seemed
+to have shaken his nature to its depths; he who was used to declare
+that life could offer nothing which was of interest to him.
+
+People glanced at each other, and at the strange-looking man at the
+end of the table. Was he mad or drunk? As if in answer to their
+glances he stretched out his hands a little in front of him, saying:
+
+'It is true! It is true! Christ has come again! I have come from His
+presence here to you!'
+
+Mrs. Amplett's voice rang out sharply:
+
+'Hugh, what is the matter with you? Are you insane?'
+
+'I was insane. Now I am wise. I know, for I have seen. I have been
+among the first to see.'
+
+There was something in his manner which affected them strangely. A
+wildness, an exultation, an intensity! If it had not been so entirely
+out of keeping with the man's everyday disposition it might not have
+seemed so curious. But those who knew him best were moved most. They
+were aware that his nerves were not easily affected; that something
+extraordinary must have occurred to have produced this bearing.
+Clement Fordham rose from his chair and went to him.
+
+'Come, Hugh, tell me what's wrong outside.'
+
+He made as if to slip his arm through Chisholm's, who would have none
+of it. He held Fordham off with hand extended.
+
+'Thank you, Fordham, but for the present I'll stay here. I am not
+mad, nor have I been drinking. I'm as sober and as sane as you.'
+
+A voice came down the table, Bertie Vaughan's. In it there was a ring
+of laughter:
+
+'Tell us, Chisholm, what you've seen.'
+
+'I will tell you.'
+
+Chisholm removed his hat, as if suddenly remembering that he had it
+on. He rested the brim against the edge of the table, looking down
+the two rows of faces towards Amplett at the end. Mrs. Amplett
+interposed:
+
+'Hadn't you better sit down, Hugh, and have something to eat? The
+entrees are getting cold. Or you might tell your story after we've
+finished dinner. Hunger magnifies; wonders grow less when one has
+dined.'
+
+There was a chorus of dissentient voices.
+
+'No, no, Mrs. Amplett. Let him tell his story now.'
+
+'I will tell it to you now.'
+
+The hostess gave way. Chisholm told his tale. He riveted his
+auditors' attention. The servants listened openly.
+
+'I walked here. As you know, the night is fine, and I thought the
+stroll would do me good. As I was passing through Bryanston Square a
+man came round the corner on a bicycle. The road has recently been
+watered, and is still wet and greasy. His tyre must have skidded, or
+something, because he entirely lost control of his machine, and went
+dashing into the hydrant which stands by the kerb. He was moving
+pretty fast, and as it came into contact with the hydrant his machine
+was splintered, and he was pitched over the handle-bar heavily on to
+his head. He was some fifteen or twenty yards from where I was. I
+went to him as rapidly as I could, but by the time I reached him he
+was already dead.'
+
+'Dead!'
+
+The word came in a sort of chorus from half a dozen throats.
+
+'Dead,' repeated Chisholm.
+
+'Are you sure that he was dead?'
+
+The question came from Amplett.
+
+'Certain. He was a very unpleasant sight. He must have fallen with
+more violence even than I had supposed. His skull was shattered. He
+must have come down on it on the hard road, and then twisted over on
+to his back. He was a big, heavy man, and the wrench which he had
+given himself in rolling over had broken his neck. I was so
+astonished to find him dead, and at the spectacle which he presented,
+that for a second or two I was at a loss as to what steps I ought to
+take. No other person was in the square, and, so far as I could
+judge, the accident had not been witnessed from either of the
+windows. While I hesitated, on a sudden I was conscious that someone
+was at my side.'
+
+He stopped as if to take breath. There came a rain of questions.
+
+'Someone? What do you mean by someone?'
+
+'I will try and tell you exactly what I saw. It is not easy. I am yet
+too near--fresh from the Presence.'
+
+He clasped his hands a little more tightly on the brim of his hat,
+then closed his eyes for a second or two, opening them to look
+straight down the table, as if endeavouring to bring well within the
+focus of his vision something which was there.
+
+'I was looking down at the dead man as he lay there in an ugly heap,
+conscious that I was due for dinner, and wondering what steps I ought
+to take. I felt no interest in him--none whatever; neither his living
+nor his dying was anything to me. My chief feeling was one of
+annoyance that he should have chosen that moment to fall dead right
+in my path; it was an unwarrantable intrusion of his affairs into
+mine. As I stood, I knew that someone was on his other side, looking
+down at him with me. And I was afraid--yes, I was afraid.'
+
+The speaker had turned pale--the pallor of fear had come upon the
+cheeks of the man whose imperturbable courage had been proved a
+hundred times. His voice sank lower.
+
+'For some moments I continued with eyes cast down; I did not dare to
+look up. At last, when my pulse grew a little calmer, I ventured to
+raise my eyes. On the other side of the dead bicyclist was one who
+was in the figure of a man. I knew that it was Christ.'
+
+He spoke with an accent of intense conviction, the like of which his
+hearers had never heard from the lips of anyone before. It was as
+though Chisholm spoke with the faith which can move mountains. Those
+who listened were perforce dumb.
+
+'His glance met mine. I knew myself to be the thing I was. I was
+ashamed. He pointed to the body lying in the roadway, saying: "Your
+brother sleeps?" I could not answer. Seeing that I was silent, He
+spoke again: "Are you not of one spirit and of one flesh? I come to
+wake your brother out of slumber." He inclined His hand towards the
+dead man, saying: "Arise, you who sleep." Immediately he that was
+dead stood up. He seemed bewildered, and exclaimed as in a fit of
+passion: "That's a nice spill. Curse the infernal slippery road!"
+Then he turned and saw Who was standing at his side. As he did so, he
+burst into a storm of tears, crying like a child; and when he cried,
+He that had been there was not. The bicyclist and I were alone
+together.'
+
+A pause followed Chisholm's words.
+
+'And then what happened?'
+
+The query came from Mrs. Amplett.
+
+'Nothing happened. I hurried off as fast as I could, for I was still
+afraid, and left the bicyclist sobbing in the roadway.'
+
+There was another interval of silence, until Gregory Hawkes, putting
+his eyeglass in its place, fixedly regarded Chisholm.
+
+'Are we to accept this as a sober narrative of actual fact,
+or--where's the joke?'
+
+'I have told you the truth. Christ has come again!'
+
+'Christ in Bryanston Square!'
+
+Mr. Hawkes's tone was satirical.
+
+'Yes, Christ in Bryanston Square. Why not in Bryanston Square if on
+the hill of Calvary? Is not this His own city?'
+
+'His own city!'
+
+Again there was the satiric touch.
+
+One of the servants, dropping a dish, began to excuse himself.
+
+'Pardon me, sir, but I'm a Seventh-Day Christian, and I've been
+looking for the Second Coming these three years now, and more.
+Hearing from Mr. Chisholm that it's come at last has made me feel a
+little nervous.'
+
+Mrs. Amplett turned to the butler.
+
+'Goss, let the servants leave the room.'
+
+They went, as if they bore their tails between their legs, some with
+the entree dishes still in their hands.
+
+'I wish,' murmured Bertie Vaughan,' that this little incident could
+have been conveniently postponed till after we had dined.'
+
+Arthur Warton, of St. Ethelburga's, showed signs of disapprobation.
+
+'I believe that I am as broad-minded a priest as you will easily
+find, but there are seasons at which certain topics should not be
+touched upon. Without wishing in any way to thrust forward my
+clerical office, I would point out to Mr. Chisholm that this
+assuredly is one.'
+
+'Is there then a season at which Christ should not come again?'
+
+'Mr. Chisholm!'
+
+'Or in which He should not restore the dead to life?'
+
+'I should not wish to disturb the harmony of the gathering,
+Mr. Amplett, but I am afraid the--eh--circumstances are
+not--eh--fortuitous. I cannot sit here and allow my sacred office to
+be mocked.'
+
+'Mocked! Is it to mock your sacred office to spread abroad the news
+that He has come again? I am fresh from His presence, and tell you
+so--you that claim to be His priest.'
+
+Fordham, who had been standing by him all the time, came a little
+closer.
+
+'Come, Hugh, let's get out of this, you and I, and talk over things
+quietly together.'
+
+Again Chisholm kept him from him with his outstretched hand.
+
+'In your tone, Fordham, more even than in your words, there
+is suggestion. Of what? that I am mad? You have known me
+all my life. Have I struck you as being of the stuff which
+makes for madness? As a victim of hysteria? As a subject of
+hallucinations? As a liar? I am as sane as you, as clear-headed, as
+matter-of-fact, as truthful. I tell you, in very truth and very deed,
+that to-night I have seen Christ hard by here in the square.'
+
+'My dear fellow, these people have come here to dine.'
+
+'Is, then, dinner more than Christ?'
+
+Smiling his easy, tolerant smile, Fordham touched Chisholm lightly
+with his fingers on the arm.
+
+'My very dear old chap, this sort of thing is so awfully unlike you,
+don't you know?'
+
+'You, also, will be changed when you have seen Christ. Fordham, I
+have seen Christ!'
+
+The intensity of his utterance seemed to strike his hearers a blow.
+The women shivered, turning pale--even those who were painted. Mr.
+Warton leaned across the table towards Mrs. Amplett.
+
+'I really think that you ladies had better retire. Our friend seems
+to be in a curious mood.'
+
+The hostess nodded. She rose from her seat, looking very queerly at
+Mr. Chisholm, for whom her penchant is well known. The other women
+followed her example. The rustling concourse fluttered from the room,
+the Incumbent of St. Ethelburga holding the door open to let them
+pass, and himself bringing up the rear. The laymen were left alone
+together, Chisholm and Fordham standing at the head of the table
+with, on their faces, such very different expressions.
+
+The host seemed snappish.
+
+'You see what you've done? I offer you my congratulations, Mr.
+Chisholm. I don't know if you call the sort of thing with which you
+have been favouring us good form.'
+
+'Is good form more than Christ?'
+
+Amplett made an impatient sound with his lips. He stood up.
+
+'Upon my word of honour, Mr. Chisholm, you must be either drunk or
+mad. I trust, for your own sake, that you are merely mad. Come,
+gentlemen, let's join the ladies.'
+
+The men quitted the room in a body. Only Clement Fordham stayed with
+his friend. Chisholm watched them as they went. Then, when the last
+had gone and the door was closed, he turned to his companion.
+
+'Yet it is the truth that this night I have seen Christ!'
+
+The other laughed.
+
+'Then, in that case, let's hope that you won't see much more of Him--
+no impiety intended, I assure you. Now let you and me take our two
+selves away.'
+
+He slipped his arm through his friend's. As they were about to move,
+the door opened and a servant entered. It was the man who had dropped
+the dish. He approached Chisholm with stuttering tongue.
+
+'Pardon me, sir, if I seem to take a liberty, but might I ask if the
+Second Coming has really come at last? As a Seventh-Day Christian
+it's a subject in which I take an interest, and the fact is that
+there's a difference of opinion between my wife and me as to whether
+it's to be this year or next.'
+
+The man bore ignorance on his countenance written large, and worse.
+Hugh Chisholm turned from him with repugnance.
+
+'He's your brother,' whispered Fordham in his ear, as they moved
+towards the door.
+
+The expression of Hugh Chisholm's face was stern.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II
+
+                       THE WOMAN AND THE COATS
+
+
+Mr. Davis looked about him with bloodshot eyes. His battered bowler
+was perched rakishly on the back of his head, and his hands were
+thrust deep into his trousers pockets. He did not seem to find the
+aspect of the room enlivening. His wife, standing at a small oblong
+deal table, was making a parcel of two black coats to which she had
+just been giving the finishing stitches. The man, the woman, the
+table, and the coats, practically represented the entire contents of
+the apartment.
+
+The fact appeared to cause Mr. Davis no slight dissatisfaction. His
+bearing, his looks, his voice, all betrayed it.
+
+'I want some money,' he observed.
+
+'Then you'll have to want,' returned his wife.
+
+'Ain't you got none?'
+
+'No, nor shan't have, not till I've took these two coats in.'
+
+'Then what'll it be?'
+
+'You know very well what it'll be--three-and-six--one-and-nine
+apiece--if there ain't no fines.'
+
+'And this is what they call the land of liberty, the 'ome of the
+free, where people slave and slave--for one-and-nine.'
+
+Mr. Davis seemed conscious that the conclusion of his sentence was
+slightly impotent, and spat on the floor as if to signify his regret.
+
+''Tain't much slaving you do, anyhow.'
+
+'No, nor it ain't much I'm likely to do; I'm no servile wretch; I'm
+free-born.'
+
+'Prefers to make your living off me, you do.'
+
+'Well, and why not? Ain't woman the inferior animal? Didn't Nature
+mean it to be her pride to minister to man? Ain't it only the false
+veneer of a rotten civilization what's upset all that? If I gives my
+talents for the good of the species, as I do do, as is well known I
+do do, ain't it only right that you should give me something in
+return, if it's only a crust and water? Ain't that law and justice--
+natural law, mind you, and natural justice?'
+
+'I don't know nothing about law, natural or otherwise, but I do know
+it ain't justice.'
+
+Mr. Davis looked at his wife, more in sorrow than in anger. He was
+silent for some seconds, as if meditating on the peculiar baseness of
+human nature. When he spoke there was a whine in his raucous voice,
+which was, perhaps, meant to denote his consciousness of how much he
+stood in need of sympathy.
+
+'I'm sorry, Matilda, to hear you talk to me like that, because it
+forces me to do something what I shouldn't otherwise have done. Give
+me them coats.'
+
+She had just finished packing up the coats in the linen wrapper, and
+was pinning up one end. Snatching up the parcel, she clasped it to
+her bosom as if it had been some precious thing.
+
+'No, Tommy, not the coats!'
+
+'Matilda, once more I ask you to give me them coats.'
+
+'What do you want them for?'
+
+'Once more, Matilda, I ask you to give me them coats.'
+
+'No, Tommy, that I won't--never! not if you was to kill me! You know
+what happened the last time, and all I had to go through; and you
+promised you'd never do it again, and you shan't, not while I can
+help it--no, that you shan't!'
+
+Clasping the parcel tightly to her, she drew back towards a corner of
+the room, like some wild creature standing at bay. Mr. Davis,
+advancing towards the table, leaned on it, addressing her as if he
+desired to impress her with the fact that he was endeavouring not to
+allow his feelings to get the better of his judgment.
+
+'Listen to me, Matilda. I'm soft and tender, as well you know, and
+should therefore regret having to start knocking you about; but want
+is want, and I want 'arf a sovereign this day, and have it I must.'
+
+'What do you want it for?'
+
+Mr. Davis brought his clenched fist sharply down upon the
+table--possibly by way of a hint.
+
+'Never you mind what I want it for. I do want it, and that's enough
+for you. You trouble yourself with your own affairs, and don't poke
+your nose into mine, my girl; you'll find it safest.'
+
+'I'll try to get it for you, Tommy.'
+
+Mr. Davis was scornful.
+
+'Oh, you will, will you! How are you going to set about getting 'arf
+a sovereign? Perhaps you'll be so good as to let me know. Because if
+you can lay hands on 'arf a sovereign whenever one's wanted, it's a
+trick worth knowing. You're such a clever one at getting 'old of the
+pieces, you are, and always have been.'
+
+The man's irony seemed to cause the woman to wince. She drew a little
+farther back towards her corner.
+
+'I don't rightly know how I shall get hold of it, not just now, I
+don't; but I daresay I shall manage somehow.'
+
+'Oh, you do, do you? Shall I tell you how you'll manage? You listen
+to me. You'll go to them there slave-drivers with them two coats, and
+they'll keep you waiting for two mortal hours or more. Then they'll
+dock sixpence for fines--you're always getting fined; you 'ardly ever
+take anything in without you're fined; you're a slovenly workwoman,
+that's what you are, my lass, and that's the truth!--you'll come away
+with three bob, and spend 'arf a crown on rent, or some such silly
+nonsense; and then when it comes to me, you'll start snivelling, and
+act the crybaby, and I shall have to treat you to a kicking, and find
+myself further off my 'arf sovereign than ever I was. I don't want no
+more of your nonsense. Give me them two coats!'
+
+'You'll pawn 'em if I do.'
+
+'Of course I'll pawn 'em. What do you suppose I'm going to do with
+them--eat 'em, or give them to the Queen?'
+
+'You'll get me into trouble again! They're due in to-day. You know
+what happened last time. If they lock me up again, I'll be sent
+away.'
+
+'Then be sent away, and be 'anged to you for a nasty, mean,
+snivelling cat! Why don't you earn enough to keep your 'usband like a
+gentleman? If you don't, it's your fault, isn't it? Give me them two
+coats!'
+
+'No, Tommy, I won't!'
+
+He went closer to her.
+
+'For the last time; will you give me them two coats?'
+
+'No!'
+
+She hugged the parcel closer, and she closed her eyes, so that she
+should not see him strike her. He hit her once, twice, thrice,
+choosing his mark with care and discretion. Under the first two blows
+she reeled; the last sent her in a heap to the floor. When she was
+down he kicked her in a business-like, methodical fashion, then
+picked up the parcel which had fallen from her grasp.
+
+'You've brought it on yourself, as you very well know. It's the kind
+of thing I don't care to have to do. I'm not like some, what's always
+spoiling to knock their wives about; but when I do have to do it,
+there's no one does it more thorough, I will say that.'
+
+He left her lying in a heap on the boards. On his way to the
+pawnbroker's he encountered a friend, Joe Cooke. Mr. Cooke stopped
+and hailed him.
+
+'What yer, Tommy! Are you coming along with us to-night on that there
+little razzle?'
+
+'Of course I am. Didn't I say I was? And when I say I'm coming, don't
+I always come?'
+
+'All right, old coxybird! Keep your 'air on! No one said you didn't.
+Got the rhino?'
+
+'I have. Leastways, I soon shall have, when I've turned this little
+lot into coin of the realm.'
+
+He pointed to the bundle which he bore beneath his arm. Mr. Cooke
+grinned.
+
+'What yer got there?'
+
+'I've got a couple of coats what my wife's been wearing out her eyes
+on for a set of slave-driving sweaters. Three-and-six they was to pay
+her for them. I rather reckon that I'll get more than three-and-six
+for them, unless I'm wrong. And when I have melted 'em, Joe, I don't
+mind if I do you a wet.'
+
+Joe did not mind, either. The two fell in side by side. Mr. Cooke
+drew his hand across his mouth.
+
+'Ever since my old woman died I've felt I ought to have
+another--a good one, mind you. There's nothing like having someone to
+whom you can turn for a bob or so.'
+
+'It's more than a bob or so I get out of my old woman, you may take
+my word. If she don't keep me like a gentleman, she hears of it.'
+
+Mr. Cooke regarded his friend with genuine admiration.
+
+'Ah! but we're not all so fly as you, Tommy, nor yet so lucky.'
+
+'Perhaps not--not, mind you, that that's owing to any fault of yours.
+It's as we're made.'
+
+Mr. Davis, with the bundle under his arm, bore himself with an air of
+modest pride, as one who appreciated his natural advantages.
+
+They reached the pawnbroker's. The entrance to the pledge department
+was in a little alley leading off the main street. As Mr. Davis stood
+at the mouth of this alley to say a parting word to his friend as a
+prelude to the important business of the pledging, someone touched
+him on the arm.
+
+A voice accosted him.
+
+'What is it that you would do?'
+
+Mr. Davis spun round like a teetotum. He stared at the Stranger.
+
+'Hollo, matey! Who are you?'
+
+'I am He that you know not of.'
+
+Mr. Davis drew a little back, as if a trifle disconcerted. His voice
+was huskier than even it was wont to be.
+
+'What's the little game?'
+
+'I bid you tell me what is this thing that you would do?'
+
+Mr. Davis seemed to find in the words, which were quietly uttered, a
+compelling influence which made him curiously frank.
+
+'I am going to pawn these here two coats which my wife's been
+making.'
+
+'Is it well?'
+
+Mr. Davis slunk farther from the Stranger. 'What's it got to do with
+you?'
+
+'Is it well?'
+
+There was a sorrowful intonation in the repetition of the inquiry,
+blended with a singularly penetrant sternness. Mr. Davis cowered as
+if he had been struck a blow. He turned to his friend.
+
+'Say, Joe, who is this bloke?'
+
+The Stranger spoke to Mr. Cooke.
+
+'Look on Me, and you shall know.'
+
+Mr. Cooke looked--and knew. He began to tremble as if he would have
+fallen to the ground. Mr. Davis, noting his friend's condition,
+became uneasy.
+
+'Say, Joe, what's the matter with you? What's he done to you, Joe?'
+
+Mr. Cooke was silent. The Stranger answered:
+
+'Would that that which has been done to him could be done to you, and
+to all this city! But you are of those that cannot know, for in them
+is no knowledge. Yet return to your wife, and make your peace with
+her, lest worse befall.'
+
+Mr. Davis began to slink out of the alley, with furtive air and face
+carefully averted from the Stranger. As he reached the pavement, a
+big man, with a scarlet handkerchief twisted round his neck, caught
+him by the shoulder. The big man's speech was flavoured with
+adjectives.
+
+'Why, Tommy! what's up with you? You look as if you was just
+a-going to see Jack Ketch.'
+
+Then came the flood of adjectives to give the sentence balance. Mr.
+Davis tried to wriggle from his questioner's too strenuous grip.
+
+'Let me go, Pug--let me go!'
+
+'What for? What's wrong? Who's been doing something to yer?'
+
+Mr. Davis made a movement of his head towards the Stranger. He spoke
+in a husky whisper.
+
+'That bloke--over there.'
+
+The big man dragged the unwilling Mr. Davis forward.
+
+'What's my friend been doing to you, and what have you been doing to
+him?'
+
+There was the usual adjectival torrent. The Stranger replied to the
+inquiry with another.
+
+'Why are you so unclean of mouth? Is it because you are unclean of
+heart, or because you do not know what the things are which you
+utter?'
+
+The retorted question seemed to take the big man aback. His manner
+became still more blusterous:
+
+'I don't want none of your lip, and I won't have any, and you can
+take that from me! I don't know what kind of a Gospel-pitcher you
+are; but if you think because preaching's your lay that you can come
+it over me, I'll just show you can't by knocking the head right off
+yer.'
+
+'What big things the little say!'
+
+The retort seemed to goad Mr. Davis's friend to a state of
+considerable excitement.
+
+'Little, am I? I'll show you! I'll learn you! I'll give you a lesson
+free gratis, and for nothing now, right straight off.' He began to
+tear off his cap and coat. 'Here, some of you chaps, catch hold while
+I'm a-showing him!' As he turned up his shirtsleeves, he addressed
+the crowd which had gathered: 'These blokes come to us, and because
+we're poor they think they can treat us as if we was dirt, and come
+the pa and ma game over us as if we was a lot of kids. I've had
+enough of it--in fact, I've had too much. For the future I mean to
+set about every one of them as tries to come it over me. Now, then,
+my bloke, put up your dooks or eat your words. Don't think you're
+going to get out of it by standing still, because if you don't beg
+pardon for what you said to me just now I'll----'
+
+The man, who was by profession a pugilist, advanced towards the
+Stranger in professional style. The Stranger raised His right hand.
+
+'Stay! and let your arm be withered. Better lose your arm than all
+that you have.'
+
+Before the eyes of those who were standing by the man's arm began to
+dwindle till there was nothing protruding from the shirtsleeve which
+he had rolled up to his shoulder but a withered stump. The man stood
+as if rooted to the ground, the expression of his countenance so
+changed as to amount to complete transfiguration. The crowd was still
+until a voice inquired of the Stranger:
+
+'Who are you?'
+
+The Stranger pointed to the man whose arm was withered.
+
+'Can you not see? The world still looks for a sign.'
+
+There were murmurs among the people.
+
+'He's a conjurer!'
+
+'The bloke's a mesmerist, that's what he is!'
+
+'He's one of those hanky-panky coves!'
+
+'I am none of these things. I come from a city not built of hands to
+this city of man's glory and his shame to bring to you a message--no
+new thing, but that old one which the world has forgotten.'
+
+'What's the message, Guv'nor?'
+
+'Those who see Me and know Me will know what is My message; those who
+know Me not, neither will they know My message.'
+
+Mr. Cooke fell on his knees on the pavement.
+
+'Oh, Guv'nor, what shall I do?'
+
+'Cease to weep; there are more than enough tears already.'
+
+'I'm only a silly fool, Guv'nor; tell me what I ought to do.'
+
+'Do well; be clean; judge no one.'
+
+A woman came hurrying through the crowd. It was Mrs. Davis. At sight
+of her husband she burst into exclamations:
+
+'Oh, Tommy, have you pawned them?'
+
+'No, Matilda, I haven't, and I'm not going to, neither.'
+
+'Thank God!'
+
+She threw her arms about her husband's neck and kissed him.
+
+'That is good hearing,' said the Stranger.
+
+The people's attention had been diverted by Mrs. Davis's appearance.
+When they turned again to look for the Stranger He was gone.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER III
+
+                      THE WORDS OF THE PREACHER
+
+
+'They say that the Jews do not look forward to the rebuilding of
+their Holy City of Jerusalem, to their return to the Promised Land.
+They say that we Christians do not look forward to the Second Coming
+of Christ. As to the indictment against the Chosen People, we will
+not pronounce: we are not Jews. But as to the charge against us
+Christians, there we are on firmer ground. We can speak, and we must.
+My answer is, It's a lie. We do look forward to His Second Coming. We
+watch and wait for it. It is the subject of our constant prayers. We
+have His promise, in words which cannot fail. The whole fabric of our
+faith is built upon our assurance of His return. If the delay seems
+long, it is because, in His sight, a thousand years are as a day. Who
+are we to time His movements, and fix the hour of His coming so that
+it may fall in with our convenience? We know that He will come, in
+His own time, in His own way. He will forgive us if we strain our
+eyes eastward, watching for the first rays of the dawn to gild the
+mountains and the plains, and herald the glory of His advent. But
+beyond that His will, not ours, be done. We know, O Lord Christ, Thou
+wilt return when it seems well in Thy sight.'
+
+The Rev. Philip Evans was a short, somewhat sturdily built man, who
+was a little too heavy for his height. His dress was, to all intents
+and purposes, that of a layman, though something about the colour and
+cut of the several garments suggested the dissenting minister of a
+certain modern type. He was a hairy man; his brown hair, beard, and
+whiskers were just beginning to be touched with gray. He wore
+spectacles, big round glasses, set in bright steel frames. He had a
+trick of snatching at them with his left hand every now and then, as
+if to twitch them straight upon his nose. He was not an orator, but
+was something of a rhetorician. He had the gift of the gab, and the
+present-day knack of treating what are supposed to be sacred subjects
+in secular fashion--of 'bringing them down,' as he himself described
+it, 'to the intelligence' of his hearers, apparently unconscious of
+the truth that what he supposed to be their standard of intelligence
+was, in fact, his own.
+
+There was about his manner, methods, gestures, voice, a species of
+nervous force, the product of restlessness rather than vitality,
+which attracted the sort of persons to whom he specially appealed,
+when they had nothing better to do, and held them, if not so
+firmly as the music-hall and theatrical performances which they
+preferentially patronised, still, with a sufficient share of
+interest. The band and the choir had something to do with the
+success which attended his labours. But, after all, these were merely
+side-shows. Indubitably the chief attraction was the man himself, and
+the air of brightness and 'go' which his personality lent to the
+proceedings. One never knew what would be the next thing he would say
+or do.
+
+That Sunday evening the great hall was thronged. It nearly always
+was. In the great thoroughfare without the people passed continually
+to and fro, a motley crowd, mostly in pursuit of mischief. All sorts
+and conditions of persons, as they neared the entrance, would come
+in, if only to rest for a few minutes, and listen by the way, and
+look on. There was a constant coming and going. Philip Evans was one
+of the sights of town, not the least of its notorieties; and those
+very individuals against whom his diatribes were principally directed
+found, upon occasion, a moderate degree of entertainment in listening
+to examples of his comminatory thunders.
+
+The subject of his evening's discourse had been announced as 'The
+Second Coming: Is it Fact or Dream?' He had chosen as his text the
+eleventh verse of the third chapter of St. John's Revelation:
+'Behold, I come quickly; hold fast that which thou hast, that no man
+take thy crown.' He had pointed out to his audience that these words
+were full of suggestion, even apart from their context; pre-eminently
+so in connection with it. They had in them, he maintained, Christ's
+own promise that He would return to the world in which He had endured
+so much disappointment and suffering, such ignominy and such shame.
+He supported his assertion by the usual cross references to Biblical
+passages, construing them to suit his arguments by the dogmatic
+methods with which custom has made us familiar.
+
+'If there is one thing sure, it is the word of Jesus Christ; if there
+is one thing Christ has promised us, it is that He will return. If we
+believe that He came once, we must believe that He will come again.
+We have no option, unless we make out Christ to be a liar. There was
+no meaning in his First Coming unless it is His intention to return.
+The work He began has to be finished. If you deny a personal Christ,
+then you are at least logical in regarding His whole story as
+allegorical, the story that He was and will be; in which case may He
+help you, and open your eyes that you may see. But if you are a
+Christian, it is because you believe in Christ, the living Christ,
+the very Christ, the Christ made man, that was and will be. Your
+faith, our faith, is not a symbol, it's a fact. It's a solid thing,
+not the distillation of a dream. We believe that Jesus Christ was
+like unto us, hungry as we are, and athirst; that He felt as we feel,
+knew our joys and sorrows, our trials and temptations. He came to us
+once, that is certain. To attempt to whittle away that fact is to
+make of our Christianity a laughing-stock, and our plight most
+lamentable. Better for us, a thousand, thousand times, that we had
+never been born! But He came--we know He came! And, knowing that, we
+know that we have His promise that He will come again, and rejoice!
+
+'Of the time and manner of His Second Coming there is none mortal
+that may certainly speak. To pretend to speak on the subject with
+special insight or knowledge would be intolerable presumption--worse,
+akin to blasphemy! Thy will, not ours, be done. We only stand and
+wait. In Thy hand, Lord God, is the issue. We know it, and give
+thanks. But while recognising our inability to probe into the
+workings of the Most High, I think we may be excused if we make
+certain reflections on the theme which to us, as Christians, is of
+such vital moment.
+
+'First, as to the time. Knowing nothing, we do know this, that it may
+be at any instant of any hour of any day. The Lord Jesus Christ may
+be speeding to us now. He may be in our midst even while I speak. Why
+not? We know that He was in a certain synagogue while service was
+taking place, without any there having had the slightest warning of
+His intended presence. What He did then can He not do now? And will
+He not? Who shall say?
+
+'For, as to the manner, we can at least venture to say this, that we
+know not, with any sort of certainty, what the manner of His coming
+will be. The dark passages of the Scripture are dark perhaps of
+intention, and, maybe, will continue obscure, until in the fulness of
+time all things are made plain. There are those who affirm that He
+will come with pomp and power, in the fulness of His power, as a
+conquering king, with legions of angels, to be the Judge of all the
+earth. To me it appears that those who say this go further than the
+evidence before us warrants. And it may be observed that precisely
+the same views were held by a large section of the Jews in the year
+of our Lord. They thought that He would come in the splendour of His
+majesty. And because He did not, they hung Him on the tree. Let us
+not stand in peril of the same mistake. As He came before, in the
+simple garb of a simple man, may He not come in that same form again?
+Why not? Who are we that we should answer? I adjure you, in His most
+holy Name, to keep on this matter an open mind, lest we be guilty of
+the same sin as those purblind Jews.
+
+'What we have to do is to know Him when He does come. The notion that
+we shall be sure to do so seems to me to be born of delusion. Did the
+Jews know Him when He came before? No! Why? Because He was a
+contradiction of all their preconceived ideas. They expected one
+thing, and found another. They looked for a king in his glittering
+robes; and, instead, there was a Man who had not where to lay His
+head. There is the crux of the matter; because He was so like
+themselves, they did not know Him for what He was. The difference was
+spiritual, whereas they expected it to be material. The tendency of
+the world is now, as it was then, to look at the material side. Let
+us be careful that we are not deceived. It is by the spirit we shall
+know Him when He comes!'
+
+The words had been rapidly spoken, and the preacher paused at this
+point, perhaps to take breath, or perhaps to collect his thoughts
+prior to diverting the current of his discourse into a slightly
+different channel. At any rate, there was a distinct pause in the
+flow of language. While it continued, Someone stood up in the body of
+the hall, and a Voice inquired:
+
+'Who shall know Him when He comes?'
+
+The question was clearly audible all over the building. It was by no
+means unusual, in that place, for incidents to occur which were not
+in accordance with the programme. Interruptions were not infrequent.
+Both preacher and people were used to them. By a considerable part of
+the audience such interludes were regarded as not the least
+interesting portion of the proceedings. To the fashion in which he
+was wont to deal with such incidents the Rev. Philip Evans owed, in
+no slight degree, his vogue. It was his habit to lose neither his
+presence of mind nor his temper. He was, after his manner, a fighter
+born. Seldom did he show to more advantage than in dealing out
+cut-and-thrust to a rash intervener.
+
+When the Voice asking the question rose from the body of the hall,
+there were those who at once concluded that such an intervention had
+occurred. For the instant, the movement in and out of the doors
+ceased. Heads were craned forward, and eyes and ears strained to lose
+nothing of what was about to happen. Mr. Evans, to whom the question
+seemed addressed, appeared to be no whit taken by surprise. His
+retort was prompt:
+
+'Sir, pray God that you may know Him when He comes.'
+
+The Voice replied:
+
+'I shall know as I shall be known. But who is there shall know Me?'
+
+The Speaker moved towards the platform, threading His way between the
+crowded rows of seats with an ease and a celerity which seemed
+strange. None endeavoured to stop Him. Philip Evans remained silent
+and motionless, watching Him as He came.
+
+When the Stranger had gained the platform, He turned towards the
+people, asking:
+
+'Who is there here that knows Me? Is there one?' There was not one
+that answered. He turned to the preacher. 'Look at Me well. Do you
+not know Me?'
+
+For once in a way Philip Evans seemed uncomfortable and ill at ease
+and abashed.
+
+'How shall I know you, since you are to me a stranger?'
+
+'And yet you have looked for My coming?'
+
+'Your coming? Who are you?'
+
+'Look at Me well. Is there nothing by which you may know Me?'
+
+'I may have seen you before; but, if so, I have certainly forgotten
+it, which is the more strange, since your face is an unusual one.'
+
+'Oh, you Christians, that preach of what you have no knowledge, and
+lay down the law of which you have no understanding!' He turned to
+the people. 'You followers of Christ, that never knew Him, and never
+shall, and would not if you could, yet make a boast of His name, and
+blazon it upon your foreheads, crying, Behold His children! You call
+upon Him in the morning and at night, careless if He listen, and
+fearful lest He hear; saying, with your lips, "We look for His
+coming"; and, with your hearts, "Send it not in our time." It is by
+the spirit you shall know Him. Yes, of a truth. Is there not one
+among you in whom the spirit is? Is there not one?'
+
+The Stranger stood with His arms extended in front of Him, in an
+attitude of appeal. The hush of a perfect silence reigned in the
+great hall. Every countenance was turned to Him, but so far as could
+be seen, not a muscle moved. The predominant expression upon the
+expanse of faces was astonishment, mingled with curiosity. His arms
+sank to His sides.
+
+'He came unto His own, and His own knew Him not!'
+
+The words fell from His lips in tones of infinite pathos. He passed
+from the platform through the hall, and out of the door, followed by
+the eyes of all who were there, none seeking to stay Him.
+
+When He had gone, one of the persons who were associated with the
+conduct of the service went up to Mr. Evans. A few whispered words
+were exchanged between them. Then this person, going to the edge of
+the platform, announced:
+
+'After what has just occurred, I regret to have to inform you that
+Mr. Evans feels himself unable to continue his address. He trusts to
+be able, God willing, to bring it to a close on a more auspicious
+occasion. This evening's service will be brought to a conclusion by
+singing the hymn "Lo, He comes, in clouds descending!"'
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV
+
+                        THE CHILDREN'S MOTHER
+
+
+'You've had your pennyworth.'
+
+'Oh, Charlie, I haven't! you must send me higher. You mustn't stop;
+I've only just begun to swing.'
+
+'I shall stop; it's my turn. You'd keep on for ever.'
+
+The boy drew to one side. The swing began to slow. Doris grew
+indignant. She endeavoured to swing herself, wriggling on the seat,
+twisting herself in various attitudes. The result was failure. The
+swing moved slower. She tried a final appeal.
+
+'Oh, Charlie, I do think you might push me just a little longer; it's
+not fair. You said you'd give me a good one. Then I'll give you a
+splendid swing.'
+
+'You've had a good one. You'd keep on for ever, you would. Get off!'
+
+The swing stopped dead. The girl made a vain attempt to give it
+momentum.
+
+'It's beastly of you,' she said.
+
+She scrambled to the ground. The boy got on. He was not content to
+sit; he stood upright.
+
+'Now, then,' he cried, 'why don't you start me? Don't you see I'm
+ready?'
+
+'You'll tumble off. Mamma said you weren't to stand.'
+
+'Shall stand. Go and tell! Start me!'
+
+'You will tumble.'
+
+'All right, then, I will tumble. Start me! Don't you hear?'
+
+She 'started' him. The swing having received its initial impetus, he
+swung himself. He mounted higher and higher. Doris watched him,
+leaning her right shoulder against the beech tree, her hands behind
+her back. She interpolated occasional remarks on the risk which he
+was running.
+
+'You'll fall if you don't take care. You oughtn't to go so high.
+Mamma said you oughtn't to go so high.'
+
+He received her observations with scorn.
+
+'Just as though I will fall! How silly you are! You will keep on!'
+
+As he spoke, one of the ropes gave way. The other rope swerving, he
+was dashed against an upright. He fell to the ground. The thing was
+the work of an instant. He was ascending jubilantly towards the sky:
+the same second he was lying on the ground. Doris did not realise
+what had happened. She had been envying him the ease with which he
+swung himself, the height of his ascent. She did not understand why
+he had stopped so suddenly. She perceived how still he seemed, half
+wondering.
+
+'Charlie!' His silence frightened her. Her voice sank. 'Charlie!' She
+became angry. 'Why don't you answer me?' She moved closer to him,
+observing in what an ugly heap he lay. 'Charlie!'
+
+Yet he vouchsafed her no reply. He lay so still. It was such an
+unusual thing for Charlie to be still, the strangeness of it began to
+get upon her nerves. Her face clouded. She was making ready to rush
+off and alarm the house in an agony of weeping. Already she was
+starting, when Someone came to her from across the lawn, and laid His
+hand upon her shoulder.
+
+'Doris, what is wrong?'
+
+The voice was a stranger's, and the presence. But she paid no heed to
+that: all her thoughts were concentrated on a single theme.
+
+'Charlie!' she gasped.
+
+'What ails Charlie?'
+
+The Stranger, kneeling beside the silent boy, bent over him, gently
+turning him so that He could see his face. Then, raising him from the
+ground, gathering him in His arms, He held him to His breast; and,
+stooping, He whispered in his ear:
+
+'Wake up, Charlie! Doris wants you.'
+
+And the boy sat up, and looked in the face of Him in whose arms he
+was.
+
+'Hollo!' he said. 'Who are you?'
+
+'The friend of little children.'
+
+There was an appreciable space of time before the answer came, and
+when it did come it was accompanied by a smile, as the Stranger
+looked the boy straight in the eyes. The boy laughed outright.
+
+'I like the look of you.'
+
+Doris drew a little nearer. She had her fingers to her lips, seeming
+more than half afraid.
+
+'Charlie, I thought you were hurt.'
+
+'Hurt!' he flashed at her; then back at the Stranger: 'I'm not hurt,
+am I?'
+
+'No, you are not hurt; you are well, and whole, and strong.'
+
+'But you tumbled from the swing.' The boy stared at Doris as if he
+thought she must be dreaming. 'The swing broke.'
+
+'Broke?' Glancing up, he perceived the severed rope. 'Why, so it
+has.'
+
+'It can soon be mended.'
+
+The Stranger put the boy down, and went to the swing, and
+in a moment the two ends of the rope were joined together.
+Then He lifted them both on the seat, the boy and the girl together--
+there was ample room for both--and swung them gently to and fro. And
+as He swung He talked to them, and they to Him.
+
+And when they had had enough of swinging He went with them, hand in
+hand, and sat with them on the grass by the side of the lake, with
+the trees at their back. And again He talked to them, and they to
+Him. And the simple things of which He spoke seemed strange to them,
+and wonderful. Never had anyone talked to them like that before. They
+kept as close to Him as they could, and put their arms about Him so
+far as they were able, and nestled their faces against His side, and
+they were happy.
+
+While the Stranger and the children still conversed together there
+came down through the woods, towards the lake, a lady and a
+gentleman. He was a tall man, and held himself very straight,
+speaking as if he were very much in earnest.
+
+'Doris, why should we keep on pretending to each other? I know that
+you love me, and you know that I love you. Why should you spoil your
+life--and mine!--for the sake of such a hound?'
+
+'He is my husband.'
+
+She spoke a little below her breath, as if she were ashamed of the
+fact. He struck impatiently at the bracken with his stick.
+
+'Your husband! That creature! As though it were not profanation to
+link you with such an animal.'
+
+'And then there are the children.'
+
+Her voice sank lower, as if this time she spoke of something sacred.
+He noted the difference in the intonation; apparently he resented it.
+He struck more vigorously at the bracken, as if actuated by a desire
+to relieve his feelings. There was an interval, during which both of
+them were silent. Then he turned to her with sudden passion.
+
+'Doris, come with me, at once! now! Give yourself to me, and I'll
+devote my whole life to you. You've known enough of me through all
+these things to be sure that you can trust me. Aren't you sure that
+you can trust me?'
+
+'Yes, I am sure that I can trust you--in a sense.'
+
+Something in her face seemed to make an irresistible appeal to him.
+He took her in his arms, she offering no resistance.
+
+'In a sense? In what sense? Can't you trust me in every sense?'
+
+'I can trust you to be true to me; but I am not so sure that I can
+trust you to let me be true to myself.'
+
+'What hair-splitting's this? I'll let you be true to your own
+womanhood; it's you who shirk. You seem to want me to treat you as if
+you were an automatic figure, not a creature of flesh and blood. I
+can't do it--you can't trust me to do it; that thing's plain. Come,
+darling, let's take the future in our own hands, and together wrest
+happiness from life. You know that at my side you'll be content. See
+how you're trembling! There's proof of it. I'll swear I'll be content
+at yours! Come, Doris, come!'
+
+'Where will you take me?'
+
+'That's not your affair just now. I'll take you where I will. All you
+have to do is--come.'
+
+She drew herself out of his arms, and a little away from him. She put
+up her hand as if to smooth her hair, he watching her with eager
+eyes.
+
+'I'll come.'
+
+He took her again in his embrace, softly, tenderly, as if she were
+some fragile, priceless thing. His voice trembled.
+
+'You darling! When?'
+
+'Now. Since all's over, and everything's to begin again, the sooner a
+beginning's made the better.' A sort of rage came into her voice--a
+note of hysteric pain. 'If you're to take me, take me as I am, in
+what I stand. I dare say he'll send my clothes on after me--and my
+jewels, perhaps.'
+
+It seemed as if her tone troubled him, as if he endeavoured to soothe
+her.
+
+'Don't talk like that, Doris. Everything that you want I'll get you--
+all that your heart can desire.'
+
+'Except peace of mind!'
+
+'I trust that I shall be able to get you even that. Only come!'
+
+'Don't I tell you that I am ready? Why don't you start?'
+
+He appeared to find her manner disconcerting. He searched her face,
+as if to discover if she were in earnest, then looked at his watch.
+
+'If we make haste across the park, we shall be able to catch the
+express to town.'
+
+'Then let's make haste and catch it.'
+
+'Come!'
+
+They began to walk quickly, side by side. As they passed round the
+bend they came on the two children sitting, with the Stranger, beside
+the lake. The children, scrambling to their feet, came running to
+them.
+
+'Mamma,' they cried, 'come and see the friend of little children!'
+
+At sight of them the woman drew back, as if afraid. The man
+interposed.
+
+'Don't worry, you youngsters! Your mother's in a hurry--run away!
+Come, Doris, make haste; we've no time to lose if we wish to catch
+the train.'
+
+He put his arm through hers, and made as if to draw her past them.
+She seemed disposed to linger.
+
+'Let me--say good-bye to them.'
+
+He whispered in her ear:
+
+'There'll only be a scene; don't be foolish, child! There's not a
+moment to lose!' He turned angrily to the boy and girl. 'Don't you
+hear, you youngsters!--run away!' As the children moved aside,
+frightened at his violence, and bewildered by the strangeness of
+their mother's manner, he gripped the woman's arm more firmly,
+beginning by sheer force to hurry her off. 'Come, Doris,' he
+exclaimed, 'don't be an idiot!'
+
+The Stranger, who had been sitting on the grass, stood up and faced
+them.
+
+'Rather be wise. There still is time. What is it you would do?'
+
+The interruption took the pair completely by surprise. The man stared
+angrily at the Stranger.
+
+'Who are you, sir? And what do you mean by interfering in what is no
+concern of yours?
+
+'Are you sure that it is no concern of Mine?'
+
+The man endeavoured to meet the Stranger's eyes, with but scant
+success. His erect, bold, defiant attitude gave place to one of
+curious uncertainty.
+
+'How can it be any concern of yours?'
+
+'All things are My concern, the things which you do, and the things
+which you leave undone. Would it were not so, for many and great are
+the burdens which you lay upon me. You wicked man! Yet more foolish
+even than wicked! What is this woman to you that you should seek to
+slay her body and soul? Is she not of those who know not what is the
+thing they do till it is done? It is well with you if this sin, also,
+shall not be laid to your charge,--that you are a blind leader of the
+blind!'
+
+The Stranger turned to the woman.
+
+'Your eyes shall be opened. Look upon this man to see him as he is.'
+
+The woman looked at the man. As she looked, a change came over him.
+Before her accusatory glance he seemed to dwindle and wax old. He
+grew ugly, his jaw dropped open, his eyes were full of lust, cruelty
+was writ upon his countenance. On a sudden he had become a thing of
+evil. She shrank back with a cry of horror and alarm, while he stood
+before her cowering like some guilty creature whose shame has been
+suddenly made plain. And the Stranger said to him:
+
+'Go! and seek that peace of which you would have robbed her.'
+
+The man, shambling away round the bend in the path, presently was
+lost to sight. The Stranger was left alone with the children and the
+woman. The woman stood before Him trembling, with bowed form and face
+cast down, and she cried:
+
+'Who are you, sir?'
+
+The Stranger replied:
+
+'Look upon Me: and as you knew the man, so, also, you shall know Me.'
+
+She looked on Him, and knew Him, and wept.
+
+'Lord, I know You! Have mercy upon me!'
+
+He answered:
+
+'I am the friend of little children, and of the mothers that bare
+them; for the pains of the women are not little ones; and because
+they are great, so also shall great mercy be shown unto them. For
+unto those that suffer most, shall not most be forgiven? for is not
+suffering akin to repentance?'
+
+And the woman cried:
+
+'Lord, I am not worthy Thy forgiveness!'
+
+And to her He said:
+
+'Is any worthy? No, not one. Yet many are those to whom forgiveness
+comes. There are your children, that are an heritage to you of God.
+Take them, and as you are unto them, so shall God be unto you, and
+more. Return to your husband; say to him what things have happened
+unto you, and fear not because of him.'
+
+And the woman went, holding a child by either hand. And the Stranger
+stood and watched them as they went. And when they had gone some
+distance, the woman turned and looked at Him. And He called to her:
+
+'Be of good courage!'
+
+And after that she saw Him no more.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V
+
+                            THE OPERATION
+
+
+The students crowded the benches. Some wore hats and gloves,
+and carried sticks or umbrellas; they had the appearance of having
+just dropped in to enjoy a little passing relaxation. Others, hatless
+and gloveless, wore instead an air of intense pre-occupation; they
+had note-books in their hands, and spent the time studying anatomical
+charts in sombre-covered volumes. Many were smoking pipes for the
+most part; the air was heavy with tobacco smoke. Nearly everybody
+talked; there was a continual clatter of voices; men on one side
+called to men on the other, exchanging jokes and laughter.
+
+In the well below were the tables for the operator and his
+paraphernalia. Assistants were making all things ready. The smell of
+antiseptic fluids mingled with the odour of tobacco. Omnipresent was
+the pungent suggestion of carbolic acid. A glittering array of
+instruments was being sterilised and placed in order for the
+operator's hand. The anaesthetists were busy with their preparations
+to expedite unconsciousness, the dressers with their bandages to be
+applied when the knives had made an end.
+
+There was about the whole theatre, and in particular about the little
+array of men upon the floor in their white shrouds, who were occupied
+in doing things the meaning of which was hidden from the average
+layman, something which the unaccustomed eye and ear and stomach
+would have found repulsive. But in the bearing of those who were
+actually present there was no hint that the work in which they were
+to be engaged had about it any of the elements of the disagreeable.
+They were, taking them all in all, and so far as appearances went, a
+careless, lighthearted, jovial crew.
+
+When the operator entered, accompanied by two colleagues, there was
+silence, or, rather, a distinct hush. Pipes were put out, men settled
+in their seats, note-books were opened, opera-glasses were produced.
+The operator was a man of medium height and slender build, with
+slight side-whiskers and thin brown hair, which was turning gray. He
+wore spectacles. Having donned the linen duster, he turned up his
+shirtsleeves close to his shoulders, and with bare arms began to
+examine the preparations which the assistants had made. He glanced at
+the instruments, commented on the bandages, gave some final
+directions to an irrigator; then each man fell into his place and
+waited. The door opened and a procession entered. A stretcher was
+carried in by two men, one at the head and one at the foot. A nurse
+walked by the side, holding the patient by the hand; two other nurses
+accompanied. The patient was lifted on to the table. The porters,
+with the stretcher, withdrew. The nurse who had held the patient's
+hand stooped and kissed her, whispering words of comfort. The
+operator bent also. What he said was clearly audible.
+
+'Don't be afraid; it will be all right.'
+
+The patient said nothing. She was a woman of about thirty years, and
+was suffering from cancer in the womb.
+
+Anaesthetics were applied, but she took them badly, fighting,
+struggling against their influence, crying and whimpering all the
+time. Force had to be used to restrain her movements on the table.
+When she felt their restraining hands, she began to be hysterical and
+to scream. A second attempt was made to bring about unconsciousness;
+again without result. The surgeons held a hurried consultation as to
+whether the operation should be carried out with the patient still in
+possession of her senses. It was resolved that there should be a
+third and more drastic effort to produce anaesthesia. On that occasion
+the desired result was brought about. Her cries and struggles ceased;
+she was in a state of torpor.
+
+The body was bared; the knife began its work....
+
+The operation was not wholly successful. There had been fears that it
+would fail; but as, if it were not attempted, an agonising death
+would certainly ensue, it had been felt that it was a case in which
+every possible chance should be taken advantage of, and in which the
+undoubted risk was worth incurring. The woman was still young. She
+had a husband who loved her and children whom she loved. She did not
+wish to die; so it had been decided that surgical science should do
+its best to win life for her.
+
+But it appeared that the worst fears on her account were likely to be
+realised. The operation was a prolonged one. The resistance she had
+offered to the application of the anaesthetics had weakened her. Soon
+after the surgeon began his labours it became obvious to those who
+knew him best that he had grave doubts as to what would be the issue.
+As he continued, his doubts grew more; they were exchanged for
+certainties, until it began to be whispered through the theatre that
+the operation, which was being brought to as rapid a conclusion as
+possible, was being conducted on a subject who was already dead.
+
+The woman had died under the surgeon's knife. Shortly the fact was
+established beyond the possibility of challenge. Reagents of every
+kind were applied in the most effective possible manner; medical
+skill and experience did its utmost; but neither the Materia Medica
+nor the brains of doctors shall prevail against death, and this woman
+was already dead.
+
+When the thing was made plain, there came into the atmosphere a
+peculiar quality. The students were very still; they neither moved
+nor spoke, but sat stiffly, with their eyes fixed on the naked woman
+extended on the oilskin pad. Some of those faces were white, their
+features set and rigid. This was notably the case with those who were
+youngest and most inexperienced, though there were those among the
+seniors who were ill at ease. It was almost as if they had been
+assisting at a homicide; before their eyes they had seen this woman
+done to death. The operator was a man whose nerve was notorious, or
+he would not have held the position which he did; but even he seemed
+to have been nonplussed by what had happened beneath his knife. His
+assistants clustered together, eyeing him askance, and each other,
+and the woman, with the useless bandages hiding the gaping wound. His
+colleagues whispered apart. They and he were all drabbled with blood;
+each seemed conscious of his ensanguined hands. All in the building
+had come full of faith in the man whose fame as a surgeon was a
+byword; it was as though their faith had received an ugly jar.
+
+While the hush endured, One rose from His place on the benches, and
+stepping on to the operating floor, moved towards the woman. An
+assistant endeavoured to interpose.
+
+'Go back to your place, sir. What do you mean by coming here?'
+
+'You have done your work. Am I not, then, to do Mine?'
+
+The assistant stared, taken aback by what seemed to him to be
+impudence.
+
+'Don't talk nonsense! Who are you, sir?'
+
+'I am He you know not of--a help to those in pain.'
+
+The assistant hesitated, glancing from the Speaker to his chief. The
+Stranger drew a sheet over the woman, so that only her face remained
+uncovered. Turning to the operator, He beckoned with His finger.
+
+'Come!'
+
+The surgeon went. The Stranger said to him, pointing towards the
+woman:
+
+'Insomuch as what you have done was done for her, it is well;
+insomuch as it was done for your own advancing, it was ill. Yet be
+not afraid. Blessed are the hands which heal men's wounds, and wipe
+the tears of pain out of their eyes. Better to be of use to those
+that suffer than to be a king. For the time shall come when you shall
+say: "As I did unto others, so do, Lord, unto me." And it shall be
+done. Yet do it, not for the swelling of your purse, but for your
+brother's sake, and your payment shall be of God.'
+
+And the Stranger, turning, spoke to the students on the benches; and
+their eyes never moved from Him as, wondering, they listened to His
+words.
+
+'Hearken, O young men, while I speak to you of the things which your
+fathers have forgotten, and would not remember if they could. You
+would go forth as healers of men? It is well. Go forth! Heal! The
+world is very sick. Women labour; men sigh because of their pains.
+But, physicians, heal first yourselves. Be sure that you go forth in
+the spirit of healing. Where there is suffering, there go; ask not
+why it comes, nor whence, nor what shall be the fee. Heal only. The
+labourer is worthy of his hire; yet it is not for his hire he should
+labour. Heal for the healing's sake, and because of the pain which is
+in the world. God shall measure out to the physician his appointed
+fee. Trouble not yourselves with that. The less your gain, the
+greater your gain. There is One that keeps count. Each piece of money
+you heap upon the other lessens your store. I tell you that there is
+joy in heaven each time a sufferer is eased, at his brother's hands,
+of pain, because it was his brother.'
+
+When the Stranger ceased, the students looked from him at each other.
+They began to murmur among themselves.
+
+'Who is this fellow?'
+
+'What does he mean by preaching at us?'
+
+'Inflicting on us a string of platitudes!'
+
+And one, bolder than the rest, called out:
+
+'Yours is excellent advice, sir, but in the light of what's just
+occurred it seems hardly to the point. Couldn't you demonstrate
+instead of talk?'
+
+The Stranger looked in the direction from which the voice came.
+
+'Stand up!'
+
+The student stood up. He was a young man of about twenty-four, with a
+shrewd, earnest face. In his hand he held an open note-book.
+
+'Always the world seeks for a sign; without a sign it will not
+believe--nor with a sign. What demonstration would you have of Me?'
+
+'Are you a doctor, sir?'
+
+'I am a healer of men.'
+
+'With what degree?'
+
+'One you know not of.'
+
+'Yet I thought I knew something of all degrees.'
+
+'Not all. Young man, you will find the world easy, heaven hard. Yet
+because there are many here like unto you, I will show to you a sign;
+exhibit My degree.'
+
+The Stranger turned to the operating surgeon.
+
+'You say that the woman whom you sought to heal is dead?'
+
+'Beyond a doubt, unfortunately.'
+
+'You are sure?'
+
+'Certain.'
+
+'Of that you are all persuaded?'
+
+Again there came murmurs from the students on the benches:
+
+'What's he up to?'
+
+'Who's he getting at?'
+
+'Throw him out!'
+
+The Stranger waited till the murmuring was at an end. Then He turned
+to the woman, and, stooping, kissed her on the lips.
+
+'Daughter!' He said.
+
+And, behold, the woman sat up and looked about her.
+
+'Where am I?' she asked, as one who wakes from sleep.
+
+'Is all well with you?'
+
+'Oh, yes, all's well with me, thank God!'
+
+'That is good hearing.'
+
+Then there was a tumult in the theatre. The students stood up in
+their places, speaking all together.
+
+'How's he done it?'
+
+'She must have been only shamming.'
+
+'It's a trick!'
+
+'It's a plant!'
+
+'It's a got-up thing between them.'
+
+Insults were hurled at the Stranger by a hundred different voices. In
+the heat of their excitement the students came streaming down from
+their seats on to the operating floor. They looked for the man who
+had done this thing.
+
+'Where is he?' they cried. 'We'll make him confess how the trick was
+done.'
+
+But He whom they sought was not there. He had already gone. When they
+discovered that this was so, and that He whom they sought was not to
+be found, but had vanished from before their eyes, their bewilderment
+grew still more. With one accord they turned to look at the woman.
+
+As if alarmed by the noise of their threatening voices, and the
+confusion caused by their tumultuous movements, she had raised
+herself upon the operating table, so that she stood upright before
+them all, naked as she was born. And they saw that the bandages had
+fallen from off her, and that her body was without scratch and
+blemish, round and whole.
+
+'It's a miracle!' they exclaimed.
+
+A great silence fell over them all, until, presently, the surgeons
+and the students, looking each into the other's faces, began to ask,
+each of his neighbour:
+
+'Who is the man that has done this thing?'
+
+But the woman gave thanks unto God, weeping tears of joy.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI
+
+                             THE BLACKLEG
+
+
+The foreman shrugged his shoulders. He avoided looking at the
+applicant, an undersized man, with straggling black beard and dull
+eyes. Even now, while pressing his appeal, he wore an air of being
+but slightly interested.
+
+'You know, Jones, what the conditions of employ were--keep on the
+works.'
+
+'But my little girl's ill!'
+
+'Sorry to hear it; but you don't want to have any trouble. You heard
+how they treated your wife when she came in; they'd be much worse to
+you if I was to let you out. They're pretty near beat, and they know
+it, and they don't like it, and before they quite knock under they'd
+like to make a mark of someone. If it was you, they might make a mark
+too many; they're not overfond of you just now, as you know very
+well. And then where will you be, eh? How would your little girl be
+any better for their laying you out?'
+
+Jones turned to his wife, a sort of feminine replica of himself. She
+had her shawl drawn over her head.
+
+'You hear, Jane, what Mr. Mason says?'
+
+Mrs. Jones sighed; even in her sigh there was a curious reproduction
+of her husband's lack of interest.
+
+'All I know is that the doctor don't seem to have no great 'opes
+about Matilda, and that she keeps a-calling for you, Tom.'
+
+'Does she? Then I go! Mr. Mason, I'm a-goin'.'
+
+'All right, Jones, go! Don't think that I don't feel for yer, 'cause
+I do, but as to coming back again, that's another matter. Mind, we
+can do without yer, and we don't want no fuss, that's all. Things
+have been bad enough up to now, and we don't want 'em to be no
+worse.'
+
+Outside the gates there was a considerable crowd. Among the crowd
+were the pickets and a fair leaven of the men on strike; but a large
+majority of the people might have been described as sympathisers.
+Unwise sympathisers they for the most part were; more bent on
+striking than the strikers; more resolute to fight the battle to the
+bitter end. The knowledge that already surrender was in the air
+angered them. They were in an ugly temper, disposed to 'take it out
+of' the first most convenient object.
+
+As Mrs. Jones had made her way through them towards the gates she had
+been subjected to gibes and jeers, and worse. She had been pushed and
+hustled. More than one hand had been laid rudely on her. Someone had
+thrown a shovelful of dirt with such adroitness that it had burst in
+a shower on her head. While she was still nearly blinded she had been
+pushed hither and thither with half good-humoured horse-play, which
+was near akin to something else.
+
+Tom Jones was an unpopular figure. He was one of the most notorious
+of the blacklegs, in a sense their leader. He had persisted in being
+master of his own volition; asserted his right to labour for whom he
+pleased, at whatever terms he chose. Such men are the greatest
+enemies of trades unions. Allow a man his freedom, and unionism, in
+its modern sense, is at an end. It is one of the questions of the
+moment whether the good of the greatest number does not imperatively
+demand special legislation which shall hold such men in bonds; which
+shall make it a penal offence for them to consider themselves free.
+
+Word had gone round that Jones's little girl was ill; that the doctor
+had decided she was dying; that Mrs. Jones had come to fetch him home
+to bid the child good-bye. By most of those there it was
+unhesitatingly agreed that this was as it should be; that Jones was
+being served just right; that he was only getting a bit of what he
+ought to have, which, it was quite within the range of possibility,
+they would supplement with something else.
+
+It was because of Jones and his like that the strike was failing, had
+failed; that they were beaten and broken, brought to their knees, in
+spite of all their organisation, of what they had endured. Jones! It
+was currently reported that the idea of giving the blacklegs food and
+lodging on the premises, and so rendering the wiles of the pickets of
+no avail, was Jones's. At any rate, he had been among the first to
+fall in with the proposition, and for many days he had not been
+outside the gates. Jones! Let him put his face outside those gates
+now and he would see what they would show him.
+
+When the gates were opened, and Mrs. Jones had entered, they waited,
+murmuring and muttering, with twitching fingers and lowering brows,
+wondering if the prospect of being able to bid his dying child
+good-bye would be sufficient inducement to him to trust himself
+outside there in the open. And while they wondered he came.
+
+Again the gate was opened. Out came Jones; close behind him was his
+wife. Then the gate was shut to with a bang.
+
+He was known by sight to many in the crowd. By them the knowledge of
+who he was was instantly communicated to all the rest. He was not
+greeted with any tumult; they were too much in earnest to be noisy.
+But, with one accord, they cursed him, and their curses, though not
+loudly uttered, reached him, every one. He stood fronting the array
+of angry faces, all inclined in his direction.
+
+The three policemen, who kept a clear space in front of the works,
+and saw that ingress and egress was gained with some sort of ease,
+hardly seemed to know what to make of him, or of the situation. They
+glanced at Jones, then at the crowd, then at each other. All the
+morning the people had been gathering round the gate, the number
+increasing as the minutes passed. Except that they could not be
+induced to move away, there had been little to object to in their
+demeanour until now. As Jones appeared with his wife they formed
+together into a more compact mass. Another shovelful of dust was
+thrown by someone at the back with the same dexterity as before, so
+that it lighted on the man and the woman, partially obscuring them
+beneath a cloud of dust. That same instant perhaps a dozen stones
+were thrown, some of which struck both Mr. and Mrs. Jones, the rest
+rattling against the gate.
+
+It was done so quickly that the police had not a chance to offer
+interference. They had been instructed to make as little show of
+authority as possible, to bear as much as could be borne, and, until
+the last extremity, to do nothing to rouse the rancour of the
+strikers. In the face of this sudden assault the trio hesitated. Then
+the one nearest to the gate held his hand up to the crowd, shouting:
+
+'Now, you chaps, none of that! Don't you go making fools of
+yourselves, or you'll be sorry!' He turned to the Joneses. 'You'd
+better go back and try to get out some other way. There'll be trouble
+if you stop here.'
+
+Tom Jones asked him stolidly, gazing with his lack-lustre eyes
+intently at the crowd:
+
+'Which other way?'
+
+'I don't know--any other way. You can't get this way, that's plain--
+they mean mischief. Back you go, before you're sorry.'
+
+The constable endeavoured to hustle the pair back within the gate.
+But Jones would not have it.
+
+'My child's dying; this is the nearest way to her. I'm going this
+way.'
+
+The officer persisted in his attempt to persuade him to change his
+mind.
+
+'Don't be silly! You won't do your child any good by getting yourself
+knocked to pieces, will you?'
+
+Tom Jones was obstinate.
+
+'I'm going this way.'
+
+Slipping past the constable, he moved towards the crowd. The people
+confronted him like a solid wall.
+
+'Let me pass, you chaps.'
+
+That moment the storm broke. The man's stolid demeanour, the complete
+indifference with which he faced their rage, might have had something
+to do with it. The effect of his request to be allowed to pass was as
+if he had dropped a lighted match into a powder-magazine. An
+explosion followed. The air was rent by curses; the people became all
+at once like madmen. Possessed with sudden frenzy, they crowded round
+the man, raining on him a hail of blows, each man struggling with his
+fellow in order to reach the object of his rage. Their very fury
+defeated their purpose. Not a few of the blows which were meant for
+Jones fell on their own companions. With the commencement of the
+attack Jones's stolidity completely vanished. He was transformed into
+a fiend, and behaved like one. His voice was heard above the others,
+pouring forth a flood of objurgations on the heads of his assailants.
+His wife was his slavish disciple. Her shrill tones were mingled with
+his deeper ones; they were at least as audible. Her language was no
+better, her passion was no less. The man and the woman fought like
+wild beasts. And so blinded by fury were the efforts of their
+assailants that the pair were able to give back much more than they
+received.
+
+The attempts of the police at pacification were useless. They were
+not in sufficient force. And there is a point in the temper of a
+crowd at which its rage is not to be appeased until it has vented
+itself on the object of its fury. All that the officers succeeded in
+doing was to lose their own tempers. Under certain circumstances
+there is irresistible contagion in a madman's frenzy. Presently they
+themselves were mingling in the frantic melee, apparently with as
+little show of reason as the rest.
+
+Suddenly the crowd gave way towards the centre. Those in the middle
+were borne down by those who persisted in pressing on. There was a
+struggling, heaving, mouthing mass upon the ground, with the Joneses
+underneath. And, as the writhings and contortions of this heap grew
+less and less, there came One, before whose touch men gave way, so
+that, before they knew it, He stood there, in their very midst,
+before them all. In His presence their rage was stilled. Ceasing to
+contend, they drew back, looking towards Him with their bloodshot
+eyes. Where had been the pile of living men was a clear space, in
+which He stood. At His feet were two forms--Tom Jones and his wife.
+The woman cried and groaned, twisting her limbs; but the man lay
+still.
+
+'What is it that you would do?'
+
+With the sorrowful inflexion of the voice was blended a satiric
+intonation which seemed to strike some of those who heard as with a
+thong. One man, a big, burly fellow, chose to take the question as
+addressed to himself. He still trembled with excess of rage; his
+voice was husky; from his mouth there came a volley of oaths.
+
+'Bash the ---- to a jelly--that's what we'd like to do to
+his ---- carcase! It's through the likes of him that our homes are
+broken up, our kids starving, our wives with pretty near nothing on.
+Killing's too good for such a----!'
+
+'Who are you that you should judge your brother?'
+
+The man spat on the pavement.
+
+'He's no brother of mine--not much he ain't! If I'd a brother like
+him, I'd cut my throat!'
+
+'Since all men are brethren, and this is a man, if he is not your
+brother, what, then, are you?'
+
+'He's no man! If he is, I hope I ain't.'
+
+The Stranger was for a moment silent, looking at the speaker, who,
+drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, averted his glance.
+
+'You are a man--as he is. Would that you both were more than men, or
+less. Go, all of you that would shed innocent blood, knowing not what
+it is you do. Wash the stain from off your hands; for if your hands
+are clean, so also are your hearts. As your ignorance is great, so
+also is God's mercy. Go, I say, and learn who is your brother.'
+
+And the people went, slinking off, for the most part, in little
+groups of threes and fours, muttering together. Some there were who
+made haste, and ran, thinking that the man was dead, and fearful of
+what might follow.
+
+When they were all gone, the Stranger turned to the woman, who still
+cried and made a noise.
+
+'Cease, woman, and go to your daughter, lest she be dead before you
+come.'
+
+And stooping, he touched the man upon the shoulder, saying:
+
+'Rise!'
+
+And the man stood up, and the Stranger said to him:
+
+'Haste, and go to your daughter, who calls for you continually.'
+
+And the man and the woman went away together, without a word.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VII
+
+                            IN PICCADILLY
+
+
+It was past eleven. The people, streaming out of the theatres, poured
+into Piccadilly Circus. The night was fine, so that those on foot
+were disposed to take their time. The crowd was huge, its constituent
+parts people of all climes and countries, of all ranks and stations.
+To the unaccustomed eye the confusion was bewildering; omnibuses
+rolled heavily in every direction; hansom cabs made efforts to break
+through what, to the eyes of their sanguine drivers, seemed breaks in
+the line of traffic; carriages filled with persons in evening-dress
+made such haste as they could. The pavements were crowded almost to
+the point of danger; even in the roadway foot-passengers passed
+hither and thither amidst the throng of vehicles, while on every side
+vendors of evening papers pushed and scrambled, shouting out, with
+stentorian lungs, what wares they had to sell.
+
+The papers met with a brisk demand. Strange tales were told in them.
+Readers were uncertain as to the light in which they ought to be
+regarded; editors were themselves in doubt as to the manner in which
+it would be proper to set them forth. Some wrote in a strain which
+was intended to be frankly humorous; others told the stories baldly,
+leaving readers to take them as they chose; while still a third set
+did their best to dish them up in the shape of a wild sensation.
+
+It was currently reported that a Mysterious Stranger had appeared in
+London. During the last few hours He had been seen by large numbers
+of people. The occasions on which He had created the most remarkable
+impressions had been two. At St. John's Hall the Rev. Philip Evans
+had been preaching on the Second Coming, when, in the middle of the
+discourse, a Stranger had appeared upon the platform, actually
+claiming, so far as could be gathered, to be the Christ. In the
+operating theatre at St. Philip's Hospital, just as a subject--a
+woman--had succumbed under the surgeon's knife, a Stranger had come
+upon the scene, and, before all eyes, had restored the dead to life.
+It was this story of the miracle, as it was called, at St. Philip's
+Hospital, which had been exciting London all that day. The thing was
+incredible; but the witnesses were so reputable, their statements so
+emphatic, the details given so precise, it was difficult to know what
+to make of it. And now in the evening papers there was a story of how
+a riot had taken place outside Messrs. Anthony's works. The strikers
+had attacked a blackleg. A stranger had come upon them while they
+were in the very thick of the fracas; at a word from Him the tumult
+ceased; before His presence the brawlers had scattered like chaff
+before the wind. The latest editions were full of the tale; it was in
+everybody's mouth.
+
+Christ's name was in the air, the topic of the hour. The Stranger's
+claim was, of course, absurd, unspeakable. He was an impostor, some
+charlatan; at best, a religious maniac. Similar creatures had arisen
+before, notably in the United States, though we had not been without
+them here in England, and Roman Catholic countries had had their
+share. The story of the dead woman who had been restored to life at
+St. Philip's Hospital was odd, but it was capable of natural
+explanation. To doubt this would be to write one's self down a
+lunatic, a superstitious fool, a relic of medieval ignorance. There
+is no going outside natural laws; the man who pretends to do so
+writes himself down a knave, and pays those to whom he appeals a very
+scanty compliment. Why, even the most pious of God's own ministers
+have agreed that there are no miracles, and never have been. Go to
+with your dead woman restored to life! Yet, the tale was an odd one,
+especially as it was so well attested. But then the thing was so well
+done that it seemed that those present were in a state of mind in
+which they would have been prepared to swear to anything.
+
+Still, Christ's name was in the air--in an unusual sense. It came
+from unaccustomed lips. Even the women of the pavement spoke of
+Jesus, wondering if there was such a man, and what would happen if He
+were to come again.
+
+'Suppose this fellow in the papers turned out to be Him, how would
+that be then?' one inquired of the other. Then both were silent, for
+they were uneasy; and at the first opportunity they solaced
+themselves with a drink.
+
+The men for the most part were more outspoken in ribaldry than
+the women, especially those specimens of masculinity who frequented
+at that hour the purlieus of Piccadilly Circus. Common-sense was
+their stand-by. What was not in accordance with the teachings of
+common-sense was nothing. How could it be otherwise? Judged by this
+standard, the tales which were told were nonsense, sheer and
+absolute. Therefore, in so far as they were concerned, the scoffer's
+was the proper mental attitude. The editors who wrote of them
+humorously were the level-headed men. They were only fit to be
+laughed at.
+
+'If I'd been at St. Philip's, I'd have got hold of that very
+mysterious stranger, and I'd have kept hold until I'd got from him an
+explanation of that pretty little feat of hanky-panky.'
+
+The speaker was standing at the Piccadilly corner of the Circus, by
+the draper's shop. He was a tall man, and held a cigar in his mouth.
+His overcoat was open, revealing the evening dress beneath. The man
+to whom he spoke was shorter. He was dressed in tweeds; his soft felt
+hat, worn a little on one side of his head, lent to him a mocking
+air. When the other spoke, he laughed.
+
+'I'd like to have a shy at him myself. I've seen beggars of his sort
+in India, where they do a lot of mischief, sometimes sending whole
+districts stark staring mad. But there they do believe in them; thank
+goodness we don't!'
+
+'How do you make that out, when you read the names of the people who
+are prepared to swear to the truth of the St. Philip's tale?'
+
+'My dear boy, long before this they're sorry. Fellows lost their
+heads--sort of moment of delirium, which will leave a bad taste in
+their mouths now they've got well out of it. If that mysterious
+gentleman ever comes their way again, they'll be every bit as ready
+to keep a tight hold of him as you could be.'
+
+'I wonder.' The tall man puffed at his cigar. 'I'd give--well, Grey,
+I won't say how much, but I'd give a bit to have him stand in front
+of me just here and now. That kind of fellow makes me sick. The
+common or garden preacher I don't mind; he has his uses. But the kind
+of creature who tries to trade on the folly of the great majority, by
+trying to make out that he's something which he isn't--whenever he's
+about there ought to be a pump just handy. We're too lenient to
+cattle of his particular breed.'
+
+'Suppose, Boyle, this mysterious stranger were to appear in
+Piccadilly now, what's the odds that you, for one, wouldn't try to
+plug him in the eye?'
+
+'I don't know about me, but I'm inclined to think that there are
+others who would endeavour their little best to reach him
+thereabouts. Piccadilly at this time of night is hardly the place for
+a mysterious anyone to cut a figure to much advantage. I fancy
+there'd be ructions. Anyhow, I'd like to see him come.'
+
+Mr. Boyle's tone was grim. His companion laughed; but before the
+sound of his laughter had long died out the speaker's wish was
+gratified.
+
+All in an instant, without any sort of warning, there was one of
+those scenes which occur in Piccadilly on most nights of the week. A
+woman had been drinking; she was young, new to her trade, still
+unaccustomed to the misuse of stimulants. She made a noise. A female
+acquaintance endeavoured to induce her to go away; in vain. The
+girl, pulling up her skirts, began to dance and shout, and to behave
+like a virago, among the throng of loiterers who were peopling the
+pavement. A man made some chaffing remark to her. She flew at him
+like a tiger-cat. Directly there was an uproar. There are times and
+seasons when it requires but a very little thing to transform those
+midnight Saturnalia into chaos. The police hurled themselves into the
+struggling throng, making captives of practically everyone on whom
+they could lay their hands.
+
+The crowd was in uncomfortable proximity to Mr. Grey and his friend.
+It swayed in their direction.
+
+'We'd better clear out of this, Boyle, before there's an ugly rush
+comes our way. Let's get across the road. I'm in no humour for
+skittles to-night, if you don't mind.'
+
+The speaker glanced smilingly towards the seething throng. It was the
+humorous side of the thing which appealed to him; he had seen it so
+often before. Boyle diverted his attention.
+
+'Hollo! who's this?'
+
+Someone stepped from the roadway on to the pavement, moving quickly,
+yet lightly, so that there was about His actions no appearance of
+haste. He held His hands a little raised. People made way to let Him
+pass, as if they knew that He was coming, even though He approached
+them in silence from behind.
+
+'It's Christ!'
+
+The exclamation was Grey's reply to his friend's query. Boyle,
+starting, turned to stare at him.
+
+'Grey, what do you mean?'
+
+'It's Christ! Don't you know Christ when you see him? It's the
+mysterious stranger! Why don't you go and lay fast hold on him?'
+
+Boyle stared at his friend in silence. There was that in his manner
+which was disconcerting--an obsession. The fashion of his face was
+changed; a new light was in his eyes. The big man seemed half amused,
+half startled. As he stood and listened and watched, his amusement
+diminished, his appearance of being startled grew.
+
+The crowd had given way before the Stranger, making a lane through
+which He had passed to its midst; and it was silent. The vehicles
+rumbled along the road; from the other side of the street the voices
+of newsboys assailed the air; pedestrians went ceaselessly to and
+fro; but there, where the noise had just been greatest, all was
+still--a strange calm had come on the excited throng.
+
+There were there all sorts and conditions of men and women that had
+fallen away from virtue. There were men of all ages, from white
+haired to beardless boys; from those who had drained the cup of vice
+to its uttermost dregs, yet still clutched with frantic, trembling
+fingers at the empty goblet, to those who had just begun to peep over
+its edge, and to feast their eyes on its fulness to the brim. There
+were men of all stations, from old and young rakes of fortune and
+family to struggling clerks, shop-assistants, office-boys, and those
+creatures of the gutter who rake the kennels for offal with which to
+fill their bellies. Among the women there was the same diversity.
+They were of all nations--English, French, German, and the rest; of
+all ages--grandmothers and girls who had not yet attained to the age
+of womanhood. There were some of birth and breeding, and there were
+daughters of the slums, heritors of their mothers' foulness. There
+were the comparatively affluent, and there were those who had gone
+all day hungry, and who still looked for a stroke of fortune to gain
+for them a night's lodging. But they all were the same; they all had
+painted faces, and they all were decked in silks and satins or such
+other tawdry splendour as by any crooked means they could lay their
+hands on which would serve to advertise their trade.
+
+And in the midst of this assemblage of the dregs of humanity the
+Stranger stood; and He put to them the question which was to become
+familiar ere long to not a few of the people of the city:
+
+'What is it you would do?'
+
+They returned no answer; instead, they looked at Him askance, doubt,
+hesitancy, surprise, wonder, awe, revealing themselves in varying
+degrees upon their faces as they were seen beneath the paint.
+
+Two policemen had in custody the young woman who had been the
+original cause of disturbance. Each held her by an arm. The Stranger
+turned to them.
+
+'Loose her.'
+
+Without an attempt at remonstrance they did as He bade. They took
+their hands from off her and set her free. She stood before them,
+seeming ashamed and sobered, with downcast face, seeking the pavement
+with her eyes. But all at once, as if she could not bear the silence
+any longer, she raised her head and met His glance, asking:
+
+'Who are you?'
+
+'Do you not know Me?'
+
+'Know you?'
+
+Her tone suggested that she was searching her memory to recall His
+face.
+
+'If you do not know Me now that you look on Me, then shall I never be
+known to you. Yet it is strange that it should be so, for I am the
+Friend of sinners.'
+
+'The Friend----'
+
+The girl got so far in repeating the Strangers words, then suddenly
+stopped, and, bursting into a passion of tears, threw herself on her
+knees on the pavement at His feet crying:
+
+'Lord, I know You! Have mercy upon me!'
+
+The Stranger touched her with His hand.
+
+'In that you know Me it shall be well with you.'
+
+He looked about him on the crowd.
+
+'Would that you all knew Me, even as this woman does!'
+
+But the people eyed each other, wondering. There were some who
+laughed, and others inquired among themselves:
+
+'Who is this fellow? And what is the matter with the girl, that she
+goes on like this?'
+
+One there was who cried:
+
+'Tell us who you are.'
+
+'I am He that you know not of.'
+
+'That's all right, so far as it goes, but it doesn't go far enough;
+it's an insufficient definition. What's your name?'
+
+'Day and night you call upon My name, yet do not know Me.'
+
+'Look here, my friend; are you suggesting that you're anybody in
+particular? because, if so, tell us straight out, who? We're not good
+at conundrums, and at this time of night it's not fair to start us
+solving them.'
+
+The Stranger was silent. His gaze passed eagerly from face to face.
+When He had searched them all, He cried:
+
+'Is there not one that knows Me save this woman? Is there not one?'
+
+A man came out from amidst the people, and stood in front of the
+Stranger.
+
+'I know You,' he said. 'You are Christ.'
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII
+
+                      THE ONLY ONE THAT WAS LEFT
+
+
+Stillness followed the man's words until the people began to fidget,
+and to shuffle with their feet, and to murmur:
+
+'What talk is this? What blasphemy does this man utter? Who is this
+mountebank to whom he speaks?'
+
+But the Stranger continued to look at the man who had come out from
+the crowd. And He asked him:
+
+'How is it that you know Me, since I do not know you?'
+
+The man laughed, and, as he did so, it was seen that the Stranger
+started, and drew a little back.
+
+'Because I know You, it doesn't follow that You should know me. I'd
+rather that You didn't. Directly You came into the street I knew that
+it was You, and wished You further. What do You want to trouble us
+for? Aren't we better off without You?'
+
+The Stranger held up His hand as if to keep the other from Him.
+
+'You thing all evil, return to your own kind!'
+
+The man drew back into the crowd, a little uncertainly, as if
+crestfallen, but laughing all the time. He strode off down the
+street; they could still hear his laughter as he went. The Stranger,
+with the people, seemed to listen. As the sound grew fainter He cried
+to them with a loud voice:
+
+'Save this woman and that man, is there none that knows Me? No, not
+one!'
+
+The traffic had been brought almost to a standstill. The dimensions
+of the crowd had increased. There was a block of vehicles before it
+in the street. From the roof of an omnibus, which was crowded within
+and without with passengers, there came a shout as of a strong man:
+
+'Lord, I know You! God be thanked that He has suffered me to see this
+day!'
+
+The Stranger replied, stretching out His arms in the direction in
+which the speaker was:
+
+'It is well with you, friend, and shall be better. Go, spread the
+tidings! Tell those that know Me that I am come!'
+
+There came the answer back:
+
+'Even so, Lord, I will do Your bidding; and in the city there shall
+rise the sound of a great song. Hark! I hear the angels singing!'
+
+There came over the crowd's mood one of those sudden changes to which
+such heterogeneous gatherings are essentially liable. As question and
+answer passed to and fro, and the man's voice rose to a triumphal
+strain, the people began to be affected by a curious sense of
+excitation, asking of each other:
+
+'Who, then, is this man? Is he really someone in particular? Perhaps
+he may be able to do something for us, or to give us something, if we
+ask him. Who knows?'
+
+They began to press upon Him, men and women, old and young, rich and
+poor, each with a particular request of his or her own.
+
+'Give us a trifle!'
+
+'The price of a night's lodging!'
+
+'A drop to drink!'
+
+'A cab-fare!'
+
+'Tell us who you are!'
+
+'Give us a speech!'
+
+'If you can do miracles, do one now!'
+
+'Cure the lot of us!'
+
+'Make us whole!'
+
+The requests were of all sorts and kinds. The Stranger looked upon
+the throng of applicants with glances in which were both pity and
+pain.
+
+'What I would give to you you will not have. What, then, is it that I
+shall give to you?'
+
+There was a chorus in return. For every material want He was
+entreated to provide. He shook His head.
+
+'Those things which you ask I cannot give; they are not Mine. I have
+not money, nor money's worth. There is none amongst you that is so
+poor as I am.'
+
+'Then what can you give?'
+
+'Those who would know what I can give must follow Me. The way is
+hard, and the journey long. At the end is the peace which is not of
+this world.'
+
+'Where do you go?'
+
+'Unto My Father.'
+
+'Who is your father?'
+
+'Those that know Me know also My Father.'
+
+Turning as he spoke, He began to walk in the direction of Hyde Park.
+Some of the people, apparently supposing that His injunction to
+follow Him was to be understood in a literal sense, formed in a
+straggling band behind Him. At first there were not many. His
+movement, which was unexpected, had taken the bulk of the crowd by
+surprise. For some seconds it was not generally realised that He had
+commenced to pass away. When all became aware of what was happening,
+and it was understood that the mysterious Stranger was going from
+them, another wave of excitement passed through the throng, and
+something like a rush was made to keep within sight of Him. The
+farther they went, the greater became the number of those that went
+with Him. But it was observed that none came within actual touch. He
+walked with people in front, behind, on either side, yet alone. He
+occupied an empty space in their very midst, with no one within six
+or seven feet, moving neither quickly nor slowly, with head bowed,
+and hands hanging loose at His sides, seeming to see none of those
+that went with Him; and it was as though an unseen barrier was round
+about Him which even the more presumptuous of His attendants could
+not pass.
+
+Along Piccadilly, past the shops, past Green Park, the procession
+went, growing larger and larger as it progressed. Persons, wondering
+what was the cause of the to-do, asked questions; then fell in with
+the others, curious to learn what the issue of the affair would be.
+Traffic in the road became congested. Vehicles could not proceed
+above a walking pace, because of the people who hemmed them in. Nor
+did their occupants, or their drivers, seem loath to linger with the
+throng. The police adapted their mood to that of the crowd. They saw
+men and women pouring out of restaurants and public-houses to join
+the Stranger's retinue, and were, for the most part, content to keep
+pace with it, keeping a watchful eye for what might be the possible
+upshot of the singular proceedings.
+
+At Hyde Park Corner the Stranger stopped, and it could then be seen
+to what huge proportions the throng had grown. The whole open space
+was filled with people, and when, with the Stranger's, their advance
+was stayed, pedestrians and vehicles seemed mixed in inextricable
+confusion. Probably the large majority of those present had but the
+faintest notion of what had brought them there. In obedience to a
+sudden impulse of the gregarious instinct they had joined the crowd
+because the crowd was there to join.
+
+As He stopped the Stranger raised His head, and looked about Him. He
+saw how large was the number of the people, and He said, in a voice
+which was only clearly audible to those who stood near:
+
+'It is already late. Is it not time that you should go to your homes
+and rest?'
+
+A man replied; he was a young fellow in evening dress; he had had
+more than enough to drink:
+
+'It's early yet. You don't call this late! The evening's only just
+beginning! We're game to make a night of it if you are. Where you
+lead us we will follow.'
+
+The young man's words were followed by a burst of laughter from some
+of those who heard. The Stranger sighed. Turning towards Hyde Park,
+He moved towards the open gates. The crowd opened to let Him pass,
+then closing in, it followed after. The Stranger entered the silent
+park. Crossing Rotten Row, He led the way to the grassy expanse which
+lay beyond. Not the whole crowd went with Him. The vehicles went
+their several ways, many also of the people. Some stayed, loitering
+and talking over what had happened; so far, that is, as they
+understood. These the police dispersed. Still, those who continued
+with the Stranger were not few.
+
+When He reached the grass the Stranger stopped again. The people,
+gathering closer, surrounded Him, as if expecting Him to speak. But
+He was still. They looked at Him with an eager curiosity. At first He
+did not look at them at all. So that, while with their intrusive
+glances they searched Him, as it were, from head to foot, He stood in
+their midst with bent head and downcast eyes. They talked together,
+some in whispers, and some in louder tones; and there were some who
+laughed, until, at last, a man called out:
+
+'Well, what have you brought us here for? To stand on the grass and
+catch cold?'
+
+The Stranger answered, without raising His eyes from the ground:
+
+'Is it I that have brought you here? Then it is well.'
+
+There was a titter--a woman's giggle rising above the rest. The
+Stranger, raising His head, looked towards where the speaker stood.
+
+'It were well if most of you should die to-night. O people of no
+understanding, that discern the little things and cannot see the
+greater, that have made gods of your bellies, and but minister unto
+your bodies, what profiteth it whether you live or whether you die?
+Neither in heaven nor on earth is there a place for you. What, then,
+is it that you do here?'
+
+A man replied:
+
+'It seems that you are someone in particular. We want to know who you
+are, according to your own statement.'
+
+'I am He on whose name, throughout the whole of this great city, men
+call morning, noon, and night. And yet you do not know Me. No!
+neither do those know Me that call upon Me most.'
+
+'Ever heard of Hanwell?' asked one. 'Perhaps there's some that have
+known you there.'
+
+The questioner was called to order.
+
+'Stow that! Let's know what he's got to say! Let's hear him out!'
+
+The original inquirer continued.
+
+'For what have you come here?'
+
+'For what?' The Stranger looked up towards the skies. 'It is well
+that you should ask. I am as one who has lost his way in a strange
+land, among a strange people; yet it was to Mine own I came, in Mine
+own country.'
+
+There was an interval of silence. When the inquirer spoke again, it
+was in less aggressive tones.
+
+'Sir, there is a music in your voice which seems to go to my heart.'
+
+'Friend!' The Stranger stretched out His hand towards the speaker.
+'Friend! Would that it would go to all your hearts, the music that is
+in Mine--that the sound of it would go forth to all the world! It was
+for that I came.'
+
+This time there was none that answered. It was as though
+there was that in the Stranger's words which troubled His listeners--
+which made them uneasy. Here and there one began to steal away.
+Presently, as the silence continued, the number of these increased.
+Among them was the inquirer; the Stranger spoke to him as he turned
+to go.
+
+'It was but seeming--the music which seemed to speak to your heart?'
+
+Although the words were quietly uttered, they conveyed a sting; the
+man to whom they were addressed was plainly disconcerted.
+
+'Sir, I cannot stay here all night. I am a married man; I must go
+home.'
+
+'Go home.'
+
+'Besides, the gates will soon be shut, and late hours don't agree
+with me; I have to go early to business.'
+
+'Go home.'
+
+'But, at the same time, if you wish me to stop with you--'
+
+'Go home.'
+
+The man slunk away, as if ashamed; the Stranger followed him with His
+eyes. When he had gone a few yards he hesitated, stopped, turned,
+and, when he saw that the Stranger's eyes were fixed on him, he made
+as if to retrace his steps. But the Stranger said:
+
+'Go home.'
+
+Taking the gently spoken words as a positive command, the man, as if
+actuated by an uncontrollable impulse, or by sudden fear, wheeling
+round again upon his heels, ran out of the park as fast as he was
+able. When the man had vanished, the Stranger, looking about Him,
+found that the number of His attendants had dwindled to a scanty few.
+To them He said:
+
+'Why do you stay? Why do you, also, not go home?'
+
+A fellow replied--his coat was buttoned to his chin; his hands were
+in his pockets; a handkerchief was round his neck:
+
+'Well, gov'nor, I reckon it's because some of us ain't got much of a
+'ome to go to. I know I ain't. A seat in 'ere'll be about my mark--
+that is, if the coppers'll let me be.'
+
+Again the Stranger's glance passed round the remnant which remained.
+As the fellow's speech suggested, it was a motley gathering. All
+told, it numbered, perhaps, a dozen--all that was left of the great
+crowd which had been there a moment ago. Three or four were women,
+the rest were men. They stood a little distance off, singly--one here
+and there. As far as could be seen in the uncertain light, all were
+poorly clad, most were in rags--a tatterdemalion crew, the sweepings
+of the streets.
+
+'Are you all homeless, as I am?'
+
+A man replied who was standing among those who were farthest off; he
+spoke as if the question had offended him.
+
+'I ain't 'omeless--no fear! I've got as food a 'ome as anyone need
+want to 'ave; 'm none o' yer outcasts.'
+
+'Then why do you not go to it?'
+
+'Why? I am a-goin', ain't I? I suppose I can go 'ome when I like,
+without none o' your interference!'
+
+The man slouched off, grumbling as he went, his hands thrust deep
+into his trousers pockets, his head sunk between his shoulders. And
+with him the rest of those who were left went too, some of them
+sneaking off across the grass, further into the heart of the park,
+bent nearly double, so as to get as much as possible into the shadow.
+
+The cause of this sudden and general flight was made plain by the
+approach of a policeman, shouting:
+
+'Now, then! Gates going to be closed! Out you go!'
+
+The Stranger asked of him: 'May I not stay here and sleep upon the
+grass?
+
+The policeman laughed, as if he thought the question was a joke.
+
+'Not much you mayn't! Grass is damp--might catch cold--take too much
+care of you for that.'
+
+'Where, then, can I sleep?'
+
+'I don't know where you can sleep. I'm not here to answer questions.
+You go out!
+
+The Stranger began to do as He was bid. As He was going towards the
+gate, a man came hastening to His side; he had been holding himself
+apart, and only now came out of the shadow. He was a little man; his
+eagerness made him breathless.
+
+'Sir, it's not much of a place we've got, my wife and I, but such as
+it is, we shall be glad to give You a night's lodging. I can answer
+for my wife, and the place is clean.'
+
+The Stranger looked at him, and smiled.
+
+'I thank you.'
+
+Together they went out of the park, the new-comer limping, for he was
+lame of one foot, the Stranger walking at his side. And all those
+whom they passed stopped, and turned, and looked at them as they
+went; some of them asking of themselves:
+
+'What is there peculiar about that man?'
+
+For it was as though there had been an unusual quality in the
+atmosphere as He went by.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX
+
+                          THE FIRST DISCIPLE
+
+
+'This,' said the lame man, 'is where I live. My rooms are on the
+first floor. My name is Henry Fenning. I am a shoemaker. My wife
+helps me at my trade. Our son lives with us, he's a little chap, just
+nine, and, like me, he's lame.'
+
+The man had conducted the Stranger to a street opening on to the
+Brompton Road. Even in that uncertain light it could be seen that the
+houses stood in need of repairs; they were of irregular construction,
+small, untidy, old. On the ground floor of the one in which he had
+paused was a shop, a little one; the shop front was four shutters
+wide. One surmised, from the pictures on the wall, that it sold
+sweetstuff and odds and ends. The man's manner was anxious, timid, as
+if, while desirous that his Visitor should take advantage of such
+hospitality as he could offer, he yet wished to inform Him as to the
+kind of place He might expect. The Stranger smiled; there was that in
+His smile which seemed to fill His companion with a singular sense of
+elation.
+
+'It is good of you to give Me what you can.'
+
+The shoemaker laughed gently, as if his laughter was inspired by a
+sudden consciousness of gladness.
+
+'It is good of You to take what I can give.' He opened the door.
+'Wait a moment while I show You a light.' Striking a match, he held
+it above his head. 'Take care how You come in; the boards are rough.'
+The Stranger, entering, followed His host up the narrow stairs, into
+a room on the first floor. 'Mary, I have brought you a Visitor.'
+
+At the utterance of the name the Stranger started.
+
+'Mary!' He exclaimed. 'Blessed are you among women!'
+
+It was a small apartment--work-room, living-room, kitchen, all in
+one. Implements of the shoemaker's trade were here and there; some
+partly finished boots were on a bench at one side. The man's wife was
+seated at a sewing-machine, working; she rose, as her husband
+entered, to give him greeting. She was a rosy-faced woman, of medium
+height, but broadly built, with big brown eyes, about forty years of
+age. She observed the Stranger with wondering looks.
+
+'Sir, I seem to know You.'
+
+And the Stranger said:
+
+'I know you.'
+
+The woman turned to her husband.
+
+'Who is this?'
+
+Her husband replied:
+
+'It is the Welcome Guest. Give Him to eat and to drink, and after, He
+would sleep.'
+
+The woman put some cold meat and cheese and bread upon a small table,
+which she drew into the centre of the floor.
+
+'Sir, this is all I have.'
+
+'I know it.' He took the chair which her husband offered. 'Come and
+sit and eat and drink with Me.'
+
+The man and his wife sat with Him at the table, and they ate and
+drank together. When the meal was finished, He said:
+
+'You are the first that have given Me food. What you have given Me
+shall be given you, and more.'
+
+Presently the shoemaker came to the Stranger.
+
+'Sir, in our bedroom we have only one bed. If You will sleep in it,
+my wife will make up another for us here upon the floor. We shall do
+very well.'
+
+In the bedroom the Stranger saw that a child slept in a little bed
+which was against a wall. The shoemaker explained.
+
+'It is my son. He will not trouble You. He sleeps very sound.'
+
+The Stranger bent over the bed.
+
+'In his sleep he smiles.'
+
+'Yes, he often does. He has happy dreams. And he comes of a smiling
+stock.'
+
+The Stranger turned to the lame man.
+
+'Do you often smile?'
+
+'Yes; why not? God has been very good to me.'
+
+'God is good to all alike.'
+
+'That's what my wife and I say to each other; but it's only the lucky
+ones who know it.'
+
+When the shoemaker and his wife were alone in the living-room
+together, they kissed and gave thanks unto God. For they said:
+
+'This night the Lord is with us. Blessed is the name of the Lord!'
+
+In the morning, when it was full day, the boy woke up and went to the
+bed on which the Stranger lay asleep, crying:
+
+'Father!'
+
+And the Stranger was roused, and saw the boy standing at his side. He
+stretched out His arms to him.
+
+'My son!'
+
+But the boy shrank back.
+
+'You are not my father. Where is my father and my mother?'
+
+'They are in the next room, asleep. They have given Me their bed.
+And, because they have done so, I am your Father too. So in your
+sleep you smiled?'
+
+'Did I? I expect it was because I dreamed that I was happy.'
+
+'Was your happiness but a dream?'
+
+'While I was asleep. Now I am awake I know I'm happy.'
+
+'But you are lame?'
+
+'So's father. I don't mind being lame if father is.'
+
+The Stranger was still. He smiled, and touched the child upon the
+shoulder. And the boy gave a sudden cry. He drew up his night-shirt,
+and looked down at his right leg.
+
+'Why, it's straight!--like the other.' He began to move about the
+room. 'I'm not lame! I'm not lame!' All aglow with excitement, he
+went running through the door. 'Father! mother! my leg's gone
+straight! I can run about like other boys. Look!--I'm no longer
+lame!'
+
+When his mother saw that it was so, she took him into her arms and
+cried:
+
+'My boy! my boy! God be thanked for what He has done to you this
+day!'
+
+When they saw that the Stranger was standing in the doorway the
+father and mother were silent. Their hearts were too full to find
+speech easy. But the boy ran to Him.
+
+'Oh, sir! make father's leg straight like mine!'
+
+The Stranger asked of his father:
+
+'Would you have it so?'
+
+But the lame man answered:
+
+'If it may be, let me stay as I am; for if I had not been lame I
+might never have known Your face.'
+
+To which the Stranger said:
+
+'That is a true saying. For by suffering eyes are opened; so that he
+who endures most sees best. For to all men God gives gifts.'
+
+The woman busied herself in making breakfast ready. When they were at
+table, the lame man said:
+
+'Lord, if You will not stay with us, may we come with You?'
+
+'Nay; you are with Me although you stay. For where My own are, I am.'
+
+'Lord, suffer me to come! Suffer it, Lord!'
+
+'If you will, come, until you find the way too long and the path too
+hard for your feet to travel; for the road by which I go is not an
+easy one.' He turned to the woman. 'Do you come also?'
+
+'If You will, I will stay at home, to make ready against You come
+again.'
+
+He answered:
+
+'You have not chosen the worse part.'
+
+While they had been sitting at breakfast the boy had run out into the
+street, and told first to one and then to another how, with a touch,
+a wonderful Stranger had straightened his leg, so that he was no
+longer lame. And, since they could see for themselves that he was
+healed of his lameness, the tale was quickly noised about; so that
+when the Stranger came out of the shoemaker's house, He found that a
+number of people awaited Him without. A woman came pushing through
+the crowd, bearing a crooked child in her arms.
+
+'Heal my son also! Make him straight like the other!'
+
+And being moved by pity for the child, He touched him, so that he
+sprang from his mother's arms, and stood before them whole. And all
+the people were amazed, saying:
+
+'What manner of man is this, that makes the lame to walk with a
+touch?'
+
+So when He came out into the Brompton Road He was already attended by
+a crowd, some crying:
+
+'This is the man who works miracles!'
+
+Others:
+
+'Bring out your sick!'
+
+With each step He took the crowd increased, so that when He came to
+the narrow part of Knightsbridge the street became choked and the
+traffic blocked. The people, because there were so many, pressed
+against Him so that He could not move, and there began to be danger
+of a riot.
+
+The lame man, who found it difficult to keep close to His side, said
+to Him:
+
+'Lord, if You do not send them from us we shall be hurt.'
+
+But He replied:
+
+'It is to these I have come, although they know it not. If I send
+them from us, why did I come?'
+
+When they reached that portion of the road where it grows wider in
+front of the park, the pressure became less. But still the crowd
+increased.
+
+'He goes to the hospital,' they cry, 'to heal the sick with a touch.'
+
+And some ran on to St. George's Hospital, and pushed past the porters
+up the stairs and into the wards, and began to lift the sick out of
+their beds. And those who could walk, being persuaded by them that
+had run on, went out into the streets. So that when He came, He found
+awaiting Him a strange collection of the sick, who were ill of all
+manner of diseases. And the people cried:
+
+'Heal them!--heal them with a touch!'
+
+But He replied:
+
+'What is it you ask of Me? I came not to heal the sick, but to call
+sinners to repentance.'
+
+They cried the more:
+
+'Heal them!--heal them with a touch!'
+
+'If I heal them, what then? Of what shall they be healed? Of what
+avail to heal the body if the spirit continues sick?'
+
+But they persisted in their exclamations. While still they pressed on
+Him, an inspector of police edged his way through the crowd.
+
+'I don't know who you are, sir, but you are doing a very dangerous
+thing in causing these people to behave like this.'
+
+'Suffer Me first to do as they ask.'
+
+He stretched out His hand and touched those that were sick, so that
+they were whole. But when they came to look for Him who had done them
+this service, behold He was gone. And the lame man had gone with Him.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER X
+
+                            THE DEPUTATION
+
+
+He came, with His disciple to a gate which led into a field, through
+which there ran a stream. It was high noon. He entered the gate, and
+sat beside the stream. And the lame man sat near by. The Stranger
+watched the water as it plashed over the stones on its race to the
+mill. When presently He sighed, the lame man said:
+
+'I have money; there is a village close handy. Let me go and buy
+food, and bring it to you here.'
+
+But He answered:
+
+'We shall not want for food. There is one who comes to offer it to us
+now.'
+
+Even as He spoke a carriage drew up in the road on the other side of
+the hedge. A lady, standing up in it, looked through a pair of
+glasses into the field. Bidding the footman open the carriage-door,
+alighting, she came through the gate to where He sat with His
+disciple beside the stream. She was a woman of about forty years of
+age, very richly dressed. As she walked, with her skirts held well
+away from the grass, she continued to stare through the glasses,
+which were attached to a long gold handle. Looking from one to the
+other, her glance rested, on the Stranger.
+
+I Are you the person of whom such extraordinary stories are being
+told? You look it--you must be--you are. George Horley just told me
+he saw you on the Shaldon Road. I don't know how he knew it was you--
+and his manner was most extraordinary--but he's a sharp fellow, and I
+shouldn't be surprised if he was right. Tell me, are you that
+person?'
+
+'I am He that you know not of.'
+
+'My dear sir, that doesn't matter one iota. What I've heard of you is
+sufficient introduction for me. I don't know if you're aware that
+this field is mine, and that you're trespassing. I'm very particular
+about not allowing the villagers to come in here--they will go after
+the mushrooms. But if you'll take a seat in my carriage I shall be
+very happy to put you up for a day or two. I'm Mrs. Montara, of Weir
+Park. I have some very delightful people staying with me, who will be
+of the greatest service to you in what I understand is your
+propaganda. Most interesting what I've heard of you, I'm sure.' The
+Stranger was silent. 'Well, will you come?'
+
+'Woman, return to your own place. Leave Me in peace.'
+
+'I don't admire your manners, my good man, especially after my going
+out of my way to be civil to you. Is that all the answer you have to
+give?'
+
+'What have I to do with you, or you with Me? I am not that new thing
+which you seek. I am of old.'
+
+He looked at her. The great lady shrank back a little, as if abashed.
+
+'Whoever you are, I shall be glad to have you as my guest.'
+
+'I am not found in rich women's houses. They are too poor. They offer
+nothing. They seek only to obtain.'
+
+'I offer you, in the way of hospitality, whatever you may want.'
+
+'You cannot offer Me the one thing which I desire.'
+
+'What is that?'
+
+'That you should know Me even as you are known. For unless you know
+Me I have nothing, and less than nothing, and there is nothing in the
+world that is at all to be desired. For if I have come unto Mine own,
+and they know Me not, then My coming indeed is vain. Go! Strip
+yourself and your house, and be ashamed. In the hour of your shame
+come to Me again.'
+
+'If that's the way you talk to me, get up and leave my field, before
+I have you locked up for trespass.'
+
+He stood up, and said to the lame man:
+
+'Come!'
+
+And they went out of the field, and passed through that place without
+staying to eat or drink. In the next village an old woman, who was
+standing at a cottage gate, stopped them as they were passing on.
+
+'You are tired. Come in and rest.'
+
+And they entered into her house. And she gave them food, refusing the
+money which the lame man offered.
+
+'I have a spare bedroom. You can have it if you'd like to stay the
+night, and you'll be kindly welcome.'
+
+So they stayed with her that night.
+
+And in the morning, while it was yet early, they arose and went upon
+their way. And when they had gone some distance they heard on the
+road behind them the sound of a horse's hoofs. And when they turned,
+they saw that a wagonette was being driven hotly towards them. When,
+on reaching them, it stopped, they saw that it contained five men.
+One, leaning over the side, said to the Stranger:
+
+'Are you he we are looking for?'
+The Stranger replied:
+
+'I am He whom you seek.'
+
+'That is,' added a second man, 'you are the individual who is stated
+to have been performing miracles in London?'
+
+The Stranger only said:
+
+'I am He whom you seek.'
+
+'In that case,' declared the first speaker, 'we are very fortunate.'
+
+He scrambled out on to the road, a short, burly man, with restless
+bright eyes and an iron-gray beard. He wore a soft, round, black felt
+hat, and was untidily dressed. He seemed to be in perpetual movement,
+in striking contrast to the Stranger's immutable calm.
+
+'Will you come with us in the wagonette?' he demanded. 'Or shall
+we say what we have to say to you here? It is early; we're in the
+heart of the country; no one seems about. If we cross the stile
+which seems to lead into that little copse, we could have no better
+audience-chamber, and need fear no interruption.'
+
+'Say what you have to say to Me here.'
+
+'Good! Then, to begin with, we'll introduce ourselves.'
+
+His four companions were following each other out of the wagonette.
+As they descended he introduced each one in turn.
+
+'This is Professor Wilcox Wilson, the pathologist. Professor Wilson
+does not, however, confine himself to one subject, but is interested
+in all live questions of the day; and, while he keeps an open mind,
+seeks to probe into the why and wherefore of all varieties of
+phenomena. This is the Rev. Martin Philipps, the eminent preacher and
+divine, who joins to a liberal theology a far-reaching interest in
+the cause of suffering humanity. Augustus Jebb, perhaps the greatest
+living authority on questions of social science and the welfare of
+the wage-earning classes. John Anthony Gibbs, who may be said to
+represent the religious conscience of England in the present House of
+Commons. I myself am Walter S. Treadman, journalist, student,
+preacher, and, I hope, humanitarian. I only know that where there is
+a cry of pain, there my heart is. I heard that you were in this
+neighbourhood, and lost no time in requesting these gentlemen to
+associate themselves with me in the appeal which I am about to make
+to you. Therefore I beg of you to regard me as, in a sense, a
+deputation from England. Your answer will be given to England. And on
+that account, if no other, we implore you to weigh, with the utmost
+care, any words which you may utter. To come to the point: Do we
+understand you to assert that the feats with which you have set all
+London agape are, in the exact sense of the word, miraculous--that
+is, incapable of a natural interpretation?'
+
+'Why do you speak such words to Me?'
+
+'For an obvious reason. England is at heart religious. Though, for
+the moment, she may seem torpid, it needs but a breath to fan the
+smouldering embers into a mighty blaze which will light the world,
+and herald in the brightness of the eternal dawn. If these things
+which you have done are of God, then you must be of Him, and from
+Him, and may be the bearer of a message to the myriads whose ears are
+strained to listen. Therefore I implore you to answer.'
+
+'What I have done, I have done not as a sign, nor to be magnified in
+the eyes of men, but to dry the tears which were in their eyes.'
+
+'Then they were miracles. So the question at once assumes another
+phase--Who are you?'
+
+'I am He whom you know not of, though you call often on My name.'
+
+'You are the Christ--the Lord Christ?'
+
+Professor Wilson laid his hand on Mr. Treadman's arm.
+
+'You go too fast. No such assertion has been made; no such claim has
+been put forth. I may add that there has been no such outrage on good
+taste.'
+
+The Rev. Martin Philipps interposed.
+
+'Good taste is not necessarily outraged by such a claim; or, if it is
+now, it was also at the first. Jesus was a man, such as we are, such
+as this one here.'
+
+Mr. Jebb agreed.
+
+'And a labouring man at that. He worked with His own hands--a
+wage-earner if ever there was one.'
+
+'But,' pleaded the Professor, 'at least something was known of His
+pedigree, of His credentials.'
+
+'I am not so sure of that.'
+
+'Nor I.'
+
+'At any rate, let us proceed as if we were reasonable beings, and
+actuated by the dictates of common-sense. Permit me to put one or two
+questions: Are you an Englishman?'
+
+'I am of a country which also you know not of. Thither I return to
+meet Mine own.'
+
+'Your answer is evasive. Allow me to point out, with the greatest
+possible deference, that it is on record how Jesus originally damaged
+His own case by the vagueness of the replies which He gave to
+questions and the want of lucidity which characterised His
+description of Himself. If you claim any, even the remotest,
+connection with Him, let me advise you to avoid His errors.'
+
+'You know not what you say, you fool of wisdom!'
+
+'Lord,' cried Mr. Treadman,' I believe--help Thou my unbelief! I
+believe because faith is the great want of the age, and it shall
+remove mountains; I believe because belief is like the pinch of yeast
+which, being dropped into the dough, leavens the whole. The leaven
+spreads through the whole body politic, so that out of a little thing
+proceeds a great. And, Lord, suffer Thy servant to entreat with Thee.
+Lose no time. Thy people wait--have waited long; they cry aloud; they
+look always for the little speck upon the sky; they lift up their
+hands and beat against heaven's gates. Speak but the word--the one
+word which Thou canst speak so easily! A whole world will leap into
+Thy arms.'
+
+'Their will, not mine, be done?'
+
+'Nay, Lord, not so--not so! Esteem me not guilty of such presumption;
+but I have lived among them, and have seen how the world labours and
+is in pain, and how Thy people are crushed beneath heavy burdens
+which press them down almost to the confines of the pit. And
+therefore out of the fulness and anguish of my knowledge I cry: Lord,
+come quickly--come quickly! Lose not a moment's time!'
+
+'Your knowledge is greater than Mine?'
+
+'Nay, Lord, I do not say that, nor think it. But Thou art immortal;
+Thy children are mortal--very mortal. I understand the agony of
+longing with which they look for Your presence--Your very presence--
+in their midst.'
+
+'They that know Me know that I am ever with them. They that do not
+know Me know not that they see Me before their eyes.'
+
+'You speak in a spiritual sense, I in a material. I know with what a
+passionate yearning they desire to see you with their mortal eyes,
+flesh of their flesh, bone of their bone--a man like unto
+themselves.'
+
+'You also seek a sign?'
+
+'Who does not seek a sign? The soldier watches for the sign which
+shows that his general is in command; the child looks for the sign
+which proclaims his parent is at hand; the explorer searches for the
+sign which shows his guide is leading him aright. There is chaos
+where there is no sign.'
+
+'Did I not say I am He you know not of? Those who know Me need no
+sign.'
+
+'Nor, in that sense, do I need one either. I have been unfortunate in
+my choice of words if I have conveyed the impression that I do.'
+
+'I have suffered you too much.' He turned to the lame man. 'Come!'
+
+The Stranger and His disciple were continuing on their way when Mr.
+Treadman's companions placed themselves in the path.
+
+'Mr. Treadman's well-known command of language,' explained the
+Professor, 'is likely to obscure the purpose of our presence here. We
+have come to ask you to accompany us to town as our guest, and to
+avail yourself of our services in placing, in the most efficient and
+practical manner possible, your views and wishes before the country
+as a whole.'
+
+'In other words,' observed the Rev. Martin Philipps, 'we are here as
+the Lord's servants, desirous to do His work and His will.'
+
+'Having at heart,' continued Mr. Jebb, 'the welfare--spiritual,
+moral, and physical--of the struggling millions.'
+
+'Acting also,' added Mr. Gibbs, 'as the mouthpiece of Christ's
+kingdom as it exists in our native land.'
+
+The Professor's tone, as he commented on his colleagues' remarks, was
+a little grim.
+
+'What my friends say is, no doubt, very excellent in its way; but the
+main point still is--Will you come with us? If so, here is a
+conveyance. You have only to jump in at once, and we shall be in time
+to catch a fast train back to town. My strong advice to you is, Be
+practical, and come.'
+
+'Suffer Me to go My way.'
+
+'Is that your answer? Remember that history records how, on a
+previous occasion, a great opportunity was frittered away for lack of
+a little business acumen. There can be no doubt that the great need
+of the hour is a practical religion. It is quite within the range of
+possibility that you might go far towards placing such a propaganda
+on a solid basis. Consider, therefore; before you treat our offer
+with contempt.'
+
+He made no answer, but went along the road, with the lame man at His
+side.
+
+For some seconds the deputation stood staring after Him. Then the
+Professor gave expression to his feelings in these words:
+
+'An impracticable person.'
+
+The Rev. Martin Philipps had something to say on this curt summing up
+of the position.
+
+'I think, Professor, that what you call practicality is likely to be
+your stumbling-block. In your sense, God is not always practical.'
+
+'In a country of practical men that is unfortunate.'
+
+'When you say practical you mean material. There is something higher
+than materiality.'
+
+'The material and the spiritual, Philipps, are more closely allied
+than you may suppose. It is useless to ask a mere man to give primary
+attention to his spiritual wants when, in a material sense, he lacks
+everything. To formulate such a demand, even by inference, is to play
+into the hands of the plutocracy.'
+
+'Still,' remarked Mr. Gibbs,' I think there might have been more said
+of the things of the soul, and less of the things of the body. It is
+the soul of England we are here to plead for, not its mere corporeal
+husk.'
+
+While they talked Mr. Treadman stood looking after the retreating
+Stranger. Suddenly he started running, calling as he went:
+
+'Lord, Lord, suffer that I may come with You!'
+
+He went on, with the lame man at His side, and Mr. Treadman at His
+heels, calling persistently: 'Suffer that I may come with You!' until
+presently He turned, saying:
+
+'Why do you continue to entreat that I should suffer you? Have I
+forbidden you to come?'
+
+For a time Mr. Treadman was still. But continually he broke again
+into speech, talking of this thing and of that.
+
+But there was none that answered him.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI
+
+                         THE SECOND DISCIPLE
+
+
+They lay that night at the house of a certain curate, who stopped the
+Stranger, saying:
+
+'You are he of whom I have heard?'
+
+Mr. Treadman said:
+
+'It is the Lord--the Lord Christ! He has come again!'
+
+The Stranger rebuked Mr. Treadman.
+
+'Peace! Why do you trouble Me with your babbling tongue?' To the
+curate He said: 'What do you want of Me?'
+
+'Nothing but to offer you shelter for the night. I cannot give you
+much, for I am poor, and have a small house and a large family, but
+such as I have is at your service. Not that I wish you to understand
+that my action marks my approval of your proceedings, of which, as I
+say, I have heard. For I am an ordained priest of the Church of
+England, and have sufficient trouble with dissent and such-like fads
+already. But I am a Christian, and, I trust, a gentleman, and in that
+dual capacity would not wish one of whom I have heard such remarkable
+things to remain in need of shelter when near my house.'
+
+So they went with the curate. But the family was found to be so
+large, and the house so small, that there was not room within its
+walls for three unexpected guests. So it was arranged that they would
+sleep in the loft over the stable where hay was kept. Thither, after
+supper, the Stranger and the lame man repaired. But Mr. Treadman
+remained talking to the host.
+
+They stood outside the house in the moonlight, looking towards the
+loft in which the Stranger sought slumber.
+
+'That is a good man,' said the curate, 'and a strange one. He has
+filled my mind with curious thoughts.'
+
+'It is the Lord! said Mr. Treadman.
+
+'The Lord?' The curate regarded the speaker with a peculiar smile.
+'Are you mad, sir? Or do you think I am?'
+
+'It is the Lord!' Mr. Treadman held out his clenched fists in front
+of him, as if to add weight to his assertion. 'I know it of a
+surety!'
+
+'Does it not occur to you what an awful thing it would be if what you
+say were true?' Awful? How awful?'
+
+'When He came before He found them unprepared--so unprepared that
+they could not believe it was He. What would it not mean if, at His
+Second Coming, He found us still unready? He might be moving among
+us, and we not know it; we might meet Him in the street, and pass Him
+by. The human mind is not at its best when it is wholly unprepared:
+it cannot twist itself hither and thither without even a moment's
+notice. And our civilisation is so complex that the first result of
+an unexpected Advent would be to plunge it into chaos. Saints and
+sinners alike would be thrown off their balance. There would be a
+carnival of confusion. The tragedy which rings down the ages might be
+re-enacted. Christ might be crucified again by Christian hands.'
+
+'We must avoid it! We must avoid it! We must prepare the people's
+minds; we must let them know that His reign is about to begin. They
+need but the knowledge to fill the world with songs of gladness.'
+
+'You really believe your friend is a supernatural being?'
+
+'It is the Lord! I know it of a surety! You call yourself His
+minister. Is it possible you do not know Him, too?'
+
+'No; I do not. For one thing, I do not think that, really and truly,
+I have ever contemplated the possibility of such an occurrence. To me
+the Second Coming has been an abstraction--a nebulous something that
+would not happen in my time. Yet he troubles me, the more so since I
+remember that good men must have stood in His presence aforetime, and
+yet not have known Him for what He was, although He troubled them.
+However, it may be written to the good of my account that for your
+friend I have done what I could.'
+
+The curate returned into his house. But it was long before Mr.
+Treadman sought the shelter of the loft. He passed here and there in
+an agony of mind which grew greater as the night went on. By the
+light of the waning moon he wrought himself into a frenzy of
+supplication.
+
+'O Lord, I say it in no spirit of irreverence, but in a sense, You do
+not understand the idiosyncrasies and character of those to whom You
+are about to appeal. To come to them unheralded, to move about among
+them unannounced, will be useless--ah, and worse than useless! O
+Lord, do not take them by surprise. Sound, at least, one trumpet
+blast. Come to them as You should come--as their Christ and King. It
+needs such a very little, and You will have them at Your feet. Do not
+lose all for want of such a little. Let me tell them You are on the
+way, that You are here, that You are in their very midst. Let me be
+John Baptist. I promise You that I shall not be a voice crying in the
+wilderness, but that at the proclamation of the tidings, trumpeted by
+all the presses of the land, and from ten thousand pulpits, from all
+the cities and the villages will issue happy, hot-footed crowds,
+eager to look upon the face they have had pictured in their hearts
+their whole lives long, and on the form they have yearned to see,
+filled with but one desire--to lay themselves at the feet of their
+Christ and King! But, Lord, if no one tells them You are here, how
+shall they know it? They are but foolish folk, fashioned as Thou
+knowest they are fashioned. If You come upon them at the market or
+the meeting, and take them unawares, they will not know that it is
+You. Suffer me first to spread the glad tidings through all the land.
+I have but to put a plain statement on the wires, and foot it with my
+name, and there is not a newspaper in an English-speaking country
+which will not give it a prominent place in its morning's issue.
+Suffer me at least to do so much as that.'
+
+The figure of the Stranger appeared at the door which led into the
+loft; and He spoke to Mr. Treadman, saying:
+
+'You know not what are the things of which you speak, as is the
+manner of men. Are you, then, so ignorant as not to be aware that
+God's ways are not as men's? Let your soul cease from troubling. God
+asks not to learn of you. He made you; He holds you in the hollow of
+His hand; you are the dust of the balance. Come, and sleep.'
+
+Mr. Treadman went up into the loft, crying like a child. Almost as
+soon as he laid himself down among the sweetness of the hay his tears
+were dried, and his eyes were closed in slumber. And he and the lame
+man slept together.
+
+But the Stranger sought not sleep. Through the night He did not close
+His eyes. As the day came near He stood looking down upon the
+sleepers. And His face was sorrowful.
+
+'Men are but little children: if they had but the heart of a child!'
+
+And He went down the loft out into the morning.
+
+And presently the lame man woke up and found that he was alone with
+Mr. Treadman. So he began to scramble down the ladder. As he went,
+because of his haste and his lameness, he stumbled and fell. The
+noise of his fall woke Mr. Treadman, who hurried down the ladder
+also. At the foot he found the lame man, who was rising to his feet.
+
+'Are you hurt?' he asked.
+
+'I think not. I am only shaken. The Lord has gone!'
+
+'Gone! Lean on me. We will find Him.'
+
+The two went out into the lifting shadows, the lame man on Mr.
+Treadman's arm. The country was covered by a morning mist. It was
+damp and cold. The light was puzzling. Mr. Treadman looked to the
+right and left.
+
+'Which way can He have gone?'
+
+'There! there He is! I see Him on the road. My leg is better; let us
+hasten. We shall catch Him.'
+
+'No. Do not let us catch Him. Let us follow and see which way He
+goes. I have a reason.'
+
+'But He will know you are following, and your reason.'
+
+'May be. Still let us follow.'
+
+Mr. Treadman had his way. They followed at a distance. As was his
+habit, Mr. Treadman talked as he went.
+
+'It is strange that He should try to leave us like this, when He
+knows that we would leave no stone unturned to follow Him, through
+life, to death.'
+
+'It is not strange. He does nothing strange.'
+
+'You think not?'
+
+'How can the Lord of all the earth do wrong?'
+
+'There is something in that.' Mr. Treadman was still for a time. 'Yet
+He runs a great risk of wrecking His entire cause.' The lame man said
+nothing. 'It is necessary that the people should be told that He is
+coming, that their minds should be prepared. If they have authentic
+information of His near neighbourhood, then He will triumph at once
+and for always. If not--if He comes on them informally, unheralded,
+unannounced, then there will be a frightful peril of His cause being
+again dragged in the mire.'
+
+Yet the lame man said nothing. But Mr. Treadman continued to talk,
+apparently careless of the fact that he had the conversation to
+himself.
+
+When they came to a place where there were cross-roads, and Mr.
+Treadman saw which way He went, he caught the lame man by the arm.
+
+'I thought as much! He's heading for London.'
+
+Taking out a note-book, he began to write in it with a fountain pen,
+still continuing to walk and to talk.
+
+'I know this country well. There's a telegraph-office about a mile
+along the road. It ought to be open by the time we get there. If it
+isn't, I'll rouse them up. I'll send word to some friends of mine--
+men and women whose lifelong watchword has been God and His gospel--
+that He is coming. They will run to meet Him. They will bring with
+them some of the brightest spirits now living; and He will have a
+foretaste of that triumph which, if matters are properly organised,
+awaits Him. He shall enter on His inheritance as the Christ and King,
+and pain, sin, sorrow, shall cease throughout the world, if He will
+but suffer me to make clear the way. Tell me, my friend,--you don't
+appear to be a loquacious soul,--don't you think that to be prepared
+is half the battle?'
+
+But the lame man made no reply. He only kept his eyes fixed on the
+Figure which went in front.
+
+His companion's irresponsive mood did not appear to trouble Mr.
+Treadman. He never ceased to talk and write, except when he broke
+into the words of a hymn, which he sung in a loud, clear voice, as if
+he wished that all the country-side should hear.
+
+'There,' he cried, after they had gone some distance, 'is the place I
+told you of. The village is just round the bend in the road. If I
+remember rightly, the post-office is on the left as you enter. Soon
+the telegraph shall be on the side of the Lord, and the glad tidings
+be flashing up to town. We're not twenty miles from London. Within an
+hour a reception committee should be on the way. Before noon many
+longing eyes will have looked with knowledge on the face of the Lord;
+and joyful hearts shall sing: "Hosanna in the highest! Hallelujah!
+Christ has come!"'
+
+On their coming to the village Mr. Treadman made haste to the
+post-office. It was not yet open. He began a violent knocking at the
+door.
+
+'I must rouse them up. Official hours are as nothing in such a case
+as this. I must get my messages upon the wires at once, whatever it
+may cost.'
+
+The lame man made all haste to reach the Stranger that went in front,
+passing alone through the quiet village street.
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 II
+
+                       The Tumult which Arose
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XII
+
+                         THE CHARCOAL-BURNER
+
+
+When Mr. Treadman had brought the post-office to a consciousness of
+his presence, and induced the postmaster, with the aid of copious
+bribes, to do what he desired, some time had passed. On his return
+into the street neither the Stranger nor the lame man was in sight.
+At this, however, he was little concerned, making sure of the way
+they had gone, and of his ability to catch them up. But after he had
+gone some distance, at the top of his speed, and still saw no sign of
+the One he sought, he began to be troubled.
+
+'They might have waited. The Lord knew that I was engaged upon His
+work. Why has He thus left me in the lurch?'
+
+A cart approached. He hailed the driver.
+
+'Have you seen, as you came along, two persons walking along the road
+towards London?'
+
+'Ay; about half a mile ahead.'
+
+'Half a mile! So much as that! I shall never catch them if I walk.
+You will have to give me a lift, and make all haste after them.'
+
+He began to bargain with the driver, who, agreeing to his terms,
+permitted him to climb into his cart, and turning his horse's head,
+set off after those of whom he had spoken. But they were nowhere to
+be seen.
+
+'It was here I passed them.'
+
+'Probably they are a little further on. Drive more quickly. We shall
+see them in a minute. The winding road hides them, and the hedges.'
+
+The driver did as he was bid. But though he went on and on, he saw
+nothing of those whom he was seeking. Mr. Treadman began to be
+alarmed.
+
+'It is a most extraordinary thing. Where can He have got to? Is it
+possible that that lame fellow can have told Him of the message I was
+sending, and that He has purposely given me the slip? If so, I shall
+be placed in an embarrassing position. These people are sure to come.
+Mrs. Powell and Gifford will be off in an instant. They have been
+looking for the Lord too long not to make all haste to see Him now.
+For all I know, they may bring half London with them. If they find
+they have come for nothing, the situation will be awkward. My
+reputation will be damaged. I ask it with all possible reverence, but
+why is the Lord so little mindful of His own?'
+
+The driver stopped his horse.
+
+'You must get out here. I must go back. I'll be late as it is.'
+
+'Go back! My man, you must press forward. It is for the Lord that I
+am looking.'
+
+'The Lord!'
+
+'The Lord Christ. He has come to us again, this time to win the world
+as a whole, and for ever; and by some frightful accident I have
+allowed Him to pass out of my sight.'
+
+'I've heard tell of something of the kind. But I don't take no count
+of such things. There's some as does; but I'm not one. I tell you you
+must get out. I'm more than late enough already.'
+
+Left stranded in the middle of the road, Mr. Treadman stared after
+the retreating carter.
+
+'The man has no spiritual side; he's a mere brute! In this age of
+Christianity and its attendant civilisation, it's wonderful that such
+creatures should continue to exist. If there are many such, it is a
+hard task which He has set before Him. He will need all the help
+which we can give. Why, then, does he seem to slight the efforts of
+His faithful servant? I don't know what will happen if those people
+find that they have come from town for nothing. His cause may receive
+an almost irreparable injury at the very start.'
+
+Those people came. The messages with which he troubled the wires were
+of a nature to induce them to come. There was Mrs. Miriam Powell,
+whose domestic unhappiness has not prevented her from doing such good
+work among fallen women, that it is surprising how their numbers
+still continue to increase. And there was Harvey Gifford, the founder
+of that Christian Assistance Society which has done such incalculable
+service in providing cheap entertainments for the people, and which
+ceaselessly sends to the chief Continental pleasure resorts hordes of
+persons, in the form of popular excursions, whose manners and customs
+are hardly such as are even popularly associated with Christianity.
+When these two Christian workers received Mr. Treadman's telegram,
+phrased in the quaint Post-Office fashion--'Christ is coming to
+London the Christ I have seen him and am with him and I know he is
+here walking on the highroad come to him and let your eyes be
+gladdened meet him if possible between Guildford and Ripley I will
+endeavour to induce him to come that way about eleven spread the glad
+tidings so that he enters London as one that comes into his own this
+is the Lord's doing this is the day of the Lord we triumph all along
+the line the stories told of his miracles are altogether inadequate
+state that positively to all inquirers as from me no more can be said
+within the limits of a telegram for your soul's sake fail not to be
+on the Ripley road in time the faithful servant of the Lord--
+Treadman'--their minds were made up on the instant. London was
+ringing with inchoate rumours. Scarcely within living memory had the
+public mind been in a state of more curious agitation. The truth or
+falsehood of the various statements which were made was the subject
+of general controversy. Where two or three were gathered together,
+there was discussed the topic of the hour. It seemed, from Treadman's
+telegram, that he of whom the tales were told was coming back in
+town, which he had quitted in such mysterious fashion. It seemed that
+Treadman himself actually believed he was the Christ.
+
+Could two such single-minded souls, in the face of such a message,
+delay from making all haste in the direction of the Ripley road?
+
+Yet before they went, and as they went, they did their best to spread
+the tidings. Mr. Treadman had done his best to spread them too. He
+had sent messages to heads of the Salvation and Church Armies, and of
+the various great religious societies, to ministers of all degrees
+and denominations, and, indeed, to everyone of whom, in his haste, he
+could think as being, in a religious or philanthropic, or, in short,
+in any sense, in that curious place--the public eye.
+
+And presently various specimens of these persons were on their way to
+the Ripley road--some journeying by train, some on foot, some on
+horseback; a large number, both men and women, upon bicycles, and
+others in as heterogeneous a collection of vehicles as one might wish
+to see. Sundry battalions of the Salvation Army confided themselves
+to vans such as are used for beanfeasts and Sunday-School treats.
+They shouted hymns; their bands made music by the way.
+
+He whom all these people were coming out to see had gone with the
+lame man across a field-path to a little wood, which lay not far from
+the road. In the centre of the wood they found a clearing, where the
+charcoal-burners had built their huts and plied their trade. An old
+man watched the smouldering heap. He sat on some billets of wood, one
+of which he was carving with a clumsy knife. The Stranger found a
+seat upon another heap, and the lame man placed himself, cobbler
+fashion, upon the turf at His side. For some moments nothing was
+said. Then the old man broke the silence.
+
+'Strangers hereabouts?'
+
+He replied:
+
+'My abiding-place is not here.'
+
+'So I thought. I fancied I hadn't seen you round about these parts;
+yet there's something about you I seem to know. Come in here to
+rest?'
+
+'It is good to rest.'
+
+'That's so; there's nothing like it when you're tired. You look as if
+you was tired, and you look as if you'd known trouble. There's a
+comfortable look upon your face which never comes upon a man or
+woman's face unless they have known trouble. I always says that no
+one's any good until it shines out of their eyes.'
+
+'Sorrow and joy walk hand in hand.'
+
+'That's it: they walk hand in hand, and you never know one till
+you've known the other, just as you never know what health is till
+you've had to go without it. Do you see what I'm doing here? I'm a
+charcoal-burner by trade, but by rights I ought to have been a
+wood-carver. There's few men can do more with a knife and a bit of
+wood than I can. All them as knows me knows it. That's a cross I'm
+carving. My daughter's turned religious, and she's a fancy that I
+should cut her a cross to hang in her room, so that, as she says, she
+can always think of Christ crucified. To me that's a queer start. I
+always think of Him as Christ crowned.'
+
+'He is crowned.'
+
+'Of course He is. As I put it, what He done earned Him the V.C. It's
+with that cross upon His breast I like to think of Him. In what He
+done I can't see what people see to groan about. It was something to
+glory in, to be proud of.'
+
+'He was crucified by those to whom He came.'
+
+'There is that. They must have been a silly lot, them Jews. They
+didn't know what they was doing of.'
+
+'Which man knows what he does, or will let God know, either?'
+
+'It's a sure and certain thing that some of us ain't over and above
+wise. There do be a good many fools about. I mind that I said to my
+daughter a good score times: "Don't you have that Jim Bates." But she
+would. Now he's took himself off and she's took to religion. It's a
+true fact she didn't know what she was doing of when she had him.'
+
+'Did Jim Bates know what he was doing?'
+
+'I shouldn't be surprised but what he didn't. He never did know much,
+did Jim. It isn't everyone as can live with my daughter, as he had
+ought to have known. She's kept house for me these twelve year, so I
+do know. She always were a contrary piece, she were.'
+
+'The world is full of discords, but He who plays upon it tunes one
+note after another. In the end it will be all in tune.'
+
+'There's a good many of us as'll wish that we was deaf before that
+time comes.'
+
+'Because many men are deaf they take no heed of the harmonies.'
+
+'There's something in that. I shouldn't wonder but what there's a lot
+of music as no one notices. The more you speak, the more I seem to
+know you. You're like a voice I've heard talking to me when the
+speaker was hid by the darkness.'
+
+'I have spoken to you often.'
+
+'Ay, I believe you have. I thought I knew you from the first. I felt
+so comfortable when you came. All the morning I've been troubled,
+what with worries at home and the pains what seems all over me, so
+that I can't move about as I did use to; and then when I saw you
+coming along the path all the trouble was at an end.'
+
+'I heard you calling as I passed along the road.'
+
+'You heard me calling? Why, I never opened my mouth!'
+
+'Not the words of the lips are heard in heaven, but none ever called
+from his heart in vain.'
+
+The charcoal-burner rose from his heap of billets.
+
+'Why, who are you?' He came closer, peering with his dim eyes. 'It is
+the Lord! What an old fool I am not to have known You from the first!
+Yet I felt that it was You.'
+
+'You know Me, although you knew Me not.'
+
+'And me that's known You all my life, and my old woman what knew You
+too! Anyhow, I'd have seen You before long.'
+
+'You have seen Me from the first.'
+
+'Not plain--not plain. I've heard You, and I've known that You was
+there, but I haven't seen You as I've tried to. You know the sort of
+chap I am--a silly old fool what's been burning since I was a little
+nipper. I ain't no scholar. The likes of me didn't have no schooling
+when I was young, and I ain't no hand at words; but You know how I'm
+all of a twitter, and there ain't no words what will tell how glad I
+am to see You. Like the silly old jackass that I am, I'm a-cryin'!'
+
+The Stranger stood up, holding out His hand.
+
+'Friend!'
+
+The charcoal-burner put his gnarled, knotted, and now trembling hand
+into the Stranger's palm.
+
+'Lord! Lord!'
+
+'So often I have heard you call upon My Name.'
+
+'Ay, in the morning when the day was young; at noon, when the work
+was heavy; at night, when rest had come. Youth and man, You've been
+with me all the time, and with my old woman, too.'
+
+'She and I met long since.'
+
+'My old woman! She was a good one to me, she was.'
+
+'And to Me.'
+
+'A better wife no man could have. It weren't all lavender, her life
+wasn't, but it smelt just as sweet as if it were.'
+
+'The perfume of it ascended into heaven.'
+
+'My temper, it be short. There were days when I was sharp with her.
+She'd wait till it was over, and me ashamed, and then she'd say:
+"Each time, William, you be in a passion it do bring you nearer to
+the Lord." I'd ask her how she made that out, and she'd say: "'Tis
+like a bit of 'lastic, William. When you pulls it the ends get drawed
+apart, but when you lets it go again, the ends come closer than they
+was before. When you be in a passion, William, you draws yourself
+away from the Lord's end; when your passion be over, back you goes
+with a rush, until you meets Him plump. Only," she'd say, "don't you
+draw away too often, lest the 'lastic break." I never could tell if
+she were laughing at me, or if she weren't. But I do know she did
+make me feel terrible ashamed. I used to wonder if the Lord's temper
+ever did go short.'
+
+'The Lord is like unto men--He knows both grief and anger.'
+
+'Seems to me as how He wouldn't be the Lord if He didn't. He feels
+what we feels, or how'd He be able to help us?'
+
+'The Lord and His children are of one family. Did you not know that?'
+
+'I knowed it. But there's them as thinks the Lord's a fine gentleman,
+what's always a-looking you up and down, and that you ain't never to
+come near Him without your best clothes and your company manners on.
+Seems to me the Lord don't only want to know you now and then, He
+wants to know you right along. If you can't go to Him because you be
+mucked with charcoal, it be bitter hard.'
+
+'You know you can.'
+
+'I do know you can, I do. When I've been as black as black can be
+I've felt Him just as close as in the chapel Sundays.'
+
+'The Lord is not here or there, in the house or in the field; He is
+with His children.'
+
+'Hebe that! He be!'.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII
+
+                          A TRIUMPHAL ENTRY
+
+
+The people came to meet the Lord upon the Ripley road, and they were
+not a few.
+
+The first that found Mr. Treadman were Mrs. Powell and Harvey
+Gifford. They took a fly from the station, bidding the driver drive
+straight on. Nor had they gone far before they came on Mr. Treadman
+sitting on a gate. They cried to him:
+
+'What is the meaning of your telegram?'
+
+'It means that the Lord has come again, in very surety and very
+truth.'
+
+'Are you in earnest?'
+
+'Did they not ask that question of the prophets? Were they in
+earnest? Then am I.'
+
+'But where is He?'
+
+'He has given me the slip.'
+
+'Given you the slip? What do you mean?'
+
+Mr. Treadman explained. While he did so, others arrived, men and
+women of all sorts, ranks, and ages. They were agog with curiosity.
+
+'What like is He to look at? Does the sight of Him blind, as it did
+Moses?'
+
+'Nothing of the sort. He is just an ordinary man, like you and me.'
+
+'An ordinary man! Then how can you tell it is the Lord?'
+
+'He is not to be mistaken. You cannot be in His presence twenty
+seconds without being sure of it.'
+
+'But--I don't understand! I thought that when He came again it was to
+be with legions of angels, in pomp and glory, to be the Judge of all
+the earth.'
+
+'The Jews looked for a material display. They thought He was to come
+in Majesty. And because, to their unseeing eyes, He appeared as one
+of themselves, in their disappointment they nailed Him upon a tree.
+Oh, my friends, don't let a similar mistake be ours! That is the
+awful, immeasurable peril which already stares us in the face.
+Because, in His infinite wisdom, for reasons which are beyond our
+ken, and, perhaps, beyond our comprehension, He has again chosen to
+put on the guise of our common manhood, let us not, on that account,
+the less rejoice to see Him, nor let us fail to do Him all possible
+honour. He has come again unto His children; let His children receive
+Him with shouts and with Hosannas. It is possible, when He perceives
+how complete is His dominion over your hearts and minds, that He will
+be pleased to manifest Himself in that splendour of Godhead for which
+I know some of you have been confidently looking. Only, until that
+hour comes, let us not fail to do reverence to the God in man.'
+
+'But where is He? You told us to meet Him on the Ripley road. How can
+we do Him reverence if we do not know where He is?'
+
+The question came in different forms from many throats. The crowd had
+grown. The people were eager.
+
+A boy threaded his way among them. He addressed himself to Mr.
+Treadman.
+
+'Please, sir, there's someone in the wood with Mr. Bates. When I took
+Mr. Bates his dinner he called him "Lord."'
+
+Presently the crowd were following the boy. He led them some little
+distance along the road, and then across a field into a wood. There
+they came upon the Stranger and the charcoal-burner eating together,
+seated side by side; and the lame man also ate with them, sitting on
+the ground. Mr. Treadman cried:
+
+'Lord, we have found You again!'
+
+He looked at the people, asking:
+
+'Who are these?'
+
+They are Your children--Your faithful, loving, eager children, who
+have come to give You greeting.'
+
+'My children? There are many that call themselves My children that I
+know not of.'
+
+Mr. Treadman cried:
+
+'Oh, my friends, this is the Lord! Rejoice and give thanks. Many are
+the days of the years in which you have watched for Him, and waited,
+and He has come to you at last.'
+
+For the most part the people were still. There were some that pressed
+forward, but more that hung back. For now that they came near to the
+Stranger's presence they began to be afraid. Yet Mrs. Powell went
+close to Him, asking:
+
+'Are you in very deed the Lord?'
+
+He replied:
+
+'Are you of the children of the Lord?
+
+She drew a little back.
+
+'I do not know Him; I do not know Him! Yet I am afraid.'
+
+'Love casteth out fear; but where there is no love, there fear is.'
+
+She drew still more away, saying again:
+
+'I am afraid.'
+
+Mr. Treadman explained:
+
+'We are here to meet You, Lord, and to entreat You to let us come
+with You to London.'
+
+'Why should you come with Me?'
+
+'Because we are Your children.'
+
+'My children!'
+
+'Yes, Lord, Your children, each in his or her own fashion, but each
+with his or her whole heart. And because we are Your children, we are
+here to meet You--many of us at no slight personal inconvenience--to
+keep You company on the way, so that by our testimony we may begin to
+make it known that the Lord has come again to be the Judge of all the
+earth.'
+
+'What know you of the why and wherefore of My coming?'
+
+'Actually nothing. But I am very sure You are here for some great and
+good purpose, and trust, before long, to prove myself worthy of the
+Divine confidence. In the meantime I implore You to suffer those who
+are here assembled to accompany You as a guard of honour, so that You
+may make, though in a rough-and-ready fashion, a triumphant entry
+into that great city which is the capital of Your kingdom here on
+earth.'
+
+'I will come with you.' To the lame man and to the
+charcoal-burner He said: 'Come also.'
+
+He went with them. And when they came into the road nothing would
+content Mr. Treadman but that He should get into the fly which had
+brought Mrs. Powell and Mr. Gifford from the station. The lame man
+and the charcoal-burner rode with Him. As Mr. Treadman was preparing
+to mount upon the box Mrs. Powell came.
+
+'What am I to do? I cannot walk all the way. It is too far.'
+
+'Get in also. There is room.'
+
+She shuddered.
+
+'I dare not--I am afraid.'
+
+So the fly went on without her.
+
+As they went the bands played and the people sang hymns. There were
+some that shouted texts of Scripture and all manner of things. In the
+towns and villages folk came running out to learn what was the cause
+of all the hubbub.
+
+'What is it?' they cried.
+
+Mr. Treadman standing up would shout: 'It is the Lord! He has come to
+us again! Rejoice and give thanks. Come, all ye that are weary and
+heavy laden, for He has brought you rest.'
+
+They pressed round the fly, so that it could scarcely move.
+
+In a certain place a great man who was driving with his wife, when he
+saw the crowd and heard what they were saying, was angry, crying with
+a loud voice:
+
+'What ribaldry is this? What blasphemous words are these you utter? I
+am ashamed to think that Englishmen should behave in such a fashion.'
+
+Mr. Treadman answered:
+
+'You foolish man! you don't know what it is you say. Yours is the
+shame, not ours. It is the Lord in very deed!'
+
+The other, still more angry, caused his coachman to place his
+carriage close beside the fly, intending to reprimand Him whom he
+supposed to be the cause of the commotion. But when he saw the
+Stranger he was silent. His wife cried: 'It is the Lord!'
+
+She went quickly from the carriage to the fly. When she reached it
+she fell on her knees, hiding her face on the seat at the Stranger's
+side.
+
+'You have my son, my only son!'
+
+He said:
+
+'Be comforted. Your son I know and you I know. To neither of you
+shall any harm come.'
+
+Her husband called to her.
+
+'Are you mad? What is the meaning of this extraordinary behaviour? Do
+you wish to cause a public scandal?'
+
+She answered:
+
+'It is the Lord!'
+
+But her husband commanded her:
+
+'Come back into the carriage!'
+
+She cried:
+
+'Lord, let me stay with You. You have my boy; where my boy is I would
+be also.'
+
+The Stranger said:
+
+'Return unto your husband. You shall stay with Me although you return
+to him.'
+
+She went back into the carriage weeping bitterly.
+
+The news of the strange procession which was coming went on in front.
+All the way were people waiting, so that the crowd grew more and
+more. All that came had to make room for it, waiting till the press
+was gone. Though the way was long, but few seemed to tire. Those that
+were at the first continued to the end, the bands playing almost
+without stopping, and the people singing hymns.
+
+By the time they neared London it was evening. The throng had grown
+so great the authorities began to be concerned. Policemen lined the
+roads, ready if necessary to preserve order. But their services were
+not needed, as Mr. Treadman proclaimed:
+
+'Constables, we are, glad to see you. Representatives of the law, He
+who comes is the Lord. Therefore shout Hosanna with the best of us
+and give Him greeting.'
+
+Presently someone pressed a piece of paper into his hand on which was
+written:
+
+
+'If the Lord would but stay this night in the house of the chief of
+sinners.
+
+                               'MIRIAM POWELL.'
+
+
+He took a pencil from his pocket, and wrote beneath:
+
+
+'He shall stay in your house this night, thou daughter of the Lord.
+
+                               'W. S. T.'
+
+
+From his seat on the box Mr. Treadman leaned over towards the fly.
+
+'Lord, I entreat You to honour with Your presence the habitation of
+Your very daughter, Miriam Powell, whose good works, done in Your
+name, shine in the eyes of all men.'
+
+He replied:
+
+'Thy will, not Mine, be done!' Mr. Treadman shouted to the people:
+'My friends, I am authorised by the Lord to announce that He will
+rest in the house of His faithful servant, Miriam Powell, whose name,
+as a single-minded labourer in Christ's vineyard, is so well-known to
+all of you. To mark our sense of His appreciation of the manner in
+which Mrs. Powell has borne the heat and burden of the day, let us
+join in singing that beautiful hymn which has comforted so many of us
+when the hours of darkness were drawing nigh, "Abide with me, fast
+fall the eventide."'
+
+Mrs. Powell's house was in Maida Vale. It was late when the
+procession arrived. Even then it was some time before the fly could
+gain the house itself. The crowd had been recruited from a less
+desirable element since its advent in the streets of London, and this
+reinforcement was disposed to show something of its more disreputable
+side. The vehicle, with its weary horse and country driver, had to
+force its way through a scuffling, howling mob. For some moments it
+looked as if, unless the police arrived immediately in great force,
+there would be mischief done; until the Stranger, standing up in the
+fly, raised His hand, saying:
+
+'I pray you, be still.'
+
+And they were still. And He passed through the midst of them, with
+the charcoal-burner and the lame man. Mr. Treadman came after.
+
+When He entered the house, He sighed.
+
+Now Mrs. Powell, when she had learned that the Stranger was to be her
+guest, had hastened home to make ready for His coming, so that the
+table was set for a meal. But when He saw that there was a place for
+only one, He asked:
+
+'What is this? Is there none that would eat with me?'
+
+Mr. Treadman answered:
+
+'Nay, Lord, there is none that is worthy. Suffer us first to wait
+upon You. Then afterwards we will eat also.'
+
+He said:
+
+'Does not a father eat with his children? Are they not of him? If
+there is any in this house that calls upon My name, let him sit down
+with me and eat.'
+
+So they sat down and ate together. While they continued at
+table but little was said; for the day had been a long one, and they
+were weary. When they had eaten, the Stranger was shown into the best
+room, where was a bed which offered a pleasant resting-place for
+tired limbs. But He did not lie on it, nor sought repose, but went
+here and there about the room, as if His mind were troubled. And He
+cried aloud:
+
+'Father, is it for this I came?'
+
+In the street were heard the voices of the people, and those that
+cried:
+
+'Christ has come again!'
+
+And in the best room of the house the Stranger wept, lamenting:
+
+'I have come unto Mine own, and Mine own know Me not. They make a
+mock of Me, and say, He shall be as we would have Him; we will not
+have Him as He is. They have made unto themselves graven images, not
+fashioned alike, but each an image of his own, and each would have Me
+to be like unto the image which he has made. For they murmur among
+themselves: It is we that have made God; it is not God that has made
+us.'
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIV
+
+                      THE WORDS OF THE WISE
+
+
+There began to be in London that night a feeling of unrest. A sense
+of uncertainty came into men's minds, a desire to find answers to the
+questions which each asked of the other:
+
+'Who is this man? Who does he pretend to be? Where does he come from?
+What does he want?'
+
+In the minds of some that last inquiry assumed a different form. They
+asked, of their own hearts, if not of one another:
+
+'Why has he come to trouble us?'
+
+The usual showed signs of the unusual. In a great city a divergence
+from the normal means disturbance; which is to be avoided. When the
+multitude is strongly stirred by a consciousness of the abnormal in
+its midst, to someone, or to something, it means danger. Order is not
+preserved by authority, but by tradition. A suspicion that events are
+about to happen which are contrary to established order shakes that
+tradition, with the immediate result that confusion threatens.
+
+There was that night hardly one person who was not conscious of more
+or less vague mental disturbance. There were those who at once leaped
+to the conclusion that the words of Scripture, as they interpreted
+them, were about to receive complete illustration. There were others
+whose theological outlook was capable of less mathematically accurate
+definition, who were yet in doubt as to whether some supernatural
+being might not have appeared among men. There was that large class
+which, having no logical grounds for expectation, is always looking
+for the unexpected, ever eager to believe it is upon them. The
+members of this class are not interested in current theories of a
+deity; they are indifferent whether God is or is not. The phrase 'a
+Second Coming' conveyed no meaning to their minds. They would welcome
+any new thing, whether it was Christ Jesus or Tom Fool; though, when
+they realised who Christ Jesus was, their preference would be
+strongly in favour of Tom Fool. It was, for the most part,
+individuals of this sort who bent their steps towards the house in
+which the Stranger was, and, by way of diversion, loitered in its
+neighbourhood throughout the night.
+
+In the house itself a consultation was being held. Various persons
+who take a notorious interest in subjects of the hour were gathered
+together, like bees about a flower, desirous to extract from the
+occasion such honey as they could. Mr. Treadman, who presided, had
+explained to the meeting, in words which burned, what a matter of
+capital importance it was which had brought them there.
+
+Professor Wilcox Wilson displayed his usual fondness for destructive
+criticism.
+
+'Our friend Treadman speaks of the frightful consequences
+which would attend an only partial recognition of the Lord's
+divinity. He says nothing of the at least equally bad results which
+would ensue from giving credit to an impostor. Apart from the fact
+that there are those who are still in doubt as to which portion of
+the New Testament narrative is to be regarded as mythical----'
+
+Mr. Treadman sprang to his feet.
+
+'Mr. Wilson, this meeting is for believers only. We are not here for
+an academical discussion; we are here as children of Christ.'
+
+'Quite so. I, also, am anxious to be a child of Christ. I only say,
+with another, "Help Thou my unbelief." It seems to me that the
+personage whom we will call our distinguished visitor----'
+
+'Wilson, sit down! In my presence you shall not speak with such
+flippancy of the Lord Christ. It is to protest against such frames of
+mind that we are here. Don't you realise that He who is in the room
+above us has but to lift His little finger to lay you dead?'
+
+'It would prove nothing if he did; certainly not that he is the Lord
+Christ. My dear Treadman, let me ask you seriously to consider
+whether you propose to conduct your crusade on logical lines or as
+creatures of impulse. If it is as the latter you intend to figure,
+you will do an incalculable amount of mischief. The Lord who made us
+is aware of our deficiencies. He is responsible for them.'
+
+'No! No!'
+
+'Who, then, is? Is there a greater than God? Do you blaspheme? He
+knows that He has given us, as one of the strongest passions of our
+nature, a craving for demonstrable proof. If this is shown in little
+things, then how much more in greater! If you want it proved that two
+and two are five, then are you not equally desirous of having it
+clearly established that a wandering stranger has claims to call
+himself divine? So put, the question answers itself. If this man is
+God, he will have no difficulty in demonstrating the fact beyond all
+possibility of doubt; and he will demonstrate it, for he knows that
+human nature, for which he is responsible, requires such
+demonstration. If he does not, then rest assured he is no God.'
+
+Mr. Jebb stood up.
+
+'What sort of proof does Professor Wilson require? What amount would
+he esteem sufficient? Would he expect that the demonstration should
+be repeated in the case of each separate individual? I put these
+questions, feeling that the Professor has possibly his own point of
+view, because it is asserted that miracles have taken place. A large
+body of apparently trustworthy evidence testifies to the fact. I am
+bound to admit that my own researches go to show that the occurrences
+in question are at least extra-natural. Does the Professor suggest
+that any power short of what we call Divine can go outside nature?'
+
+The Professor replied:
+
+'I will be candid, and confess that it is because the events referred
+to are of so extraordinary a nature that I am in this galley. I have
+hitherto seen no reason to doubt that everything which has happened
+in cosmogony is capable of a natural explanation. If I am to admit
+the miraculous, I find myself confronted by new conditions, on which
+account I ask this worker of wonders to show who and what he is.'
+
+'He has already shown Himself to be more than man.'
+
+'I grant that he has shown himself to be a remarkable person. But it
+does not by any means therefore follow that he is the Son of God, the
+Christ of tradition.'
+
+Mr. Treadman broke into the discussion.
+
+'He has shown Himself to me to be the Christ.'
+
+'But how? that's what I don't understand. How?'
+
+'Wilson, pray that one day He may show Himself to you before it is
+too late. Pray! pray! then you'll understand the how, wherefore, and
+why, though you'll still not be able to express them in the terms of
+a scientific formula.'
+
+The Professor shrugged his shoulders.
+
+'That is the sort of talk which has been responsible for the
+superstition which has been the world's greatest bane. The votaries
+of the multifarious varieties of hanky-panky have always shown a
+distaste for the cold, dry light of truth, which is all that science
+is.'
+
+Jebb smiled.
+
+'I am not so exigent as the Professor. I recognise the presence in
+our midst of a worker of wonders--a god among men. And although in
+that latter phrase some may only see a poetic license, I am disposed
+to be content. For I represent a too obvious fact--the fact that one
+portion of the world is the victim of the other part's injustice. As
+I came here to-night I passed through men and women, ragged,
+tattered, and torn, smirched with all manner of uncleanliness, who
+were hastening towards this house as if towards the millennium.
+Remembering how often that quest had been a dream, I asked myself if
+it were possible that at last it gleamed on the horizon. As I put to
+myself the question, my heart leaped up into my mouth. For it was
+borne in upon me, as a thing not to be denied, that it might be that,
+in the best of all possible senses, the Day of the Lord has arrived--
+the Great Day of the Lord.'
+
+'It has arrived, Jebb, be sure of it!'
+
+'I think--I say it with all due deference--that it will not
+be our fault if it has not, in the sense in which I use the phrase. I
+am told that we have Christ again among us. On that pronouncement I
+pass no opinion. I stand simply for those that suffer. I do know that
+we are in actual touch with one who has given proofs of his capacity
+to alleviate pain and make glad the sorrowful. Experience has shown
+that by nothing less than a miracle can the submerged millions be
+raised out of the depths. Here is a doer of miracles. Already he has
+shown that a cry of anguish gains access to the heart, and impels him
+to a removal of the cause. Here is a great healer, the physician the
+world is so much in want of. Would it not be well for us, sinking all
+controversial differences, to join hands in approaching him, and in
+showing him, with all humility, the wounds which gape widest, and the
+souls which are enduring most, doing this in the trust that the sight
+of so much affliction will quicken his sympathies, and move him to
+right the wrong, and to make the rough ways smooth? How he will do it
+I cannot say. But he who can raise a cancerous corpse from an
+operating table, and endue it with life and health upon the instant,
+can do that and more. To such an one all things are possible. I ask
+you to consider whether it will not be well that we should discuss
+the best and most effective manner in which, in the morning, this
+matter can be laid before him who has come among us.'
+
+Scarcely had Mr. Jebb ceased to speak than there rose a huge man,
+with matted beard, untidy hair, eager eyes, and a voice which seemed
+to shake the room. This was the socialist, Henry Walters. He spoke
+with tumultuous haste, as if it was all he could do to keep up with
+the words which came rushing along his tongue.
+
+'I say, Yes! if that's the Christ you're talking about, I'm for him.
+If this disturber of the peace is a creature with red blood in his
+veins, count me on his side. For he'll be a disturber of the peace
+with a vengeance. If at last Heaven has given us someone who is
+prepared to deal, not with abstractions, but with facts, then I cry:
+"Hallelujah for the King of Kings!" For it's more important that our
+rookeries should be made decent dwelling-places than that all the
+Churches should plump for the Thirty-nine Articles. The prospect of a
+practical Christ almost turns my brain. Religion is a synonym for
+contradiction in theory and practice, but a Christ who is a live man,
+and not a decoration for an altarpiece, will be likely to have clear
+notions on the problems which are beyond our finding out, and to care
+little for singing bad verses about the golden sea. We want a Saviour
+more than the handful of Jews did, who at least had breathing space
+in the 11,000 miles of open country, with a respectable climate,
+which you call Palestine. But he must be a Saviour that is a Saviour;
+not an utterer of dark sayings which are made darker by being
+interpreted, but a doer of deeds. Let him purify the moral and
+physical atmosphere of a single London alley, and he'll not want for
+followers. Let him assure the London dockers of a decent return for
+honest labour, and he'll write his name for all time on their hearts.
+Let him put an end to sweating, and explain to the wicked mighty that
+by right their seats should be a little lower down, and he'll have
+all that's worth having in the world upon his side. You talk about a
+Saviour of the poor. If such an one has come at last, the face of
+this country will be transformed in a fashion which will surprise
+some of you who live on the poor. There'll be no need of a second
+crucifixion, or for more tittle-tattle about dying for sinners. Let
+him live for them. He has but to choose to conquer, to will to extend
+his empire, eternally, from pole to pole. And since these are my
+sentiments I need not enlarge on the zest with which I shall join in
+the discussion suggested by Mr. Jebb as to the most irresistible
+method of laying before him who has come among us the plain fact that
+this chaos called a city is but a huge charnel-house of human
+misery.'
+
+When Mr. Walters sat down the Rev. Martin Philipps rose:
+
+'I have listened in silence to the remarks which we have just heard
+because I felt that this was pre-eminently an occasion on which every
+man, conscious of his own responsibility, was entitled to an
+uninterrupted exposition of his views, however abhorrent those views
+might be to some of us. I need not tell you how both the tone and
+spirit of those to which we have just been listening are contrary to
+every sense and fibre of my being. Mr. Jebb and the last speaker seem
+only to see the secular side of the subject which is before us. This
+is the more surprising as it has no secular side. If Christ has come,
+it is as a Divinity, not as an adherent of this or that political or
+social school, but as an intermediary between heaven and earth. I
+cannot express to you the horror with which I regard the notion that
+the purport of His presence here can be to administer to the material
+wants of men. To suppose so is indeed to mock God. We as Christians
+know better. It is our blessed privilege to be aware that it is not
+our bodies which He seeks, but our souls. Our body is but the
+envelope which contains the soul, and from which one day it emerges,
+like the chrysalis from the cocoon. The one endures but for a few
+years, the other through all eternity.
+
+'I would not inflict on you these platitudes were it not necessary,
+after the remarks which we have heard, for us, as Christians to make
+our position plain. If Christ has come again, it is in infinite love,
+to make a further effort to save us from the consequences of our own
+sin, to complete the work of His atonement, and to seek once more to
+gather us within the safety of His fold.
+
+'I had never thought that under any possible circumstances I should
+be constrained to ask myself the question, Has Christ come again?
+Strange human blindness! I had always supposed that, as a believer in
+Christ, and Him crucified, and as a preacher, I should never have the
+slightest doubt as to whether or not He had returned to earth. I see
+now with clearer eyes; I perceive my own poor human frailty; I
+realise more clearly the nature of the puzzle which must have
+presented itself to the Jews of old. I use the word "puzzle" because
+it seems to define the situation more accurately than any other which
+occurs to me. Looking back across the long tale of the years, it is
+difficult for us to properly apprehend the full bearing of the fact
+that Christ, the Son of God, was once an ordinary man, in manners,
+habits, and appearance exactly like ourselves. We say glibly: "He was
+made man," but how many of us stop to realise what, in their
+entirety, those words mean! When I first heard that someone was in
+London who, it was rumoured, was the Lord Jesus, my feeling was one
+of shock, horror, amazement, to think that anyone could be guilty of
+so blasphemous a travesty. If you consider, probably the same
+sensation was felt by Jews who were told that the Messiah, to whose
+advent their whole history pointed, was in their midst. When they
+were shown an ordinary man, who to their eyes looked exactly like his
+fellows--a person of absolutely no account whatever--their feeling
+was one of deep disgust, derision, scorn, which presently became
+fanatical rage. Exactly what they were looking for, more or less
+vaguely (for the promise was of old, and the performance long
+delayed), they scarcely knew themselves. But it was not this. Who is
+this man? What is his name? Where does he come from? What right has
+he to hold himself up as different from us? These were questions
+which they asked. When the answers came their rage grew more, until
+the sequel was the hill of Calvary.
+
+'A similar problem confronts us to-day in London. We believe in
+Christ, although we never saw Him. I sometimes think that, if we had
+seen Him, we might not have believed. God grant that I am wrong! For
+nearly nineteen hundred years we have watched and waited for His
+Second Coming. The time has been long; the disappointments have been
+many, until at last there has grown up in the midst of some a sort of
+dull wonder as to whether He will ever come again at all. "How long?"
+many of us have cried--"O Lord, how long?" Suddenly our question
+receives an answer of a sort. We are told: "No longer--now. The great
+day of the Lord is already here. Christ has come again." When in our
+bewilderment we ask, "Where is He? What is He like? Whence has He
+come, and how? Why wholly unannounced, in such guise and fashion?" we
+receive the same answer as did the Jews of old.
+
+'This is a grave matter which we have met to discuss--so grave that I
+hardly dare to speak of it; but this I will venture to say: I know
+that my Redeemer liveth; but whether I should know Him, as He should
+be known, if I met Him face to face, very man of very man, here upon
+earth, I cannot certainly say. I entreat God to forgive me in that I
+am compelled, to my shame, to make such a confession; and I believe
+that He will forgive me, for He knows, as none else can, how strange
+a thing is the heart of man. He who is with us in this house tonight
+has been spoken of as a worker of wonders. That I myself know he is,
+and of wonders which are other than material. When yesterday I stood
+before him, I was abashed. The longer I stayed, the more my sense of
+self-abasement grew. I felt as if I, a thing of impurity, had been
+brought into sudden, unexpected contact with one who was wholly pure.
+I was ashamed. I am conscious that there is a presence in this house
+which, though intangible, is not to be denied. Whether or not the
+physical form and shape of our Lord is in the room above us, He is
+present in our midst; and I confidently hope, when I have sought
+guidance from God in prayer--as I trust that we presently shall all
+do--to obtain light from the Fountain of all light which shall make
+clear to me the way.'
+
+The Rev. Martin Philipps was succeeded by Mr. John Anthony Gibbs. Mr.
+Gibbs was a short, portly person, with a manner which suggested,
+probably in spite of himself, a combination of the pedagogue with the
+man of business.
+
+'I believe that I am entitled to say that I represent certain
+religious bodies in the present House of Commons, and while endorsing
+what the last speaker has said, I would add to his remarks one or two
+of my own. I apprehend that it is generally allowed that we have
+among us a remarkable man. I understand that he is with us to-night
+beneath this very roof. The spirit of the age is inclined towards
+incredulity, but I for one am disposed to be convinced that he is not
+as others are. Admitting the bare possibility of his being more than
+man, even though he be less than God, I confidently affirm that it is
+to the Churches first of all that the question is of primary
+importance. I would suggest that representations be at once made to
+the different Churches.'
+
+'Including the Roman Catholic?'
+
+The question came from Henry Walters.
+
+'No, sir; not to the Roman Catholic hierarchy; I was speaking of the
+Christian Churches only.'
+
+'And the Roman Catholic is not one of them?'
+
+'Most emphatically not, as it is within the bounds of possibility
+that it will speedily and finally learn. I speak for the Churches of
+Protestant Christendom only.'
+
+'That is very good of you.'
+
+'And I repeat that I would suggest that representations should be
+made to those that are in authority, and that meetings be called; a
+first to be attended by the clergy only, and a second by both the
+clergy and laity, at which this great question should be properly and
+adequately discussed.'
+
+'And what's to happen in the meantime?'
+
+'Sir, I was not addressing you.'
+
+'But I was addressing you. We all know what religious meetings are
+like, especially when they are attended by representatives of
+Protestant Christendom only. While they are making up their minds
+about the differences between Tweedledum and Tweedledee, is Christ,
+humbly quiescent, to stand awaiting their decision?'
+
+'Sir, your language is repulsive. I am only addressing myself to
+those persons present who are proud to call themselves Christians.
+And them I am asking to consider whether it is not in the highest
+degree advisable that we should endeavour to obtain at the earliest
+possible moment the opinion of our bishops and clergy on this
+question of the most supreme importance.'
+
+'Hear, hear! And when we've got them, we shall know how to appreciate
+them at their proper value. The Lord deliver us from our bishops and
+clergy!'
+
+After Mr. Gibbs had resumed his seat there ensued an interval, during
+which no one evinced an inclination to continue the discussion.
+Possibly Mr. Walters's interruptions had not inspired anyone with a
+desire to incur his criticism. His voice and manner were alike
+obstreperous. There were those present who knew from experience that
+it was extremely difficult to shout him down.
+
+When some moments had passed without the silence being broken, Mr.
+Treadman leaned across the table towards where sat that singular
+personality whose name is a synonym for the Salvation Army, and who
+has credited himself with brevet rank as 'General' Robins.
+
+'General, is there nothing which you wish to say to us? Surely this
+is not a subject on which you would desire to have your voice
+unheard?'
+
+The 'General' was sitting right back in his chair. He was an old man.
+The suggestion of age was accentuated by his attitude. His back was
+bowed, his head hung forward on his chest, his hands lay on his
+knees, as if the arms to which they were attached were limp and
+weary. He did not seem to be aware that he was being addressed, so
+that Mr. Treadman had to repeat his question. When it was put a
+second time he glanced up with a start, as if he had been brought
+back with a shock from the place of shadows in which his thoughts had
+been straying.
+
+'I was thinking,' he replied.
+
+'Of what? Will you not allow us to hear our thoughts on a subject
+whose magnitude bulks larger with each word we utter?'
+
+The old man was silent, as if he were considering. Then he said,
+without altering his position:
+
+'I was thinking that I knew more when I was young than I do now that
+I am old. All my life I have been sure--till now. Now, the first time
+that assurance is really needed, it is gone, and has left me
+troubled. God help us all!'
+
+'Explain yourself, General.'
+
+'That's another part of the trouble, that I'm pretty nearly afraid to
+explain. All the days of my life I've been crying: "Take courage! Put
+doubt behind you!" And now, when courage is what I most am wanting,
+it's fled; only doubt remains.'
+
+'But, General, you of all others have no cause for doubt; and you've
+proved your courage on a hundred fields. You've not only fought the
+good fight yourself, you have shown others how to fight it too.'
+
+'That's it--have I? As Mr. Philipps said, to-night there's
+a Presence in the air, I felt It as I came up the street,
+as I entered this house, and more and more as I've been
+seated in this room. And in that Presence I have grown afraid,
+fearful lest in all that I have done I have done wrong. I confess--
+because It knows--that I have had doubts as to the propriety of my
+proceedings from the first. Like Saul, I seem to have been smitten
+with sudden blindness in order that I may see at last. I see that
+what Christ wants is not what I have given Him. I understood man's
+nature, but refused to understand His. I realised that there is
+nothing like sensationalism to attract a certain sort of men and
+women; I declined to realise that it does not attract Christ.
+Confident assertion pleases the mob, when it's in a certain humour,
+but not Him. Bands, uniforms, newspapers, catchwords--all the
+machinery of advertisement I have employed;--but He does not
+advertise. Worst of all, I've taught from a thousand platforms that a
+man may be a notorious sinner one minute and a child of Christ the
+next. I know that is not so.'
+
+The old man stood up, his quavering tones rising in a shrill
+crescendo.
+
+'You ask me to tell you what I think. I think that we are about to
+stand before the judgment-seat of God as doomed men. We have been
+like the Scribes and Pharisees, saying, We know Christ, and are
+therefore not as others, when all the time our knowledge has been
+hurrying us not to but from Him. I know that my Redeemer liveth, and
+have used that knowledge for my own ends. Because it seemed to me
+that His methods were ineffective, I have said, Not His will, but
+mine be done. I have taught Him, not as He would be taught, but as it
+has suited me to teach Him. I have lied of Him and to Him, and have
+taught a great multitude to lie also. I have made of Him a mockery in
+the eyes of men, dragged Him through the gutter, flaunted Him from
+the hoardings, used Him as a street show, and as a mountebank in the
+houses which I have called not His, but mine. I have blasphemed His
+Name by using it as a meaningless catch-phrase in the foolish mouths
+of men and women seeking for a new sensation, or for self-display. I
+have done all these things and many more. I am an old man. What time
+have I for atonement? For I know now that what Christ wants is a
+man's life, not merely a part of it--the beginning, the middle, or
+the end. You cannot win him with a phrase in a moment of emotion. You
+have gradually, persistently, quietly, to mould yourself in His
+image. Nothing else will serve. For that, for me, the time is past. I
+cannot undo what I have done, nor can I begin again. It is too late.
+
+'You ask me what I think. I think if Christ has come again--I fear He
+has, for strange things have happened to me since I entered the
+Presence that is in this room--that we had better flee, though where,
+I do not know; for wherever we go we shall take Him with us. I, for
+one, dare not meet Him face to face. I envy him his courage that
+dare, though he will have to be made of different stuff from any of
+us if it is to avail him anything. Be assured of this, that for us
+the Second Coming will not be a joyful advent. It will mean, at best,
+the pricking of the bubbles we have so long and so laboriously been
+blowing. We shall be made to know ourselves as He knows us. There
+will be the beginning of the end. What form that end will take I dare
+not endeavour to foresee. God help us all!'
+
+There was a curious quality in the silence that ensued when the
+'General' ceased, until Mr. Treadman sprang to his feet.
+
+'I protest, with all the strength that is in me, against the doctrine
+which we have just heard! It is abominable--a thing of horror--
+contrary to all that we know of God's love and His infinite mercy! I
+know that it is false!'
+
+'Oh, man! man! it's few things we haven't known, you and
+I--except ourselves. And that knowledge is coming to us too soon.
+Woeful will be the day!'
+
+'I cannot but think that the sudden rush of exciting events has
+turned our honoured friend's brain.'
+
+'It has, towards the light; so that I can see the outer darkness
+which lies beyond.'
+
+'General, I cannot find language with which to express the pain I
+feel at the tendency which I perceive in your attitude to turn your
+back on all the teachings of your life.'
+
+'Your sentence is involved--your sentences sometimes are; but your
+meaning's tolerably clear. I'm sorry too.'
+
+'Do you mean to deny that he who repents finds God--you who have been
+vehement in the cause of instant conversion.'
+
+'To my shame you say it.'
+
+'Your shame! Have you forgotten that there is more joy in heaven over
+one sinner that repenteth than over ninety-nine just persons? You
+out-Herod Calvin in his blackest moods.'
+
+'I'll not dispute with you. It's but words, words. I only hope that
+by repentance He means what you do. But I greatly fear.'
+
+'I am sure.'
+
+'Oh, man, how often we have been sure--we two!'
+
+'I am sure still. My friends, the General is nearer to Christ than he
+thinks, and Christ is nearer to him. We shall do no harm, any of us,
+by expressing our consciousness of sin, though at such a time as this
+I cannot but think that such an expression may go too far. We who are
+here have all of us laboured in our several ways in the Lord's
+vineyard. To suggest that the fruit of our endeavours has been all
+that it might have been would be presumption. We are but men. The
+best that men can do is faulty. But we have done our best, each
+according to his or her light. And having done that best, we are
+entitled to wait with a glad confidence the inspection of the Master.
+To suppose that He will require from us what He knows it has not been
+in our power to give or to do--I thank God that there is nothing in
+Scripture or out of it to cause any one to imagine that He is so
+relentless a taskmaster. And I--I have enjoyed the glad and glorious
+privilege of standing in His very presence. I have dared to speak to
+Him, to look Him in the face. I give you my personal assurance that I
+have not suffered for my daring, but have been filled instead with a
+great joy, and with an infinite content. No, General; no, my friends;
+the Lord has not come to us in anger, but in peace--a man like unto
+ourselves, knowing our infirmities, to wipe the tears out of our
+eyes. Do not, I beseech you, look upon Him for a moment as the
+dreadful being the General has depicted. The General himself, when
+his black mood has passed, and he finds himself indeed face to face
+with his Master, will be the first to perceive how contrary to truth
+that picture is. And in that moment he will know, once and forever,
+how very certain it is that the Second Coming of our Lord and Saviour
+is to us, His children, an occasion of great joy.'
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV
+
+                            THE SUPPLICANT
+
+
+There was in the house that night one person who did not attempt to
+sleep--its mistress, Mrs. Miriam Powell, a woman of character; a fact
+which was sufficiently demonstrated by the name by which she was best
+known to the world. For when the Christian name of a married woman is
+familiar to the public it is because she is a person of marked
+individuality.
+
+Something of her history was notorious; not only within a large
+circle of acquaintance, but outside of it. It had lost nothing in the
+telling. An unhappy marriage; a loose-living husband--a man who was
+in more senses than one unclean; a final resolution on her part to
+live out her life alone. Out of these data she had evolved a set of
+opinions on sexual questions to which she endeavoured to induce
+anyone and everyone, in season and out of season, to listen. There
+were some who regarded her with sympathy, some with admiration, some
+with respect, and some with fatigue.
+
+In such cases women are apt to be regarded as representatives of a
+class; as abstractions, not concrete facts. The accident of her
+having had a bad husband was known to all the world; that she was
+herself the victim of a temperament was not. She was of the stuff out
+of which saints and martyrs may have been made, which is not
+necessarily good material out of which to make a wife. Enthusiasm was
+a necessity of her existence--not the frothy, fleeting frenzy of a
+foolish female, but an enduring possession of the kind which makes
+nothing of fighting with beasts at Ephesus. Although she herself
+might not be aware of it, the nature of her matrimonial experiences
+had given her what her instincts craved for: a creed--sexual reform.
+
+She maintained that sexual intercourse was a thing of horror; the
+cause of all the evil which the world contains. Although she was wise
+enough not to proclaim the fact, in her heart she was of opinion that
+it would be better that the race should die out rather than that the
+evil should continue. She aimed at what she called universal
+chastity; maintaining that the less men and women had to do with each
+other the better. In pursuit of this chimera she performed labours
+which, if not worthy of Hercules, at least resembled those of
+Sisyphus in that they had to be done over and over again. The stone
+would not stay at the top of the hill.
+
+At the outset she had been convinced--as the fruit of her own
+experience--that the fault lay with the men. Latterly she had been
+inclining more and more to the belief that the women had something to
+do with it as well. Indeed, she was beginning to more than suspect
+that theirs might be the major part of the blame. The suspicion
+filled her with a singular sort of rage.
+
+This was the person to whose house the Stranger had come at this
+particular stage of her mental development. His advent had brought
+her to the verge of what is called madness in the case of an ordinary
+person of to-day; and spiritual exaltation in the case of saints and
+martyrs. She already knew that she was on a hopeless quest, and,
+although the fact did not daunt her for a moment, had realised that
+nothing short of a miracle would bring about that change in the human
+animal which she desired. Here was the possibility of a miracle
+actually at hand. Here was a worker of wonders--men said, the very
+Christ.
+
+It was the reflection that what men said might be true which made her
+courage quail at last.
+
+A miracle-monger she desired. But--the Christ! To formulate the
+proposition which was whirling in her brain to a
+doer-of-strange-deeds was one thing, but--to Him! That was another.
+
+When she had come into His near neighbourhood she had shrunk back, a
+frightened creature. She had been afraid to look Him in the face.
+Ever since He had been beneath her roof she had been shaken as with
+palsy.
+
+Dare she do this thing?
+
+That was the problem which had been present in her mind the whole day
+long, and which still racked it in the silent watches of the night.
+To and fro she passed, from room to room, from floor to floor. More
+than once she approached the door behind which He was, only to start
+away from it again and flee. She did not even dare to kneel at His
+portal, fearful lest He, knowing she was there, might come out and
+see. In her own chamber she scanned the New Testament in search of
+words which would comfort and encourage her. In vain. The sentences
+seemed to rise up from off the printed pages to condemn her.
+
+She had an idea. The lame man and the charcoal-burner were the joint
+occupants of a spare room. She would learn from them what manner of
+man their Master was--whether He might be expected to lend a
+sympathetic ear to such a supplication as that which she had it in
+her heart to make. But when she stood outside their apartment she
+reflected that they were common fellows. Her impulse had been to
+refuse them shelter, being at a loss to understand what connection
+there could be between her guest and such a pair. That they had
+thrust themselves upon Him she thought was probable; the more reason,
+therefore, why she should decline to countenance their presumptuous
+persistence. To seek from them advice or information would be an act
+of condescension which would be as resultless as undignified.
+
+No. Better go directly to the fountainhead. That would be the part
+both of propriety and wisdom.
+
+She screwed her courage to the sticking-point, and went.
+
+The two disciples were lodged in an upper story. She had her knuckles
+against the panel of their door when at last her resolution was
+arrived at. Straightway relinquishing her former purpose, she
+hastened down the stairs to the floor on which He was. As she went
+the clock in the hall struck three.
+
+The announcement of the hour moved her to fresh irresolution. Would
+it be seemly to rouse Him out of slumber to press on Him such a
+petition? Yet if she did not do it now, when could she? She might
+never again have such an opportunity. Were His ears not always open
+to the prayers of those that stood in need of help? What difference
+did the night or the morning make to Him? She put out her hand
+towards the door.
+
+As she did so a great fear came over her. It was as though she was
+stricken with paralysis. She could neither do as she intended nor
+withdraw her hand. She remained as one rooted to the floor. How long
+she stayed she did not know. The seconds and the minutes passed, and
+still she did not move. Presently her fear grew greater. She knew,
+although she had not made a sound, that, conscious of her presence,
+He was coming towards her on the other side of the door.
+
+Then the door was opened, and she saw Him face to face. He
+did not speak a word; and she was still. The gift of fluent speech
+for which she was notorious had gone from her utterly. He looked at
+her in such fashion that she was compelled to meet His eyes, though
+she would have given all that she had to have been able to escape
+their scrutiny. For in them was an eloquence which was not of words,
+and a quality which held her numb. For she was conscious not only
+that He knew her, in a sense of which she had never dreamed in her
+blackest nightmares, but that He was causing her to know herself. In
+the fierce light of that self-knowledge her heart dried up within
+her. She saw herself as what she was--the embittered, illiberal,
+narrow-minded woman who, conscious of her isolation, had raised up
+for herself a creed of her own--a creed which was not His. She saw
+how, with the passage of the years, her persistence in this creed had
+forced her farther and farther away from Him, until now she had grown
+to have nothing in common with Him, since she had so continually
+striven to bring about the things which He would not have. She had
+placed herself in opposition to His will, and now had actually come
+to solicit His endorsement of her action. And she knew that in so
+doing she had committed the greatest of all her sins.
+
+She did not offer her petition. But when the door was closed again,
+and He had passed from her actual sight, there stood without one from
+whose veins the wine of life had passed, and whose hair had become
+white as snow. Although not a word had been spoken, she had stood
+before the Judgment Seat, and tasted of more than the bitterness of
+death. When she began to return to her own room she had to feel her
+way with her hands. Her sight had become dim, her limbs feeble. She
+had grown old.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVI
+
+                            IN THE MORNING
+
+
+All through the night people remained in the street without. With the
+return of day their numbers so increased that the authorities began
+to be concerned. The house itself was besieged. It was with
+difficulty that the police could keep a sufficient open space in
+front to enable persons to pass in and out. An official endeavoured
+to represent to the inmates the authoritative point of view.
+
+'Whose house is this?' he asked of the servant who opened the door.
+
+He was told.
+
+'Can I see Mrs. Powell?'
+
+The maid seemed bewildered.
+
+'We don't know what's the matter with her. We're going to send for a
+doctor.'
+
+'Is she ill?'
+
+'She's grown old since last night.'
+
+'What do you mean?'
+
+The officer stared. The girl began to cry.
+
+'I want to get away. I'm frightened.'
+
+'Don't be silly. What have you got to be frightened at? Can't I see
+someone who's responsible? I don't know who you've got in the house,
+but whoever it is, he'd better go before there's trouble.'
+
+'They say it's Christ.'
+
+'Christ or no Christ, I tell you he'd better go somewhere where his
+presence won't be the occasion of a nuisance. Is there no one I can
+see?'
+
+'I am here.' The answer came from Mr. Treadman, who, with three other
+persons, had just entered the hall. 'What is it, constable? Is there
+anything you want?'
+
+'I don't know who you are, sir, but if you're the cause of the
+confusion outside you're incurring a very serious responsibility.'
+
+'I am not the cause; it is not me they have come to see. They have
+come to see the Lord. Officer, Christ has come again.'
+
+Mr. Treadman laid his hand upon the official's arm; who instantly
+shook it off again.
+
+'I know nothing about that; I want to know nothing. I only know that
+no one has a right to cause a nuisance.'
+
+'Cause a nuisance? Christ! Officer, are you mad?'
+
+'I don't want to talk to you. I have my instructions; they're enough
+for me. My instructions are to see that the nuisance is abated. The
+best way to do that is to induce your friend to take himself
+somewhere else without any fuss.' Voices came from the street. 'Do
+you hear that? A lot of half-witted people have foolishly brought
+their sick friends, and have actually got them out there, as if this
+was some sort of hospital at which medical attendance could be had
+for the asking. If anything happens to those sick people, it won t be
+nice for whoever is to blame.'
+
+'Nothing will happen. The Lord has only to raise His hand, to say the
+word, for them to be made whole. They know it; their faith has made
+them sure.'
+
+The officer regarded the other for a moment or two before he spoke
+again.
+
+'Look here, I don't know what your game is----'
+
+'Game?'
+
+'And I don't know what new religion it is you're supposed to be
+teaching----'
+
+'New religion? The religion we are teaching is as old as the hills.'
+
+'Very well; then that's all right. You take it to the hills; there'll
+be more room there. You tell your friend that the sooner he takes a
+trip into the country the better it'll be for everyone concerned.'
+
+'Officer, don't you understand what it means when you are told that
+Christ has come again? Can it be possible that you are not a
+Christian?'
+
+The official waved his hand.
+
+'The only thing about which I'm concerned is my duty, and my duty is
+to carry out my instructions. If, as I say, your friend is a sensible
+man, he'll change his quarters as soon as he possibly can. You'll
+find me waiting outside, to know what he intends to do. Don't keep me
+any longer than you can help.'
+
+The official's disappearance was followed by a momentary silence;
+then Mr. Treadman laughed awkwardly, as if his sense of humour had
+been tickled by something which was not altogether pleasant.
+
+'That is the latest touch of irony, that Christ should be regarded as
+a common nuisance, and on His Second Coming to be the Judge of all
+the earth requested to take Himself elsewhere!'
+
+The Rev. Martin Philipps pursed his lips.
+
+'What you say is correct enough; it is a ludicrous notion. But, on
+the other hand, the position is not a simple one. If, as they bid
+fair to do, the people flock here in huge crowds, at the very least
+there will be confusion, and the police will have difficulty in
+keeping order.'
+
+'You would not have the people refrain from coming to greet their
+Lord?'
+
+'I would nave them observe some method. Do you yourself wish that
+they should press upon Him in an unmanageable mob?'
+
+'Have no fear of that. He will hold them in the hollow of His hand,
+and will see that they observe all the method that is needed. For my
+part, I'd have them flock to Him from all the corners of the earth--
+and they will.'
+
+'In that case I trust that they will not endeavour to pack themselves
+within the compass of the London streets.'
+
+'Be at peace, my friend; do not let yourself be troubled. All that He
+shall do will be well. Now, first, to see our dear sister, whose
+request He granted, and whom He so greatly blessed by staying beneath
+her roof.'
+
+As he spoke, turning, he saw a figure coming down the stairs--an old
+woman, who tottered from tread to tread, clinging to the banister, as
+if she needed it both as a guide and a support.
+
+'Who is this?' he asked. Then: 'It can't be Mrs. Powell?' It was. He
+ran to her. 'My dear friend, what has happened to you since I saw you
+last?'
+
+The old woman, grasping the banister with both hands, looked down at
+him.
+
+'I have seen Him face to face!'
+
+'Seen whom?'
+
+'Christ. I have stood before the judgment-seat of God.'
+
+There was a quality in her voice which, combined with the singularity
+and even horror of her appearance, caused them to stare at her with
+doubting eyes. Mr. Treadman put a question to the servant, who still
+lingered in the passage:
+
+'What does she mean? What has taken place?'
+
+The girl began again to whimper.
+
+'I don't know. I want to go--I daren't stop--I'm frightened!'
+
+Mr. Treadman ascended to the old woman.
+
+'Take my arm; let me help you down, then you can tell me all that has
+happened.'
+
+With her two hands she caught his arm in a convulsive grip. At her
+touch they saw that his countenance changed. As they descended side
+by side upon his face was a curious expression, almost as if he was
+afraid of his companion. As she came the others retreated. When he
+led her into a room the others followed at a distance, showing a
+disposition to linger in the doorway. He brought her to a chair.
+
+'Here is a seat. Sit down.'
+
+She glanced with her dim eyes furtively to the front and back, to the
+right and left, continuing to clutch his arm, as if unwilling to
+relinquish its protection. He was obviously embarrassed.
+
+'Did you not hear what I said? Here is a seat. Let me go.'
+
+She neither answered nor showed any signs of releasing him. He called
+to those in the doorway:
+
+'Come and help me, someone; she grips my arm as in a vice. Mrs.
+Powell, I must insist upon your doing as I request. Let me go!'
+
+With a sudden wrench he jerked himself away. Deprived of his support,
+she dropped on to the ground. Indifferent to her apparent
+helplessness, he hurried to the trio at the door.
+
+'There's something awful about her--worse than madness. She has given
+me quite a nervous shock.'
+
+'General' Robins answered; he was one of the three who had come with
+Mr. Treadman.
+
+'As she herself says, she has seen Him face to face. Wait till we
+also have seen Him face to face. God help us all!'
+
+The Rev. Martin Philipps fidgeted.
+
+'Without wishing to countenance any extravagant theories, it is plain
+that something very strange has happened to Mrs. Powell. I trust that
+we ourselves are incurring no unnecessary risks.'
+
+Mr. Jebb, who also had come with Mr. Treadman, regarded the speaker
+in a manner which was not flattering.
+
+'You religious people are always thinking of yourselves. It is
+because you are afraid of what will happen to what you call your
+souls that you try to delude yourselves with the pretence that you
+believe; regarding faith as a patent medicine warranted to cure all
+ills. You might find indifference to self a safer recipe.'
+
+Picking up Mrs. Powell from where she still lay upon the floor, he
+placed her in a chair.
+
+'My good lady, the proper place for you is in bed.' He called to the
+maid: 'See that your mistress is put to bed at once, and a doctor
+sent for.'
+
+'A doctor,' cried Mr. Treadman, 'when the Great Healer Himself is
+upstairs!'
+
+'You appear to ignore the fact that, according to your creed, the
+Great Healer, as you call him, metes out not rewards only, but
+punishments as well. He is not a doctor to whom you have only to
+offer a fee to command his services.'
+
+'General' Robins caught at the words.
+
+'He does ignore it; and by his persistence in so doing he makes our
+peril every moment greater.'
+
+'At the same time,' continued Mr. Jebb, 'it is just as well that we
+should keep our heads. A person of Mrs. Powell's temperament and
+history may pass from what she was to what she is in the twinkling of
+an eye without the intervention of anything supernatural. So much is
+certain.'
+
+Mr. Treadman, who had been wiping his brow with his
+pocket-handkerchief, as if suffering from a sudden excess of heat,
+joined in the conversation.
+
+'My dear friend, God moves in a mysterious way. We all know that. Let
+us not probe into His actions in this or that particular instance,
+but rest content with the general assurance that all things work
+together for the good of those that love the Lord. Let us not forget
+the errand which has brought us here. Let us lose no more time, but
+use all possible expedition in opening our hearts to Him.'
+
+'I wish, Treadman, since you are not a parson, that you wouldn't ape
+the professional twang. Isn't ordinary English good enough for you?'
+
+'My dear Jebb, you are pleased to be critical. My sole desire is to
+speak of Him with all possible reverence.'
+
+'Then be reverent in decent every-day English. Are you suggesting
+that we should seek his presence? Because, if so I'm ready.'
+
+It seemed, however, that the other two were not. 'General' Robins
+openly confessed his unwillingness to, as he put it, meet the
+Stranger face to face. Nor was Mr. Philipps's eagerness in that
+direction much greater than his. Even Mr. Treadman showed signs of a
+chastened enthusiasm. It needed Mr. Jebb's acerbity to rekindle the
+expiring flame. Mr. Treadman repudiated the hints which his associate
+threw out with a show both of heat and scorn.
+
+Soon the quartette were mounting the stairs which led to the
+Stranger's room. On the landing there was a pause. The 'General' and
+Mr. Philipps, whose unwillingness to proceed further had by no means
+vanished, still lagged behind. Mr. Jebb lashed them with his tongue.
+
+'What's wrong with you? Is it spiritual fear or physical? In either
+case, what fine figures you both present! All these years you have
+been sounding your trumpets, proclaiming that you are Christ's, and
+Christ is yours; that the only thing for which you have yearned is
+His return. Now see how you shiver and shake! Is it because you are
+afraid that He has come, or because you fear He hasn't?'
+
+'I don't think,' stammered Mr. Philipps, 'that you are entitled to
+say I am afraid--other than in the sense in which every true believer
+must be afraid when he finds himself standing on the threshold of the
+Presence.'
+
+The 'General' was more candid.
+
+'I fear, I fear! He knows me altogether! He knows I fear!'
+
+Mr. Treadman endeavoured to return to his old assurance.
+
+'Come, my friends, let us fear nothing. Whether we live we are the
+Lord's; or whether we die we are the Lord's, blessed be the name of
+the Lord! Let us rejoice and make glad, and enter into His presence
+with a song.'
+
+Without knocking, turning the handle of the door in front of which
+they stood, he went into the room. Mr. Jebb went with him. After
+momentary hesitation, the Rev. Martin Philipps followed after. But
+'General' Robins stayed without. It was as if he made an effort to
+force his feet across the threshold, and as if they refused him their
+obedience. The tall, rugged figure, clad in its bizarre uniform,
+trembled as with ague.
+
+On a sudden one of the bands for whose existence he was responsible
+burst into blatant sound in the street beyond. As its inharmonious
+notes reached his ears, he leant forward and hid his face against the
+wall.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII
+
+                        THE MIRACLE OF HEALING
+
+
+The Stranger was seated, conversing with His two disciples. When the
+trio entered He was still. From the street came the noise of the
+Salvation Army band and the voices of the people. There was in the
+air the hum of a great multitude.
+
+Something of his assurance had gone from Mr. Treadman. His tongue was
+not so ready, his bearing more uncertain. When he spoke, it was with
+emotion which was almost tearful, at first, in gentler tones than he
+was wont to use.
+
+'Lord, we Thy servants, sinners though we are, and conscious of our
+infirmities, come to Thee to offer up our supplications. We come in
+the name of Thy people. For though, like children, they have erred
+and strayed, and lacked the wisdom of the Father, yet they are Thy
+children, Lord, and hold Thy name in reverence. And they are many. In
+all the far places of the world they are to be found. And in this
+great city they are for numbers as the sands of the sea. Not all of
+one pattern--not all wise or strong. Associated with the various
+branches of the universal Church, differing in little things, they
+are all of one mind upon one point, their love for Thee. We pray Thee
+to make Thyself known to the great host which is Thy family, assuring
+Thee that Thou hast only to do so to find that it fills all the
+world. The exigencies of modern civilisation render it difficult for
+a mortal monarch to meet his subjects as he would desire; nor, with
+all respect be it urged, is the difficulty made less in the case of
+the King of Kings. Therefore we have ventured, subject to Thy
+approval, to make arrangements for the hire of a large building,
+called the Albert Hall, which is capable of holding several thousand
+persons. And we pray that Thou wilt deign to there meet detachments
+of Thy people in such numbers as the structure will accommodate, as a
+preliminary to the commencement of Thy reign over all the earth.
+Since the people are so anxious to see Thy face that already the
+police find it difficult to keep their eagerness within due bounds,
+we would entreat Thee to delay as little as possible, and to hold Thy
+first reception in the Albert Hall this afternoon. This prayer we lay
+at Thy feet in the hope and trust that Thou wilt not be unwilling to
+avail Thyself of the experience and organising powers of such of Thy
+servants as have spent their lives in the highways and byways of this
+great city, working for Thy Holy Name.'
+
+When Mr. Treadman had finished, the Stranger asked of Mr. Jebb:
+
+'What is it that you would say to Me?'
+
+Mr. Jebb replied:
+
+'I have not Mr. Treadman's command of a particular sort of language,
+but in a general way I would endorse all that he has said, adding a
+postscript for which I am alone responsible. I do not know what is
+the purpose of your presence here, and--with all respect to certain
+of my friends--I do not think that anyone else knows either. I trust
+that you are here for the good of the world at large, and not as the
+representative of this or that system of theology. Should that be the
+case, I would observe that sound religion is synonymous with a sound
+body, and that no soldier is at his best as a fighting man who is
+under-fed. I ask your attention to the poor of London--the materially
+poor. You have, I am told, demonstrated your capacity to perform
+miracles. If ever there was a place in which a miracle was required,
+it is the city of London. Cleanse the streets, purify the dwellings,
+clothe the poor, put food into their bellies, make it possible for
+them to live like decent men and women, and you will raise an
+enduring monument to the honour and glory of God. The human family
+has shown itself incapable of providing adequately for its various
+members. Make good that incapacity, and you will at once establish
+the kingdom of heaven here on earth. I ask to be allowed to place
+before you certain details which will illustrate some of the worst of
+the evils which require attention, in the belief that they have only
+to be brought home to you with sufficient force to be at once swept
+out of existence.'
+
+The Stranger turned to the Rev. Martin Philipps.
+
+'What is it that you would say?'
+
+Mr. Philipps began to stammer.
+
+'I--I had put together the heads of a few remarks which I had
+intended to make on this occasion, but they have all gone from me.'
+He stretched out his arms with a sudden cry: 'Forgive me, Lord, if in
+Thy presence I am dumb.'
+
+'You have done better than these others. Is there not one who waits
+outside? Let him come in.'
+
+The 'General' entered, and fell on the floor at His feet, crying,
+'Lord, Lord!'
+
+He said: 'What would you have of Me?'
+
+'Nothing, Lord, nothing, except that You would hide from me the anger
+which is on Your face!'
+
+'You also are of the company of those who would administer the
+kingdom of heaven as if it were their own. So that God must learn of
+men, not men of God! You call yourselves His children, yet seek not
+to know what is in the Father's heart, but exclaim of the great
+things which are in yours, forgetting that the wisdom of God is not
+as the wisdom of men. So came sin and death into the world, and still
+prevail. Rise. Call not so often on My Name, nor proclaim it so
+loudly in the market-place. Seek yourself to know Me. Take no heed to
+speak of Me foolishly to others, for God is sufficient unto each man
+for his own salvation.'
+
+He arose, and the 'General' also. He said to Mr. Treadman and to Mr.
+Jebb:
+
+'You foolish fellows! To think that God needs to be advised of men!
+Consider what God is; then consider what is man.' He turned to the
+lame man and to the charcoal-burner. 'Come! For there is that to do
+which must be done.'
+
+When He had left the room the 'General' stole after Him. Mr. Jebb
+spoke to Mr. Treadman.
+
+'You and I are a pair of fools!'
+
+'Why do you say that?'
+
+'To suppose that anything that we could say would have the slightest
+weight with Him. It's clearly a case of His will, not ours, be done.
+If tradition is to be trusted, His will was not the popular will in
+the days of old. He'll find that it is still less so now. Millions of
+men, conscious of crying grievances, are not to be treated as
+automata. There's trouble brooding.'
+
+'Oh, if He only would be guided, so easily He might avoid a
+repetition of the former tragedy, and hold undisputed sway in the
+hearts of all men and women which the world contains.'
+
+'I doubt the very easily; and anyhow, He won't be guided. I for one
+shall make no further attempt. I don't know what it is He proposes to
+Himself (I never could clearly understand what was the intention of
+the Christ of tradition), but I'm sure that it was something very
+different to what is in your mind. I am equally certain that the
+world has never seen, and will never suffer, such an autocrat as He
+suggests.'
+
+'Jebb, I know you mean well, I know how you have devoted your whole
+life to the good of others, but I wish I could make you understand
+how every word you utter is a shock to my whole sense of decency and
+reverence.'
+
+'Your sense of decency and reverence! You haven't any. You and
+Philipps and Robins, and all men of your kidney, have less of that
+sort of thing than I have. You are too familiar ever to be reverent.'
+
+'Jebb, what noise is that?'
+
+'He has gone out into the street. At sight of Him the people have
+started shouting. The police will have their hands full if they don't
+look out. Something very like the spirit of riot is abroad.'
+
+'I must follow Him; I must try to keep close to Him, wherever He may
+go. Perhaps my assiduity may at last prevail. As it is, it all
+threatens to turn out so differently to what I had hoped.'
+
+'Yes, you had hoped to be a prominent figure in the proceedings, but
+you are going to take no part in them at all; that's where the shoe
+pinches with you, Treadman.'
+
+Mr. Treadman had not stayed to listen. He was already down the stairs
+and at the street door, to find that the Stranger had just passed
+through it, to be greeted by a chorus of exclamations from those who
+saw Him come.
+
+The spacious roadway was filled with people from end to end--an
+eager, curious, excitable crowd. There were men, women, and children;
+but though it contained a sprinkling of persons of higher social
+rank, it was recruited mostly from that class which sees nothing
+objectionable in a crowd as such. Vehicular traffic was stopped. The
+police kept sufficient open space upon the pavement to permit of
+pedestrians passing to and fro. In front of the house was a
+surprising spectacle. Invalids of all sorts and kinds were there
+gathered together in heterogeneous assemblage. The officials, finding
+it impossible without using violence to prevent their appearance on
+the scene, had cleared a portion of the roadway for their
+accommodation, so that when He appeared, He found Himself confronted
+by all manner of sick. There were blind, lame, and dumb; idiots and
+misshapen folk; sufferers from all sorts of disease, in all stages of
+their maladies. Some were on the bed from which they were unable to
+raise themselves, some were on chairs, some on the bare ground. They
+had been brought from all parts of the city--young and old, male and
+female. There were those among them who had been there throughout the
+night.
+
+When they saw Him come out of the door, those who could move at all
+began to press forward so that they might be able to reach Him,
+crying:
+
+'Heal us! heal us!'
+
+In their eagerness they bade fair to tread each other under foot;
+seeing which the officer who stood at the gate turned to Him, saying:
+
+'Is it you these poor wretches have come to see? If you have
+encouraged them in their madness you have incurred a frightful
+responsibility; the deaths of many of them will be upon your head.'
+
+He replied:
+
+'Speak of that of which you have some understanding.' To the
+struggling, stricken crowd in front of Him He said: 'Go in peace and
+sin no more.'
+
+Straightway they all were healed of their diseases. The sick sprang
+out of their beds and from off the ground, cripples threw away their
+crutches, the crooked were made straight, the blind could see, the
+dumb could talk. When they found that it was so they were beside
+themselves with joy. They laughed and sang, ran this way and that,
+giving vent to their feelings in divers strange fashions.
+
+And all they that saw it were amazed, and presently they raised a
+great shout:
+
+'It is Christ the King!'
+
+They pressed forward to where He stood upon the step. Stretching out
+His hand, He held them back.
+
+'Why do you call me king? Of what am I the king? Of your hearts and
+lives? Of your thoughts at your rising up and lying down? No. You
+know Me not. But because of this which you have seen you exclaim with
+your voice; your hearts are still. Who among you doeth My
+commandments? Is there one who has lived for Me? My name is on your
+tongues; your bodies you defile with all manner of evil. You esteem
+yourselves as gods. There are devils in hell who are nearer heaven
+than some of you. As was said to those of old, Except you be born
+again you know Me not. I know not you; call not upon My name. For
+service which is of the lips only is a thing hateful unto God.'
+
+When He ceased to speak the people drew farther from Him and closer
+to each other, murmuring among themselves:
+
+'Who is he? What are these things which he says? What have we done to
+him that he should speak to us like this?'
+
+A great stillness came over the crowd; for, although they knew not
+why, they were ashamed.
+
+When He came down into the street they made way for Him to pass, no
+one speaking as He went.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                            THE YOUNG MAN
+
+
+The fame of these things passed from the frequenters of the streets
+and the hunters of notoriety to those in high places. The matter was
+discussed at a dinner which was given that night by a Secretary of
+State to certain dignitaries, both spiritual and temporal. There was
+no Mr. Treadman there. The atmosphere was sacrosanct. There was an
+absence of enthusiasm on any subject beneath the sun which, to minds
+of a certain order, is proper to sanctity. The conversation wandered
+from Shakespeare to the musical glasses; until at last something was
+said of the subject of the day.
+
+It was the host who began. He was a person who had risen to his high
+position by a skilful manipulation of those methods which have made
+of politics a thing apart. A clever man, shrewd, versatile, desirous
+of being in the van of any movement which promised to achieve
+success.
+
+'The evening papers are full of strange stories of what took place
+this morning at Maida Vale. They make one think.'
+
+'I understand,' said Sir Robert Farquharson, known in the House of
+Commons as 'the Member for India,' 'that the people are quite
+excited. Indeed, one can see for oneself that there are an unusual
+number of people in the streets, and that they all seem talking of
+the same thing. It reminds one of the waves of religious frenzy which
+in India temporarily drive a whole city mad.'
+
+'We don't go quite so far as that in London, fortunately. Still, the
+affair is odd. Either these things have been done, or they haven't.
+In either case, I confess myself puzzled.'
+
+The Archbishop looked up from his plate.
+
+'There seems to be nothing known about the person of any sort or
+kind--neither who he is, nor what he is, nor whence he comes. The
+most favourable supposition seems to be that he is mentally
+deranged.'
+
+'Suppose he were the Christ?' The Archbishop looked down; his face
+wore a shocked expression. The Secretary smiled; he has not hesitated
+to let it be known that he is in bondage to no creed. 'That would
+indeed be to bring religion into the sphere of practical politics.'
+
+'Not necessarily. It was a Roman blunder which placed it there
+before.'
+
+This was the Earl of Hailsham, whose fame as a diplomatist is
+politically great.
+
+'You think that Christ might come and go without any official notice
+being taken of the matter?'
+
+'Certainly. Why not? That might, and would, have been the case before
+had Pontius Pilate been a wiser and a stronger man.'
+
+'That point of view deserves consideration. Aren't you ignoring the
+fact that this is a Christian country?'
+
+'In a social sense, Carruthers, most decidedly. I hope that we are
+all Christians in England--I know I am--because to be anything else
+would be the height of impropriety.'
+
+The Secretary laughed outright.
+
+'Your frankness shocks the Archbishop.'
+
+Again the Archbishop looked up.
+
+'I am not easily shocked at the difference of opinion on questions of
+taste. It is so easy to jeer at what others hold sacred.'
+
+'My dear Archbishop, I do implore your pardon a thousand times;
+nothing was farther from my intention. I merely enunciated what I
+supposed to be a truism.'
+
+'I am unfortunately aware, my lord, that Christianity is to some but
+a social form. But I believe, from my heart, that, relatively, they
+are few. I believe that to the great body of Englishmen and
+Englishwomen Christianity is still a vital force, probably more so
+to-day than it was some years ago. To the clergy I know it is; by
+their lives they prove it every hour of every day.'
+
+'In a social or a spiritual sense? Because, as a vital force, it may
+act in either direction. Let me explain to you exactly what I mean.
+That it is nothing offensive you will see. My own Rector is a most
+estimable man; he, his curates, and his family are untiring in their
+efforts to increase the influence of the Church among the people.
+There is not a cottager in the parish who does not turn towards the
+Rectory in time of trouble--he would rather turn there than towards
+heaven. In that sense I say that the Rector's is a social, rather
+than a spiritual, influence; he himself would be the first to admit
+it. The work which the Church is doing in the East of London is
+social. The idea seems to be that if you improve the social
+conditions, spiritual improvement will follow. Does it? I wonder.
+Christianity is a vital force in a social sense, thank goodness! But
+my impression is that its followers await the Second Coming of their
+Founder with the same dilettante interest with which the Jews
+anticipate the rebuilding of Jerusalem. Both parties would be
+uncomfortably surprised if their anticipations were fulfilled. They
+would be confronted with a condition for which they were not in any
+way prepared. Candidly, wouldn't they? What would you yourself do if
+this person who is turning London topsy-turvy were actually the
+Christ?'
+
+'I am unable to answer so very serious a question at a moment's
+notice.'
+
+'In other words, you don't believe that he is the Christ; and nothing
+would make you believe. You know such things don't happen--if they
+ever did.'
+
+'You would not believe even though one rose from the dead--eh,
+Archbishop?'
+
+The question came from Sir William Braidwood, the surgeon. The Earl
+of Hailsham looked towards him down the table.
+
+'By the way, what is the truth about that woman at the hospital?'
+
+'The woman was dead; living, she was cancerous. He restored her to
+life; healed of her cancer. No greater miracle is recorded of the
+Christ of tradition. This afternoon a woman came to me who has been
+paralysed for nearly five years, unable to move hand or foot, to
+raise herself on her bed, or to do anything for herself whatever. She
+came on her own feet, ran up the stairs, radiant with life, health,
+and good spirits, in the full enjoyment of all her limbs. She was one
+of those who were at Maida Vale, whither she had been borne upon her
+bed. You should hear her account of what took place. The wonder to me
+is that the crowd was not driven stark, staring mad!'
+
+'These things cause one to think furiously.' The Secretary sipped his
+wine. He addressed the Archbishop. 'Have you received any official
+intimation of what is taking place?'
+
+'I have had letters, couched in the most extraordinary language, and
+even telegrams. Also verbal reports, full of the wildest and most
+contradictory statements. I occupy a position of extreme
+responsibility, in which my slightest word or action is liable to
+misconstruction.'
+
+'Has it been clearly proved,' asked Farquharson, 'that he himself
+claims to be the Christ?' No one seemed to know; no one answered. 'Do
+I understand, Braidwood, that you are personally convinced that this
+person is possessed of supernatural powers?'
+
+'I am; though it does not necessarily follow on that account that he
+is the Christ, any more than that he is Gautama Siddartha or Mahomet.
+I believe that we are all close to what is called the supernatural,
+that we are divided from it by something of no more definite texture
+than a membrane. We have only to break through that something to find
+such powers are. Possibly this person has performed that feat. My own
+impression is that he's a public danger.'
+
+'A public danger? How?'
+
+'Augustus Jebb called to see me before I came away--the social
+science man, I mean. He followed close on the heels of the woman of
+whom I told you. He was himself in Mrs. Powell's house at the time,
+and from a window saw all that occurred. He corroborates her story,
+with additions of his own. A few moments before he, with others, had
+an interview with the miracle-worker. He says that he was afraid of
+him, mentally, physically, morally, because of the possibilities
+which he saw in the man. He justifies his fear by two facts. As you
+are aware, this person stopped last night at the house of Mrs. Miriam
+Powell, the misguided creature who preaches what she calls social
+purity. She was a hale, hearty woman, in the prime of life, as late
+as yesterday afternoon. She was, however, a terrible bore. The
+probability is that, during the night, for some purpose of her own,
+she forced herself into her guest's presence; with the result that
+this morning she was a thing of horror.'
+
+'In what sense?'
+
+'Age had prematurely overtaken her--unnatural age. She looked and
+moved like a hag of ninety. She was mentally affected also, seeming
+haunted by an unceasing causeless terror. She kept repeating: "I have
+seen Him face to face!"--significant words. Jebb's other fact
+referred to Robins, the Salvation Army man. When Robins came into
+this person's presence he was attacked as with paralysis, and
+transformed into a nerveless coward. Jebb says that he is a pitiable
+object. His inference--which I am disposed to endorse--is, that if
+that person can do good he can also do evil, and that it is dependent
+upon his mood which he does. A man who can perform wholesale cures
+with a word may, for all we know, also strike down whole battalions
+with a word. His powers may be new to him, or the probability is that
+we should have heard of him before. As they become more familiar, to
+gratify a whim he may strike down a whole cityful. And there is
+another danger.'
+
+'You pile up the agony, Braidwood.'
+
+'Wait till I have finished. There are a number of wrong-headed
+persons who think that he may be used as a tool for their own
+purposes. For instance, Jebb actually endeavoured to induce him to
+transform London, as it were, with a touch of his wand.'
+
+'What do you mean?'
+
+'You know Jebb's panacea--better houses for the poor, and that sort
+of thing. He tried to persuade this person to provide the London poor
+with better houses, money in their pockets, clothes on their backs,
+and food in their stomachs, in the same instantaneous fashion in
+which he performed his miracle of healing.'
+
+'Is Mr. Jebb mad?'
+
+'I should say certainly not. He has been brought into contact with
+this person, and should be better able to judge of his powers than we
+are. He believes them to be limitless. Jebb himself was badly
+snubbed. But that is only the beginning. He tells me that the man
+Walters, the socialistic agitator, and his friends are determined to
+make a dead set at the wonder-worker, and to leave no stone unturned
+to induce him to bring about a revolution in London. The possibility
+of even such an attempt is not agreeable to contemplate.'
+
+'If these things come to pass, religion--at least, so far as this
+gentleman is concerned--will at once be brought within the sphere of
+practical politics. Don't you think so, Hailsham?'
+
+'It might bring something novel into the political arena. I should
+like to see how parties would divide upon such a question, and the
+shape which it would take. Would the question as to whether he was or
+was not the Christ be made the subject of a full-dress debate, and
+would the result of the ensuing division be accepted as final by
+everyone concerned?'
+
+'I should say no. If the "ayes" had it in the House, the "noes" would
+have it in the country, and _vice versa_.'
+
+'Farquharson, you suggest some knowledge of English human nature. In
+our fortunate country obstinacy and contrariness are the dominant
+public notes. A Briton resents authority in matters of conscience,
+especially when it emanates from the ill-conditioned persons who
+occupy the benches in the Lords and Commons; which is why religious
+legislation is such a frightful failure.'
+
+This with a sly glance at the Archbishop, who had been associated
+with a Bill for the Better Ordering of Public Worship.
+
+The Duke of Trent joined in the conversation. He was a young man who
+had recently succeeded to the Dukedom. Coming from a cadet branch of
+the family, he had hitherto lived a life of comparative retirement.
+His present peers had not yet made up their minds as to the kind of
+character he was. He spoke with that little air of awkwardness
+peculiar to a certain sort of Englishman who approaches a serious
+subject. His first remark was addressed to Sir William Braidwood:
+
+'But if this is the Christ, would you not expect Him to mete out
+justice as well as mercy? He may have come to condemn as well as to
+bless. In that case a sinner could hardly expect to force himself
+into His presence and escape unscathed.'
+
+'On points of theology I refer you to the Archbishop. My point is,
+that an autocrat possessed of supernatural powers is a public
+danger.'
+
+'Does that include God the Father? He is omnipotent. Whom He will He
+raises up, and whom He will He puts down. So we Christians believe.'
+
+The Archbishop turned towards him.
+
+'You are quite right, Duke; we know it. To suppose that Christ could
+be in any sense a public danger is not only blasphemous but absurd.
+Such a notion could only spring from something worse than ignorance.
+I take it that Sir William discredits the idea that about this person
+there is anything divine.'
+
+'I believe He is the Christ!'
+
+'You do?'
+
+'I do.'
+
+'But why?'
+
+All eyes had turned towards the young man; who had gone white to the
+lips.
+
+'I do not know that I am able to furnish you with what you would
+esteem a logical reason. Could the Apostles have given a mathematical
+demonstration of the causes of their belief? I only know that I feel
+Him in the air.'
+
+'Of this room?'
+
+'Yes, thank God! of this room.'
+
+'You use strange words. Do you base your belief on his reported
+miracles?'
+
+'Not entirely, though I entirely dissent from Sir William Braidwood's
+theory that we are near to what he calls the supernatural; except in
+the sense that we are near heaven, and that God is everywhere. Such
+works are only of Him. Man never wrought them; or never will. My
+mother loved Christ. She taught me to do so. Perhaps that is why I
+know that He is in London now.'
+
+'What do you propose to do?'
+
+'That is what troubles me. I don't know. I feel that I ought to do
+something, but--it is so stupid of me!--I don't know what.'
+
+'Does your trouble resemble the rich young man's of whom some of us
+have read?'
+
+This was the Earl of Hailsham. The Duke shook his head.
+
+'No; it's not that. He knows that I will do anything I can do; but I
+don't think He wants me to do anything at all. He is content with the
+knowledge that I know He is here, that His presence makes me happy. I
+think that's it.'
+
+Such sentiments from a young man were unusual. His hearers stared the
+more. The Archbishop said, gravely, sententiously:
+
+'My dear Duke, I beg that you will give this matter your most serious
+consideration; that you will seek advice from those qualified to give
+it; and that only after the most careful deliberation you will say or
+do anything which you may afterwards regret. I confess I don't
+understand how you arrive at your conclusions. And I would point out
+to you very earnestly how much easier it is to do harm than good.'
+
+The young man, leaning over on to the table, looked his senior
+curiously in the face.
+
+'Don't you know that He is Christ--not in your heart of hearts?'
+
+The question, and the tone of complete conviction with which it was
+put, seemed to cause the Archbishop some disturbance.
+
+'My dear young friend, the hot blood of youth is in your veins; it
+makes you move faster than we old men. You are moved, I think, easily
+in this direction and in that, and are perhaps temperamentally
+disposed to take a good deal for granted.'
+
+'I'm sorry you don't know. You yourself will be sorry afterwards.'
+
+'After what?'
+
+This again was Hailsham.
+
+'After He has gone. He may not stay for long.'
+
+'Trent, I find you a most interesting study. I won't do you the
+injustice to wonder if your attitude can be by any possibility a
+pose, but it takes a great deal for granted. For instance, it
+presumes that the legends found in what are called the four gospels
+are historical documents, which no man has believed yet.'
+
+This roused the Archbishop.
+
+'My lord, this is a monstrous assertion. It is to brand a great
+multitude of the world's best and greatest as liars--the whole host
+of the confessors!'
+
+'They were the victims of self-delusion. There are degrees of belief.
+I have endeavoured to realise Christ as He is pictured in the
+gospels. I am sure no real believer of that Christ ever was a member
+of any church with which I am acquainted. That Christ is in ludicrous
+contrast with all that has been or is called Christianity.'
+
+The Secretary interposed.
+
+'Gently, Hailsham! How have we managed to wander into this
+discussion? If you are ready, gentlemen, we will go into the
+drawing-room. One or two ladies have promised to join us after
+dinner; I think we may find that some of them are already there.
+Archbishop, Hailsham will stultify himself by dragging religion into
+the sphere of practical politics yet.'
+
+'I won't rest,' declared the Archbishop, as he rose from his chair,
+'until I have seen this man.'
+
+'Be careful how you commit yourself, and be sure that you are in good
+bodily health, and free from any sort of nervous trouble, before you
+go. Because, otherwise, it is quite within the range of possibility
+that you won't rest afterwards. And in any case you run a risk. My
+impression is that my suspicions will be verified before long, and
+that it will be seen only too plainly that this person is a grave
+public danger.'
+
+This was Sir William Braidwood. Lord Hailsham exclaimed:
+
+'That suggests something. What do you say, Trent, to our going
+to-morrow to pay our respects together?'
+
+The Duke smiled.
+
+'We should be odd associates. But I don't think that would matter. He
+knows that your opportunities have perhaps been small, and that your
+capacity is narrow. You might find a friend in Him after all. What a
+good thing it would be for you if you did!'
+
+Hailsham laughed outright.
+
+'Will you come?'
+
+'I think not, until He calls me. I shall meet Him face to face in His
+own good time.'
+
+Hailsham laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder.
+
+'Do you know, I'm inclined to ask myself if I haven't chanced upon a
+Christian after all. I didn't know there was such a thing. But I'm
+beginning to wonder. If you really are a Christian after His pattern,
+you've the best of it. If I'm right, I gain nothing. But if you're
+right, what don't I lose?'
+
+The young man said:
+
+'He knows.'
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 III
+
+                      The Passion of the People
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIX
+
+                        THE HUNT AND THE HOME
+
+
+Wherever that day the Stranger went, He was observed of the people.
+It had been stated in a newspaper that a lame man seemed to be His
+invariable companion. The fact that such an one did limp at His side
+served as a mark of recognition; also the charcoal-burner, still in
+the attire in which he plied his forest trade, was an unusual figure
+in a London street. Mr. Treadman, issuing from the house at Maida
+Vale, had been unable to penetrate the crowd which closed behind
+them, so that his vociferous proclamations of identity were absent.
+Still, such a trio moving together through the London streets were
+hardly likely to escape observation.
+
+Not that, for the most part, the Stranger's proceedings were marked
+by the unusual. He passed from street to street, looking at what
+was about Him, standing before the shops examining their contents,
+showing that sort of interest in His surroundings which denotes
+the visitor to town. Again and again He stopped to consider the
+passers-by, how they were as a continual stream.
+
+'They are so many, and among them are so few!'
+
+When He reached the top of Ludgate Hill, He looked up at St. Paul's
+Cathedral.
+
+'This is a great house which men have builded. Let us go in.'
+
+When they were in, He said:
+
+'The Lord is not absent from this house. It is sweet to enter the
+place where they call upon His Name. If He were in their hearts, and
+not only on their tongues!'
+
+A service was commencing. He joined the worshippers. There were many
+there that day who rejoiced exceedingly, although they knew not why.
+
+When the service was over, and they were out in the street again, He
+said:
+
+'It is good that the work of men's hands should be for the glory of
+God; yet if to build a house in His Name availed much, how full would
+the courts of heaven be. This He desires: a clean heart in a clean
+body; for where there is no sin He is. How does it profit a man to
+build unto God if he lives unto the world?'
+
+When they came into Cheapside people were flocking into the
+restaurants for their mid-day meal. He said:
+
+'Come, let us go with them; let us also eat.'
+
+Entering, food was brought to them. The place was full. There was one
+man who, as he went out, spoke to the proprietor:
+
+'That is the man of whom they are all talking. I know it. He
+frightens me.'
+
+'He frightens you! What has he done?'
+
+'It is not that he has done anything; it is that I dare not sit by
+him--I dare not. Let me go.'
+
+'Are you sure that it is he?'
+
+'I am very sure. Here is the money for what I have had--take it.
+Don't trouble about the change; only let me go.'
+
+The speaker rushed into the street like one flying from the wrath to
+come.
+
+There were those who had heard what he had said. Immediately it was
+whispered among them that He of whom such strange tales were told was
+in their very midst. Presently one said to the other:
+
+'My daughter is dying of consumption; I wonder if he could do
+anything to cure her.'
+
+A second said:
+
+'My wife's sick of a fever. It might be worth my while to see if he
+could save further additions to my doctor's bill.'
+
+A third:
+
+'I've a cousin who's deformed--can't do anything for himself--a
+burden on all his friends. Now, if he could be made like the rest of
+us, what a good thing it would be for everyone concerned!'
+
+A fourth:
+
+'My father's suffering from some sort of brain disease. It's not
+enough to enable us to declare him legally insane, but it's more than
+sufficient to cause him to let his business go to rack and ruin. We
+don't know where it will end if the thing goes on. If this worker of
+wonders could do anything to make the dad the man he used to be!'
+
+There were others who told similar tales. Soon they came to where He
+sat, each with his own petition. When he had heard them to an end, He
+said:
+
+'You ask always; what is it you give?'
+
+They were silent, for among them were not many givers. He said
+further:
+
+'He among you who loves God, his prayer shall be answered.' Yet they
+were still. 'Is there not one who loves Him?'
+
+One replied:
+
+'Among those whom you healed this morning, how many were there who,
+as you call it, love God? Yet you healed them.
+
+'Though I heal your bodies, your souls I cannot heal. As I said to
+them, I say to you: Go in peace, and sin no more.'
+
+They went out guiltily, as men whose consciences troubled them. It
+was told up and down the street that He was there. So that when He
+came out a crowd was gathered at the door. Some of those who had
+petitioned Him had proclaimed that He had refused their requests; for
+so they had interpreted His words. When He appeared one cried in the
+crowd:
+
+'Why didn't you heal them, like you did the others?'
+
+And another:
+
+'It seems easy enough, considering that you've only got to say a
+word.'
+
+A third:
+
+'Shame! Only a word, and he wouldn't say it.'
+
+As if under the inspiration of some malign influence, the crowd,
+showing sudden temper, pressed upon Him. Someone shook his fist in
+His face, mocking Him:
+
+'Go on! Go on back where you come from! We don't want you here!'
+
+A big man forced his way through the people. When he had reached the
+Stranger's side he turned upon them in a rage.
+
+'You blackguards, and worse than blackguards--you fools! What is it
+you think you are doing? This morning he healed a great crowd of
+things like you; you know it--you can't deny it. What does it matter
+who he is, or what he is? He has done you nothing but good, and in
+return what would you do to him? Shame upon you, shame!'
+
+They fell back before the speaker's fiery words and the menace which
+was in his bearing. The Stranger said:
+
+'Sir, your vehemence is great. You are not far from those that know
+Me.'
+
+The big man replied:
+
+'Whether I know you or whether I don't, I don't care to stand idly by
+when there are a hundred setting upon one. Besides, from all I hear,
+you've been doing great things for the sick and suffering, and the
+man who does that can always count upon me to lend him a hand.
+Though, mark my words, he who lays a crowd under an obligation is in
+danger. There is nothing to be feared so much as the gratitude of the
+many.'
+
+Police appearing, the crowd in part dispersed. The Stranger began to
+make His way along the pavement, the big man at His side. Still, many
+of the people went with them, who being joined by others, frequently
+blocked the way. Locomotion becoming difficult, a police sergeant
+approached the Stranger.
+
+'If you take my advice, sir, you'll get into a cab and drive off. We
+don't want to have any trouble with a lot like this, and I don't
+think we shall be able to stop them from following you without
+trouble.'
+
+The big man said:
+
+'Better do as the sergeant advises. Now that you have the reputation
+of working miracles, if you don't want to keep on reeling them off
+all day and all night too, you'd better take up your abode on the top
+of some inaccessible mountain, and conceal the fact that you are
+there. They'll make a raree-show of you if they can; and if they
+can't they'll perhaps turn ugly. Better let the sergeant call a cab--
+here are these idiots on to us again!'
+
+He turned into the crowd.
+
+'Let me go about My Father's business.'
+
+They remained where they were, and let Him go.
+
+But He had not gone far before He was perceived of others. It was
+told how He had performed another miracle by holding back the people
+at the Mansion House. Among the common sort there was at once a
+desire to see a further illustration of His powers. Throughout the
+afternoon they pressed upon Him more or less, sometimes fading away
+at the bidding of the police, sometimes swelling to an unwieldy
+throng. For the most part they pursued Him with shouts and cries.
+
+'Do something--go on! Show us a miracle! Stop us from coming any
+further! Let's see how you do it!'
+
+As the evening came He found Himself in a certain street in Islington
+where were private houses. The people pressed still closer; their
+cries grew louder, their importunity increasing because He gave them
+no heed. The police continually urged Him to call a cab and so
+escape. But He asked:
+
+'Where shall I go? In what place shall I hide? How shall I do My
+Father's business if I seek a burrow beneath the ground?'
+
+The constable replied:
+
+'That's no affair of ours. You can see for yourself that this sort of
+thing can't be allowed to go on. If it does, I shouldn't be surprised
+if we had to look you up for your own protection. They'll do you a
+mischief if you don't look out.'
+
+'What have I done to them, save healing those that were sick?'
+
+'I'm not here to answer such questions. All I know is some queer
+ideas are getting about the town. If you knew anything about a London
+mob, you'd understand that the less you had to do with it the
+better.'
+
+Someone called to the Stranger out of one of the little gardens which
+were in front of the houses.
+
+'Come in here, sir, come in here! don't stand on ceremony; give those
+rascals the slip.' The speaker came down to the gate, shouting at the
+people. 'A lot of cowards I call you--yes, a lot of dirty cowards!
+What has he done to you that you hound him about like this? Nothing,
+I'll be bound. If the police did their duty, they'd mow you down like
+grass.' He held the gate open. 'Come in, sir, come in! I can see by
+the look of you that you're an honest man; and it shan't be said that
+an honest man was chivied past George Kinloch's door by such scum as
+this without being offered shelter.'
+
+The Stranger said:
+
+'I thank you. I have here with Me two friends.'
+
+'Bring them along with you; I can find room for three.'
+
+The Stranger and His two disciples entered the gate. As they passed
+into the house the people groaned; there were cat-calls and cries of
+scorn. Mr. Kinloch, standing on his doorstep, shouted back at them:
+
+'You clamouring curs! It is such creatures as you that disgrace
+humanity, and make one ashamed of being a man. Back to your kennels!
+herd with your kind! gloat on the offal that you love!' To the
+Stranger he exclaimed: 'I must apologise to you, sir, for the
+behaviour of these vagabonds. As a fellow-citizen of theirs, I feel I
+owe you an apology. I've no notion what you've done to offend them,
+but I'm pretty sure that the right is on your side.'
+
+'I have done nothing, except heal some that were sick.'
+
+'Heal some that were sick? Why, you don't mean to say---- Are you he
+of whom all the world is talking? Ada! Nella! Lily!' The three whom
+he called came hastening. 'Here is he of whom we were speaking. It is
+he whom that swarm of riff-raff has been chivying. Bid him welcome!
+Sir, I am glad to have you for a guest, though only for a little.'
+
+When He had washed and made ready He found them assembled in the best
+room of the house. The lamps were lit, the curtains drawn; within was
+peace. But through the window came the voices of the people in the
+street. Mr. Kinloch did his utmost to entertain his guest with
+conversation.
+
+'These are my three daughters, as you have probably supposed. Their
+mother is dead.'
+
+'I know their mother.'
+
+'You knew her? Indeed! When and where? It must have been before she
+was married, because I don't seem to recognise your face.'
+
+'I knew her before she was married, and after, and I know her now.'
+
+'Now? My dear sir, she's dead!'
+
+'Such as she do not die.'
+
+Mr. Kinloch stared. The girl Ada touched him on the arm:
+
+'Mother is in heaven; do you not understand?' She went with her
+sisters and stood before Him. 'It is so good to look upon Your face.'
+
+'You have seen it from of old.'
+
+'Then darkly, not as now, in the light.'
+
+'Would that all the world saw Me in the light as you do! Then would
+My Father's brightness shine out upon all men, as does the sun. But
+yet they love the darkness rather than the light.'
+
+Mr. Kinloch inquired, being puzzled:
+
+'What is this? Have you met this gentleman before? Is he a friend of
+yours as well as of your mother's? I thought I knew something of all
+your acquaintance. I've always tried to make a rule of doing so. How
+comes it that you womenfolk have had a friend of whom I've been told
+nothing?'
+
+Ada replied to his question with another.
+
+'Father, do you not know Christ?'
+
+'My dear girl, don't speak to me as if you were one of those women
+who go about with tracts in their hands! Haven't I always observed
+your mother's wishes, and seen that you went regularly to church?
+What do you mean by addressing your father as if he were a heathen?'
+
+'This is Christ.'
+
+'This? Girl, this is a man!'
+
+'Father, have you forgotten that Christ was made man?'
+
+'Yes, but that--that's some time ago.'
+
+'He is made man again. Don't you understand?'
+
+'No, I don't. Sir, I'm not what you might call very intellectual, and
+it's taken me all my time to find the means to bring these girls up
+as young women ought to be brought up. I suppose it's because I'm
+stupid, but, while I'll write myself down a Christian with any man,
+there's a lot of mystery about religion which is beyond my
+comprehension. There's a deal about you in the papers. I'm told
+you've been doing a wonderful amount of good to many who were beyond
+the reach of human help. For that I say, God bless you!'
+
+The Stranger said: 'Amen.'
+
+'At the same time there's much that is being said which I don't
+understand. I don't know who you are, or what you are, except that
+it's pretty clear to me that a man who has been doing what you have
+can't be very far from heaven; and if I ought to know, I'm sorry. God
+gave me a good wife, and she gave me three daughters who are like
+her. She's in heaven--I don't need anyone to tell me that; and if
+they'll only let her know, when they meet her among the angels, that
+I loved her while I'd breath, so long as she and they have all they
+want for ever and for ever, I don't care what God thinks it right to
+do with me. The end and aim of my life has been to make my wife and
+her children happy. If they're happy in heaven I'll be happy, too.
+That's a kind of happiness of which it will not be easy to deprive
+me, no matter where I am.'
+
+'You are nearer to Me than you think.'
+
+'Am I? We'll hope so. I like you; I like your looks; I like your
+voice; I like your ways; I like what you have brought into the house
+with you--it's a sort of a kind of peace. As Ada says--she knows; God
+tells that girl things which perhaps I'm too stupid to be told--it's
+good to look upon your face. Whatever happens in the time to come, I
+never shall be sorry that I've had a chance to see it.'
+
+'You never shall.'
+
+A voice louder than the rest was heard shouting in the street:
+
+'Show us another miracle!'
+
+Ada said:
+
+'You hear that? Why, father, I do believe that a miracle is beginning
+to be worked in you!'
+
+She smiled at him. He took her in his arms and kissed her.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX
+
+                  THEY THAT WOULD ASK WITH A THREAT
+
+
+There was a meeting of Universalists. This was a society whose
+meeting-place was in Soho. It called itself a club, using the word in
+a sense of its own, for anyone was admitted to its membership who
+chose to join; and, as a rule, all comers, whether members or not,
+were free to attend its meetings. It was a focus for discontent. To
+it came from all parts of the world the discontented, examples of
+that huge concourse which has a grudge against what is called
+Society--not of the silent part, which is in the majority, but of
+that militant section whose constant endeavour it is to goad the dumb
+into speech, in the hope and trust that the distance between speech
+and action will not be great.
+
+The place was packed. There were women there as well as
+men--young and old--representatives of most of the nations which
+describe themselves as civilised; their common bond a common misery.
+The talk was old. But in the atmosphere that night was something new.
+Bellows had given vitality to the embers which smouldered in their
+hearts.
+
+Henry Walters was speaking. They listened to him with a passionate
+eagerness which suggested how alluring was the dream which he
+proposed to wrest out of the arena of visions.
+
+'I said to a policeman as I was coming in that I believed we were
+going to have our turn. He laughed. The police have had all the
+laughing. We'll laugh soon. We've been looking for a miracle,
+recognising that a miracle was the only thing that could help us. The
+arrival of a worker of miracles is a new factor in the situation with
+which the police, and all they represent, will have to reckon. It's
+just possible that they mayn't find him an easy reckoning. He who can
+raise a woman from the dead with a word can just as easily turn
+London upside down, and the police with it.
+
+'We've heard of taking the kingdom of heaven by violence. I believe
+that it has been recommended by high authorities as a desirable
+method of procedure. I propose to try it. I propose we go to-morrow
+morning to this worker of miracles, saying: "You see how our wrongs
+ascend as a dense smoke unto Heaven. Put an end to them, so that they
+may cease to be an offence unto God." He has shown that he has bowels
+of compassion. I believe, if we put this plainly to him, with all the
+force that is in us, that the greatest of his miracles will be worked
+for us. If he will heal the sick, he will heal us; for we are sick
+unto more than death, since our pains have dragged us unto the gates
+of hell.
+
+'The fashion of the healing we had better leave to him. Let us but
+point out that we come into the court of his justice asking for our
+rights; if he will give us what is ours we need not trouble about the
+manner of the giving. Let us but remind him that in the sight of God
+all men are equal; if he restores to us our equality, what does it
+matter how he does it? For the substance let the shadow go. But on so
+much we must insist; we must have the substance. We must be healed of
+our diseases, cured of our sores, relieved of our infirmities. If our
+just prayer is quickly heard, good. If not, the kingdom of heaven
+must be taken by violence, and shall be, if we are men and women. How
+are we profited, though miracles are worked for others, if none are
+worked for us? We stand most in need of the miraculous--none could
+come into this room, and see us, and deny it!--and we'll have it, or
+we'll know the reason why. He can scarcely smite us more heavily than
+we are already smitten. I wish to use no threats. I trust no one else
+will use them. I'm hopeful, since he has shown that he has sympathy
+for suffering, that he'll show sympathy for our sufferings. But--I
+say it not as a threat, but as a plain statement of a plain fact--if
+he won't do his best for us, we'll do our worst to him. God grant,
+however, that at last a Saviour has come to us in very deed!'
+
+When Walters stopped a score of persons sprang to their feet. The
+chairman called upon a German, one Hans Kuentz, wild, lean, unkempt,
+with something of frenzy in his air. He spoke English with a
+volubility which was only mastered by an occasional idiom; in a thin
+falsetto voice which was like a continuous shriek.
+
+'I am hungry; that is not new. In the two small rooms where I live I
+have a wife and children who are also hungry; that also is not new. I
+run the risk of becoming more hungry by coming out to-night, and
+leaving work that must be finished by the morning. But when I hear
+that there is come to London one who can raise people from the dead,
+I say to my wife: "Then He can raise us too." My wife says: "Go and
+see." So to see I am come. With Mr. Walters I say, Let us all go and
+see--all, all that great London which when it works starves slowly,
+and when it does not work starves fast. We need not speak. We need
+but show Him our faces, how the skin but covers our bones. If he is
+not a devil, he will do to us what he has done to others: he will
+heal us and make us free. What I fear is that it is exaggerated what
+he has done--I have got beyond the region of hope. But if it is true,
+if but the half of it is true--if this morning he healed that crowd
+of people with a word, why should he not do the same to us? Why? Why?
+Did they deserve more than we? Are our needs not greater? We are the
+victims of others' sins. We are the slaves who sow, and reap, and
+garner, and yet are only suffered to eat the husks of the great
+stores of grain for which we give our lives. Surely this healer of
+the sick will give us a chance to live as men should live, and to
+die, when our time comes, as men should die! Oh, my brothers, if God
+has come among us He'll know! He'll know! And if He is a God of
+mercy, a God of love, and not a Siva, a destroyer, who delights in
+the groans and cries of bruised and broken hearts and lives, we have
+but to make to Him our petition, and He'll wipe the tears out of our
+eyes. To-night it is late, but in the morning, early, let us all go
+to Him--all! all!--all go!'
+
+Out of the throng who were eager to speak next a woman was chosen--
+middle-aged, decently dressed, with fair hair and quiet eyes. Her
+voice was low, yet distinct, her manner calm, her language
+restrained, her bearing judicial rather than argumentative.
+
+'Brothers Kuentz and Walters seem to take it for granted that the God
+of the Christians is a God of love. I thought so when I was a child;
+I know better now. The idea seems to be supported in the present case
+by the fact that the person of whom we have heard so much has done
+works of healing, of mercy. It is not clear that, in all cases, to
+heal is to be merciful. Apart from that consideration, I would point
+out that the works in question have been spasmodic rather than
+continuous, the fruits, apparently, of momentary whims rather than of
+a settled policy. This afternoon his assistance was invited in
+similar cases. He declined. The crowd continually entreated him to do
+unto them as he had done unto others. Their requests were
+persistently ignored. It is plain, therefore, that one has not only
+to ask to receive. Nor is any attempt made to differentiate between
+the justice of contending claims. If this person is Divine, which I,
+personally, take leave to more than doubt, he is irresponsible. His
+actions are dependent on the mood of the moment.
+
+'I am not saying this with any desire to throw cold water on the
+proposition which has been made to us. On the contrary, I think the
+suggestion that we should go to him in a body--as large a body as
+possible--and request his good offices on our behalf, an excellent
+one. At the same time, I cannot lose sight of one fact: that it is
+one thing to pray; to receive a satisfactory answer--or, indeed, an
+answer of any sort to one's prayer--is quite another. In our childish
+days we have prayed, believing, in vain. In the acuter agonies of our
+later years prayers have been wrung from us--always, still, in vain.
+There seems no adequate reason why, in the present case, we should
+pin our faith to the efficacy of prayer alone. The disease has always
+existed. Why should we suppose that the remedy has become accessible
+to whoever chooses to ask for it? If this person is Divine, he knows
+what we suffer; has always known, yet has done nothing. We are told
+that God is unchangeable, the same for ever and ever. The history of
+the world sustains this theory, inasmuch as it has always been
+replete with human suffering. That, therefore, disposes of any notion
+that it is at all likely that he has suddenly become sensitive to
+mere cries of pain.
+
+'I would lay stress on one word which Brother Walters used more than
+once: violence. We are confronted with an opportunity which may never
+recur, and may vanish if not used quickly. Here is a person who has
+done remarkable things. The presumption is that he can do other
+remarkable things for us, if he chooses. He must be made to choose.
+That is the position.
+
+'Let us clear our minds of cant. We are going to him with a good
+case. The reality of our grievances, the justice of our claims, he
+scarcely will be prepared to deny. Still, you will find him unwilling
+to do anything for us. Probably, assuming an air of Divine
+irresponsibility, he will decline to listen, or to discuss our case
+at all. Such is my own conviction. There will be a general rush for
+him to-morrow. All sorts and conditions of people will have an axe of
+their own to grind. In the confusion, ours will be easily and
+conveniently ignored. Therefore, I say, we must go in as large a body
+as possible, force him to give us an interview, compel him to accede
+to our request--that is, speak for us the same kind of word which he
+spoke for those sick people this morning. If he strikes us dead,
+he'll do himself no good and us no harm, for many of us would sooner
+be dead than as we are. Unless he does strike us dead we ought to
+stick to him until we have wrung from him our desire. It is possible
+that this is a case in which resolution may succeed. At the worst, in
+our plight, with everything to gain, and nothing--nothing--to lose,
+the attempt is one which is worth making, on the understanding that
+we will not take no for an answer, but will use all possible means to
+win a yes. We must make it as plain as it can be made that, if he
+will do nothing for us, he shall do nothing for others, at least on
+earth. What does it matter to us who enters heaven if the door is
+slammed in our faces?'
+
+The next speaker was a man in corduroy trousers and a jacket and
+waistcoat which had once been whity-gray. He wore a cloth cap, and
+round his throat an old red handkerchief. His eyes moved uneasily
+in his head; when they were at rest they threatened. His face was
+clean-shaven, his voice husky. While he spoke, he kept his hands in
+his trousers pockets and his cap on his head. He plunged at once into
+the heart of what he had to say.
+
+'I was one of them as shouted out this afternoon, "Show us a
+miracle!" And I was down at Maida Vale this morning, almost
+on top of them poor creatures as was more dead than alive. He just
+came out of the house, said two or three words, though what they was
+I couldn't catch, and there they was as right as if there'd never
+been nothing the matter with 'em, running about like you and me. And
+yet when I asked him to do something for me, though it'd have only
+cost him a word to do it--not he! He just walked on. I'm broke to the
+wide. Tuppence I've had since yesterday--not two bob this week. What
+I wanted was something to eat--just enough to keep me going till I'd
+a chance of a job. But though he done that this morning--and some
+queer ones there was among the crowd, I tell you!--he wouldn't pay
+attention to me, wouldn't even listen. What I want to know is, Why
+not? And that's what I mean to know before I've done.'
+
+The sentiment met with approval. There were sympathetic murmurs. He
+was not the only hungry man in that audience.
+
+'I'm in trouble--had the influenza, or whatever they call it, and
+lost my job. Never had one since. Jobs ain't easy found by blokes
+what seems dotty on their pins. My wife's in gaol--as honest a woman
+as ever lived; she'd have wore herself to the bone for me. Landlord
+wanted his rent; we hadn't a brown; I was down on my back; she didn't
+want me turned out into the street while I was like that, so she went
+and pawned some shirts what she'd got to iron. They gave her three
+months for it. She'd done two of 'em last Monday. Kid died last week
+and was buried by the parish. Gawd knows what she'll say when she
+hears of it when she comes out. Altogether I seem fairly off my
+level. So I say what the lady afore me says: Let's all go to him in
+the morning, and get him to understand how it is with us, and get him
+to say a word as'll do us good. And if he won't, why, as she says,
+we'll make him! That's all.'
+
+There was no chance of choosing a successor from among the numerous
+volunteers. A man who seemed just insane enough to be dangerous chose
+himself. He broke into a vehement flood of objurgation, writhing and
+gesticulating as if desirous of working himself into a greater frenzy
+than he was in already. He had not been on his feet a minute before
+he had brought a large portion of his audience into a similar
+condition to himself.
+
+'Make him, make him! That's the keynote. Share and share alike,
+that's our motto. No favouritism! The world stinks of favouritism;
+we'll have no more of it from him. We'll let him know it. What he
+does for one he must do for all. If he were to come into this room
+this minute, and were to help half of us, it would be the duty of all
+of us to go for him because he'd left the other half unhelped. He's
+been healing, has he? Who? Somebody. Not us. Why not us as well as
+them? He's got to give us what we want just as he gave them what they
+want, if we have to take him by the throat to take it out of him!'
+
+'We will that!'
+
+'Only got to say a word, has he, and the trick's done? Then he shall
+say that word for us, as he has for others, if we have to drag his
+tongue out by the roots to get at it!'
+
+'That's it--that's the way to talk!'
+
+'Work a miracle, can he, every time he opens his mouth? Then he shall
+work the miracles we want, or, by the living God, he shall never work
+another!'
+
+The words were greeted with a chorus of approving shouts. The fellow
+screamed on. As his ravings grew worse, the excitement of his
+auditors waxed greater. Buffeted all their lives, as it seemed to
+them, by adverse winds, they were incapable of realising that they
+were in any way the victims of their own bad seamanship. For that
+incapacity, perhaps, they were not entirely to blame. They did not
+make themselves. That they should have been fashioned out of such
+poor materials was not the least of their misfortunes.
+
+And their pains and griefs, humiliations and defeats, had been so
+various and so many that it was not strange that their wit had been
+abraded to the snapping-point; the more especially since it had been
+of such poor quality at first.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXI
+
+                              THE ASKING
+
+
+In the morning the thoughts of England were turned towards that house
+in Islington: and no small number of its people were on their way to
+it. The newspapers besieged it with their representatives--on a
+useless quest, though their columns did not lack news on that
+account. Throughout the night the crowd increased in the street. The
+authorities began to be concerned. They acted as if the occasion of
+public interest was a fire. Placing a strong cordon of police at
+either end of the road, they made of it a private thoroughfare; only
+persons with what were empirically regarded as credentials were
+permitted to pass. Only after considerable hesitation was sickness
+allowed to be a passport. When it was officially decided to admit the
+physically suffering an extraordinary scene began to be enacted. It
+almost seemed as if all the hospitals and sick-rooms of London had
+been emptied of their occupants. They came in an unceasing stream.
+The police displayed their wonted skill in the management of the
+amazing crowd. Those who had been brought on beds were placed in the
+front ranks; those on chairs next; those who could stand, though only
+with the aid of crutches, at the back. The people had to be forced
+farther and farther away to make room for the sick that came; and yet
+before it was full day admission had to be refused to any more--every
+foot of available ground was occupied.
+
+There were doctors present, some of whom were dissatisfied with the
+turn matters were taking. Perceiving, perhaps, that if it continued
+their occupation would be gone, they represented to the police that
+if certain of the sufferers did not receive immediate attention they
+might die. So that at an early hour their chief, Colonel Hardinge,
+who had just arrived, knocked at Mr. Kinloch's door. Ada opened.
+
+'I understand that he whom these unfortunate people have come to see
+is at present in this house.'
+
+'The Lord is in this house.'
+
+'Quite so. We won't quarrel about description. The fact is, I'm told
+that if something isn't done for these poor creatures at once,
+they'll die. So, with your permission, I'll see the--er--person.'
+
+'It is not with my permission, but with His. He is the Lord. When He
+wishes to see you, well. He does not wish to see you now.'
+
+She shut the door in the Colonel's face.
+
+'That's an abrupt young lady!'
+
+This he said to the doctors and other persons who were standing at
+the gate. Among them was Sir William Braidwood, who replied:
+
+'I don't know that she isn't right.'
+
+'It's all very well for you to talk like that, but what am I to do?
+You tell me with one breath that if something isn't done people will
+die, and with another that because I try to get something done I
+merit a snubbing.'
+
+'Exactly. This isn't a public institution; the girl has a right to
+resent your treating it as if it were. These people oughtn't to be
+here at all. Those who are responsible for some of them ought to be
+made to stand their trial for murder. This person, whoever he is, has
+promised nothing. They have not the slightest claim upon him. They
+are here as a pure speculation. Your men are to blame for allowing
+them to assemble in such a fashion, not the girl who endeavours to
+protect her guest from intrusion.'
+
+Someone called out from the crowd:
+
+'Ain't he coming, sir? I'm fair finished, I am--been here six hours.
+I'm clean done up.'
+
+'What right have you to be there at all? You ought to be at home in
+bed.'
+
+'I've come to be healed.'
+
+'Come to be healed! I suppose if you want a hatful of money, you
+think you've only got to ask for it. You've no right to be here.'
+
+Murmurs arose--cries, prayers, stifled execrations. An inspector said
+to his chief:
+
+'If something isn't done, sir, I fancy there'll be trouble. Our men
+have difficulty in keeping order as it is. Half London must be here,
+and they're coming faster than ever. There's an ugly spirit about,
+and some ugly customers. If it becomes known that nothing is going to
+be done for these poor wretches, I don't know what will happen. How
+we are going to get them safely away is more than I can guess.'
+
+'You hear what Sir William Braidwood says.'
+
+'Begging Sir William's pardon, it's a choice of evils, and if I were
+you, sir, I should try again. They can't refuse to let you see this
+person. Not that I suppose he can do what they think he can, but
+still there you are.'
+
+'He can do it.'
+
+'With a word?'
+
+'With a word.'
+
+'Then he ought to.'
+
+'Why? I can give you a thousand pounds with a word. But why ought I
+to?'
+
+'That's different.'
+
+'You'll find that a large number of people don't think it's
+different. These people want the gift of health; others in the crowd
+there want the gift of wealth. I dare wager there's no form of want
+which is not represented in that eager, greedy, lustful multitude.
+The excuse is common to them all: he can give it with a word. I am of
+your opinion, there will be trouble; because so many persons
+misunderstand the situation.'
+
+Colonel Hardinge arrived at a decision:
+
+'I think I will have another try. We can't have these people here all
+day, so if he won't have anything to do with them, the sooner they
+are cleared out of this, the better. What I have to do is to find out
+how it's going to be.'
+
+He knocked again. This time the door was opened by Mr. Kinloch, who
+at once broke into voluble speech.
+
+'It was you who came just now; what do you mean by coming again?
+What's the meaning of these outrageous proceedings? Can't I have a
+guest in my house without being subjected to this abominable
+nuisance?'
+
+'I grant the nuisance, but would point out to you, sir, that we are
+the victims of it as well as you. If you will permit me to see your
+guest I will explain to him the position in a very few words. On his
+answer will depend our action.'
+
+'My guest desires to be private; I must insist upon his privacy being
+respected. My daughter has been speaking to him. She tells me that he
+says that he has nothing to do with these people, and that they have
+nothing to do with him.'
+
+'If that is the case, and that is really what he says, and I am to
+take it for an answer, then the matter is at an end.'
+
+Ada's voice was heard at the back.
+
+'Father, the Lord is coming.'
+
+The Stranger came to the door. In a moment the Colonel's hat was in
+his hand.
+
+'I beg a thousand pardons, sir, for what I cannot but feel is an
+intrusion; but the fact is, these foolish people have got it into
+their heads that they have only to ask you, and you will restore them
+to health. Am I to understand, and to give them to understand, that
+in so thinking they are under an entire delusion?'
+
+'I will speak to them.'
+
+The Stranger stood upon the doorstep. When they saw Him they began to
+press against each other, crying:
+
+'Heal us! Heal us!'
+
+'Why should I heal you?'
+
+There was a momentary silence. Then someone said:
+
+'Because you healed those others.'
+
+'What they have you desire. It is so with you always. You cry to Me
+continually, Give! give! What is it you have given Me?'
+
+The same voice replied:
+
+'We have nothing to give.'
+
+'You come to Me with a lie upon your lips.'
+
+The fellow threw up his arms, crying:
+
+'Lord! Lord! have mercy on me, Lord!'
+
+He answered:
+
+'Those among you that have given Me aught, though it is never so
+little, they shall be healed.' No one spoke or moved. 'Behold how
+many are the cheerful givers! I come not to give, but to receive. I
+seek My own, and find it not. All men desire something, offering
+nothing. This great city, knowing Me not, asks Me continually for
+what I have to give. Though I gave all it craves, it would be still
+farther off from heaven. It prizes not that which it has, but covets
+that which is another's, hating it because it is his. Return whence
+you came; cleanse your bodies; purify your hearts; think not always
+of yourselves; lift up your eyes; seek continually the knowledge of
+God. When you know Him but a thousandth part as He knows you, you
+need ask Him nothing, for He will give you all that you desire.'
+
+With that He returned into the house.
+
+When they saw Him go an outcry at once arose.
+
+'Is that all? Only talk? Why, any parson could pitch a better yarn
+than that! Isn't He going to do anything? Isn't He going to heal us?
+What, not after healing those people yesterday at Maida Vale, and
+after our coming all this way and waiting all this time?'
+
+The rougher sort who could use their limbs began to press forward
+towards the house, forcing down those who were weaker, many of whom
+filled the air with their cries and groans and curses. The police did
+their best to stem the confusion.
+
+There came along the avenue on the pavement which the police had kept
+open Henry Walters and certain of his friends. They were escorted by
+a sergeant, who saluted Colonel Hardinge.
+
+'This man Walters wants to see the person all the talk's about. There
+are a lot of his friends in the crowd, and rather than have any fuss
+I thought I'd let them come.'
+
+'Right, sergeant. Mr. Walters is at liberty to see this person if
+this person is disposed to see him, which I'm rather inclined to
+doubt.'
+
+'We'll see about that,' muttered Walters to his companions, as with
+them he hurried up the steps.
+
+At the top he paused, regarding the poor wretches struggling
+fatuously in the street.
+
+'That looks promising for us. So he won't heal them. Why? No reason
+given, I suppose. I dare say he won't heal us; for the same reason.
+Well, we'll see. Mind you shut the front door when we go in. I rather
+fancy we shall want some persuasion before we see the logic of such a
+reason as that.'
+
+The door was closed as he suggested. In the hall he was met by Ada.
+
+'What is it that you want?'
+
+'You know very well what it is. We want a few words with the stranger
+who is in this house.'
+
+'It is the Lord!'
+
+'Very well. We want a few words with the Lord.'
+
+'You cannot enter His presence uninvited.'
+
+'Can't we? I think you are mistaken. Is He in that room? Stand aside
+and let me see.'
+
+'You may not pass.'
+
+'Don't be silly. We're in no mood for manners. Will you move, or must
+I make you? Do you hear? Come away.'
+
+He laid his hand upon the girl's shoulder. As he did so the Stranger
+stood in the open door. When they saw Him, and perceived how in
+silence He regarded them, they drew a little back, as if perplexed.
+Then Walters spoke:
+
+'I'm told that you are Christ.'
+
+'What has Christ to do with you, or you with Christ?'
+
+'That's not an answer to my question. However, without entering into
+the question of who you are, it seems that you can work wonders when
+you choose.'
+
+There was a pause as if for a reply. The Stranger was still, so
+Walters went on.
+
+'We represent a number of persons who are as the sands of the sea for
+multitude, the victims of man's injustice and of God's.'
+
+'With God there is no injustice.'
+
+'That is your opinion. We won't argue the point; it's not ours. We
+come to plead the cause of myriads of people who have never known
+happiness from the day they were born. Some of them toil early and
+late for a beggarly wage; many of them are denied the opportunity of
+even doing that. They have tried every legitimate means of bettering
+their condition. They have hoped long, striven often, always to be
+baffled. Their brother men press them back into the mire, and tread
+them down in it. We suggest that their case is worthy your
+consideration. Their plight is worse to-day than it ever was; they
+lack everything. Health some of them never had; they came into the
+world under conditions which rendered it impossible. Most of them who
+had it have lost it long ago. Society compels them to live lives in
+which health is a thing unknown. Their courage has been sapped by
+continuous failure. Hope is dead. Joy they never knew. Misery is
+their one possession. Under these circumstances you will perceive
+that if you desire to do something for them it will not be difficult
+to find something which should be done.'
+
+Another pause; still no reply.
+
+'We do not wish to cumber you with suggestions; we only ask you to do
+something. It will be plain to your sense of justice that there could
+be no fitter subjects for benevolence. Yet all that we request of you
+is to be just. You are showering gifts broadcast. Be just; give also
+something to them to whom nothing ever has been given. I have the
+pleasure to await your answer.'
+
+He answered nothing.
+
+'What are we to understand by your silence?--that you lack the power,
+or the will? We ask you, with all possible courtesy, for an answer.
+Courtesy useless? Still nothing? There is a limit even to our
+civility. Understand, also, that we mean to have an answer--somehow.'
+
+Ada touched him on the arm, whispering:
+
+'It is the Lord!'
+
+'Is he a friend of yours?'
+
+'He is a Friend of all the world.'
+
+'It doesn't look like it at present, though we hope to find it the
+case before we've finished. Come, sir! You hear what this young lady
+says of you. We're waiting to hear how you propose to show that
+you're a friend of that great host of suffering souls on whose behalf
+we've come to plead to you.'
+
+Yet He was still. Walters turned to his associates.
+
+'You see how it is? It's as I expected, as was foreseen last night.
+If we want anything, we've got to take the kingdom of heaven by
+violence. Are we going to take it, or are we going to sneak away with
+our tails between our legs?'
+
+The woman answered who had spoken at the meeting the night before--
+the fair-haired woman, with the soft voice and quiet eyes:
+
+'We are going to take it.' She went close to the Stranger. 'Answer
+the question which has been put to you.' When He continued silent,
+she struck Him on the cheek with her open palm, saying: 'Coward!'
+
+Ada came rushing forward with her father and her sisters. With a
+movement of His hand He kept them back. Walters applauded the woman's
+action.
+
+'That's right--for a beginning; but he'll want more than that. Let me
+talk to him.' He occupied the woman's place. 'We've nothing to lose.
+You may strike us dead; we may as well be dead as living the sort of
+life with which we are familiar; it is a living death. I defy you to
+cast us into a worse hell than that in which we move all day and
+every day. If you are Christ, you have a chance of winning more
+adherents than were ever won for you by all the preaching through all
+the ages, and with a few words. If you are man, we will make you king
+over all the earth, and all the world will cry with one heart and one
+voice: "God save the King!" And whether you are Christ or man, every
+heart will be filled with your praises, and night and morning old and
+young will call with blessings on your name. Is not that a prospect
+pleasing even unto God? And all this for the utterance of perhaps a
+dozen words. That is one side of the shield. Does it not commend
+itself to you? I ask you for an answer.
+
+'None? Still dumb? I'll show you something of the other side. If you
+are resolute to shut your ears to our cries, and your eyes to our
+misery, we'll crucify you again. Don't think that those police
+outside will help you, or anything of that sort, because you'll be
+nursing a delusion. You'll be crucified by a world in arms. When it
+is known that with a word you can dry the tears that are in men's
+eyes, and yet refuse to utter it--when that is generally known, it
+will be sufficient. For it will have been clearly demonstrated that
+you must be a monster of whom the world must be rid at all and any
+cost. Given such a capacity, none but a monster would refuse to
+exercise it. And the fact that, according to some narrow code of
+scholastic reasoning, you may be a faultless monster will make the
+fact worse, not better. For faultlessness of that sort is in
+continual, cruel, crushing opposition to poor, weak, human nature.
+Now will you give me an answer?'
+
+When none came, and His glance continued fixed upon the other's face
+with a strange, unfaltering intensity, Walters went still closer.
+
+'Shall I shake the answer out of you?' Putting up his hand, he took
+the Stranger by the throat; and when He offered no resistance, began
+to shake Him to and fro. Ada, running forward, struck at Walters with
+so much force that, taken by surprise, he let the Stranger go. She
+cried:
+
+'It is the Lord! It is the Lord!'
+
+'What is that to us? Why doesn't he speak when he's spoken to? Is he
+a wooden block? You take care what you do, my girl. You'd be better
+employed in inducing your friend to answer us. Lord or no Lord.
+There'd be no trouble if he'd treat us like creatures of flesh and
+blood. If he'd a spark of feeling in his breast, he'd recognise that
+the very pitifulness of our condition--our misery, our despair!--
+entitles us to something more than the brand of his scornful silence;
+he'd at least answer yes or no unto our prayers.'
+
+Ada wept as if her heart would break, sobbing out from amidst her
+grief:
+
+'It is the Christ! It is the Lord Christ!'
+
+Her father, forcing his way to the front door, had summoned
+assistance. A burly sergeant came marching in.
+
+'What's the matter here? Oh, Mr. Walters, it's you! You're not wanted
+in here. Out you go--all of you. If you take my advice you'll go
+home, and you'll get your friends to go home too. There'll be some
+trouble if you don't take care!'
+
+'Go home? Sergeant, you see that Man? Have you anywhere a tender
+place? Is there any little thing which, if you had it, would make
+your life brighter and more worth the living? That Man, by the
+utterance of a word, can make of your life one long, glad song; give
+you everything you are righteously entitled to deserve; so they tell
+me. Go home to the kennels in which we herd when the Christ who has
+come to release us from our bondage will not move a finger, or do
+aught to loose our bonds, but, seeing how we writhe in them, stands
+mutely by? No, sergeant. We'll not go home till we've had a reckoning
+with Him.'
+
+He stretched out his arm, pointing at the Stranger.
+
+'I'll meet you at another Calvary. You've crucified me and mine
+through the ages, and would crucify us still, finding it a royal
+sport at which it were blasphemy to cavil. Beware lest, in return,
+you yourself are not crucified again.'
+
+When Walters and his associates had gone, the sergeant said,
+addressing the Stranger:
+
+'I'm only doing my duty in telling you that the sooner you clear out
+of this, the better it'll be for everyone concerned. You're getting
+yourself disliked in a way which may turn out nasty for you, in spite
+of anything we can do. There's half a dozen people dead out in the
+street because of you, and there's worse to come, so take my tip and
+get out the back way somewhere. Find a new address, and when you have
+found it keep it to yourself. We don't want to have London turned
+upside down for anyone, no matter who it is.'
+
+The sergeant went. And then words came from the Stranger's lips, as
+if they had been wrung from His heart; for the sweat stood on His
+brow:
+
+'Father, is it, then, for this that I am come to the children that
+call upon My Name in this great city, where on every hand are
+churches built for men to worship Christ? What is this idol which
+they have fashioned, calling it after My Name, so that wherever I go
+I find a Christ which is not Me? Lord! Lord! they cry; and when the
+Lord comes they say, It is not you we called, but another. They deny
+Me to My face. The things I would they know not. In their blindness,
+knowing nothing, they would be gods unto themselves, making of You a
+plaything, the servant of their wills. As of old, they know not what
+they do. Aforetime, by God's chosen people was I nailed unto a tree.
+Am I again to suffer shame at the hands of those that call themselves
+My children? Yet, Father, let it be so if it is Your will.'
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII
+
+                          A SEMINARY PRIEST
+
+
+In the street was riot; confusion which momentarily threatened to
+become worse confounded. In the press were dignitaries of the Church;
+that Archbishop whom we met at dinner; Cardinal De Vere, whose grace
+of bearing ornaments the Roman establishment in England; with him a
+young seminary priest, one Father Nevill. The two high clerics were
+on a common errand. Their carriages encountering each other on the
+outskirts of the crowd, they had accepted the services of a friendly
+constable, who offered to pilot them through the excited people. At
+his heels they came, scarcely in the ecclesiastical state which their
+dignity desired.
+
+As they neared the house they were met by the departing Mr. Walters
+and his friends. Recognising who they were, Walters stopped to shout
+at them in his stentorian tones:
+
+'So the High Priests have come! To do reverence to their Master? To
+prostrate themselves at His feet in the dust, or to play the patron?
+To you, perhaps, He'll condescend; with these who, in their misery,
+trample each other under foot He'll have no commerce; has not even a
+word with which to answer them. But you, Archbishop and Cardinal,
+Princes of His Most Holy Church, perhaps He'll have a hand for each
+of you. For to those that have shall be given, and from those that
+have not shall be taken away. He'll hardly do violence to that most
+excellent Christian doctrine. Tell Him how much you have that should
+be other men's; maybe He'll strip them of their skins to give you
+more.'
+
+The constable thrust him aside.
+
+'Move on, there! move on! That's enough of that nonsense!'
+
+'Oh yes,' said Walters, as they forced him back into the seething
+throng; 'oh yes, one soon has enough of nonsense of that kind. Christ
+has come! God help us all!'
+
+On the steps that led up to the door a woman fought with the police.
+She was as a mad thing, screaming in her agony:
+
+'Let me see Christ! Let me see Him! My daughter's dead! I brought her
+to be healed; she's been killed in the crowd; I want Him to bring her
+back to life. Let me see Christ! Let me see Him!'
+
+They would not. Lifting her off her feet, they bore her back among
+the people.
+
+'What a terrible scene!' murmured the Archbishop. 'What lamentable
+and dangerous excitement!'
+
+'You represent a Church, my dear Archbishop,' replied the Cardinal,
+'which advocates the freedom of private judgment. These proceedings
+suggest that your advocacy may have met with even undesired success.'
+
+The Archbishop, looking about him with dubious glances, said to the
+policeman who had constituted himself their guide:
+
+'This sort of thing almost makes one physically anxious. The people
+seem to be half beside themselves.'
+
+'You may well say that, my lord. I never saw a crowd in such a mood
+before; and I've seen a few. I hear they've sent for the soldiers.'
+
+'The soldiers? Dear, dear! how infinitely sad!'
+
+When they were seen on the steps, guarded by the police, waiting for
+the door to open, the crowd yelled at them. The Archbishop observed
+to his companion:
+
+'I'm not sure, after all, that it was wise of me to come. Sometimes
+it is not easy to know what to do for the best. I certainly did not
+expect to find myself in the midst of such a scene of popular
+frenzy.'
+
+Said the Cardinal:
+
+'It at least enables us to see one phase of Protestant England.'
+
+They were admitted by Ada, to whom the Archbishop introduced himself.
+
+'I am the Archbishop, and this is Cardinal De Vere. We have come to
+see the person who is the cause of all this turmoil.'
+
+Ada stopped before the open door of a room.
+
+'This is the Lord!'
+
+Within stood the Stranger, as one who listens to that which he
+desires, yet fears he will not hear: who looks for that for which he
+yearns, yet knows he will not see. The Archbishop fitted his glasses
+on his nose.
+
+'Is this the person? Really! How very interesting! You don't say so!'
+
+Since the Stranger had paid no heed to their advent, the Archbishop
+addressed himself to Him courteously:
+
+'Pardon me if this seems an intrusion, or if I have come at an
+inconvenient moment, but I have received such extraordinary accounts
+of your proceedings that, as head of the English Church, I felt bound
+to take them, to some extent, under my official cognisance.'
+
+The Stranger, looking at him, inquired:
+
+'In your churches whom do you worship?'
+
+'My dear sir! What an extraordinary question!'
+
+'What idol have you fashioned which you call after My Name?'
+
+'Idol! Really, really!'
+
+'Why do you cry continually: "Come quickly!" when you would not I
+should come?'
+
+'What very peculiar questions, betraying a complete ignorance of the
+merest rudiments of common knowledge! Is it possible that you are
+unaware that I am the head of the Christian hierarchy?'
+
+Said the Cardinal:
+
+'Of the English branch of the Protestant hierarchy, I think,
+Archbishop, you should rather put it. You are hardly the undisputed
+head of even that. Do your Nonconformist friends admit your primacy?
+They form a not inconsiderable section of English Protestantism. When
+informing ignorance let us endeavour to be accurate.'
+
+'The differences are not essential. We are all branches of one tree,
+whose stem is Christ. To return to the point. This is hardly a
+moment, Cardinal, for theological niceties.'
+
+'You were tendering information; I merely wished it to be correct,
+for which I must ask you to forgive me.'
+
+'Your Eminence is ironical. However, as I said, to return to the
+point. The public mind appears to be in a state of most lamentable
+excitement. The exact cause I do not pretend to understand. But if
+your intentions are what I hope they are, you can scarcely fail to
+perceive that you owe it to yourself to remedy a condition of affairs
+which already promises to be serious. I am told that there is a
+notion abroad that you have advanced pretensions which I am almost
+convinced you have not done. I wish you to inform me, and to give me
+authority to inform the public, who and what you are, and what is the
+purport of your presence here.'
+
+'I am He that you know not of.'
+
+'That, my dear sir, is the very point. I am advised that you are
+possessed of some singular powers. I wish to know who the person is
+who has these powers, and how he comes to have them.'
+
+'There is one of you that knows.'
+
+The young priest advanced, saying:
+
+'I know You, Lord!'
+
+The Stranger held out to him His hand.
+
+'Welcome, friend!'
+
+'My Lord and my Master!'
+
+While they still stood hand in hand, the Stranger said:
+
+'There are those that know Me, nor are they few. Yet what are they
+among so many? In all the far places of the world men call upon My
+Name, yet know so little of what is in their hearts that they would
+destroy Me for being He to whom they call.'
+
+'But shall the day never come when they shall know You?'
+
+'Of themselves they must find Me out. Not by a miracle shall a man be
+brought unto the knowledge of God.'
+
+Cardinal De Vere said to the young priest:
+
+'Your stock of information appears to be greater than that of your
+spiritual superiors, Father. At Louvain do they teach such
+forwardness, or is this an acquaintance of your seminary days?'
+
+'Yes, Eminence, indeed, and of before them too. For this is our Lord
+and Saviour Jesus Christ, who died for us, yet lives again, to whose
+service I have dedicated my life, and your Eminence your life also.'
+
+'My son, let not your tongue betray you into speaking folly. For
+shame, my son, for shame!'
+
+'But does not your Eminence know this is the Lord? Can you look upon
+His face and not see that it is He, or enter into His presence and
+not know that He is here?'
+
+'Put a bridle upon that insolent tongue of yours. Come from that
+dangerous fellow.'
+
+'Fellow? Eminence, it is the Lord! It is the Lord!' He turned to the
+Stranger. 'Lord Jesus, open the eyes of his Eminence, that he may see
+You, and his heart, that he may know that You are here!'
+
+'Did I not say that no miracle shall bring a man to the knowledge of
+Me? If of himself he knows Me not, he will not know Me though I raise
+him out of hell to heaven.'
+
+The young priest turned again to the Cardinal.
+
+'But, Eminence, it is so strange! so wonderful! Your vocation is for
+Christ; you point always to His cross; you keep your eyes upon His
+face; and yet--and yet you do not know Him now that He is here! Oh,
+it is past believing! and you, sir, you are also a religious. Surely
+you know this is the Lord?'
+
+This was to the Archbishop, who began to stammer:
+
+'I--I know, my dear young friend, that you--you are saying some
+very extraordinary things--things which you--you ought to carefully
+consider before you--you utter them. Especially when I consider
+your--your almost tender years.'
+
+'Extraordinary things! It is the Lord! it is the Lord! How shall you
+wonder at those who denied Him at the first if you, who preach Him,
+deny Him now? Oh, Eminence! oh, sir! look and see. It is the Lord!'
+
+'Silence, sir! Another word of the sort and you are excommunicated.'
+
+'For knowing it is the Lord?'
+
+'For one thing, sir--for not knowing that on such matters Holy Church
+pronounces. Did they teach you so badly at Louvain that you have
+still to learn that in the presence of authority it is the business
+of a little seminary priest to preserve a reverent silence? It is not
+for you to oppose your variations of the creed upon your spiritual
+superiors, but to receive, with a discreet meekness, and in silence,
+your articles of faith from them.'
+
+'If the Lord proclaims Himself, are His children to refuse Him
+recognition until the Church commands?'
+
+'You had better return to your seminary, my son--and shall--to
+receive instruction in the rudiments of the Catholic faith.'
+
+'If for any cause the Church withholds its command, is the Lord to
+depart unrecognised?'
+
+'Say nothing further, sir, till you have been with your confessor. I
+command you to be silent until then.'
+
+'Is, then, the Church against the Lord? It cannot be--it cannot be!'
+The young priest turned to the Stranger with on his face surprise,
+fear, wonder. 'Lord, of those that are here are You known to me
+alone?'
+
+Ada came forward with her sisters.
+
+'We also know the Lord.'
+
+The Stranger said:
+
+'Is it not written that many are called, but few chosen? As it was,
+is now, and ever will be. It is well that you know Me, and these that
+are the daughters of one who knows Me as I would be known; and there
+are those that know Me nearly.' With that He looked at Mr. Kinloch.
+'Also here and there among the multitudes whom God has fashioned in
+His own image am I known, and in the hidden places of the world.
+Where quiet is, there am I often. Men that strive with their fellows
+in the midst of the tumult for the seats of the mighty call much upon
+My Name, but have Me little in their hearts; there is not room. Those
+that make but little noise, but are content with the lower seats,
+waiting upon My Father's will, they have Me much in their hearts, for
+there is room. Wherefore I beseech you to continue a little priest in
+a seminary, great in the knowledge of My Father, rather than a pillar
+of the Church, holding up heaven on your hands: for he that seeks to
+bear up heaven is of a surety cast down into hell. Would, then, that
+all men might be little men, since in My Father's presence they might
+have a better chance of standing high.'
+
+The Cardinal, holding himself very straight, went closer to the young
+priest. His voice was stern.
+
+'Father Nevill, your parents were my friends; because of that I have
+attached you to my person; because, also, of that I am unwilling to
+see you put yourself outside the pale of Holy Church as becomes a
+fool rather than a man of sense. What hallucination blinds you I
+cannot say. Your condition is probably one which calls for a medical
+diagnosis rather than for mine. How you can be the even momentary
+victim of so poor an impostor is beyond my understanding. But it ill
+becomes such as I am to seek for explanations from such as you. Your
+part is to obey, and only to obey. Therefore I bid you instantly to
+leave this--fellow; bow your head, and seek with shame absolution for
+your grievous sin. Do this at once, or it will be too late.'
+
+When the young priest was about to reply, the Stranger, going to the
+Cardinal, looking him in the face, asked: 'Am I an impostor?'
+
+The Cardinal did his best to meet His look, and return Him glance for
+glance. Presently his eyes faltered; he looked down. His lips
+twitched as if to speak. His gaze returned to the Stranger's
+countenance. But only for a moment. Suddenly he put up his hands
+before his face as if to shield it from the impact of the pain and
+sorrow which were in His eyes. He muttered:
+
+'What have I to do with you?'
+
+'Nothing; verily, and alas!'
+
+'Why have you come to judge me before my time?'
+
+'Your time comes soon.'
+
+The Cardinal, dropping his hands, straightened himself again, as if
+endeavouring to get another grip upon his courage.
+
+'I lean on Holy Church. She will sustain me.'
+
+'Against Me?'
+
+The Cardinal staggered against the wall, trembling so that he could
+hardly stand. The Archbishop cried, also trembling:
+
+'What ails your Eminence? Cardinal, what is wrong?'
+
+His Eminence replied, as if he all at once were short of breath:
+
+'The rock--on which--the Church is founded--slips beneath my feet!'
+
+The Archbishop surveyed him with frightened eyes.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIII
+
+                            AND THE CHILD
+
+
+The noise in the street had continued without ceasing. It grew
+louder. A sound arose as of many voices shrieking. While it still
+filled the air the lame man and the charcoal-burner descended from an
+upper room. They spoke of the tumult.
+
+'The people are fighting with the police as if they have gone mad.'
+
+'They seek Me,' said the Stranger.
+
+The lame man looked at him anxiously.
+
+'You!'
+
+'Even Me. Fear not. All will be well.'
+
+'Who are these persons?' inquired the Archbishop.
+
+'They are of those that know Me.'
+
+'Ay,' said the charcoal-burner, 'I know You--know You very well, I
+do. So did my old woman; she knowed You, too. I be that glad to have
+seen You. It's done me real good, that it have.'
+
+'You have been with me so long; then this little while, and soon for
+ever.'
+
+'Ay, very soon.'
+
+'Father, these are of those that know Thy Son.'
+
+He touched with His hand the six persons that were about Him.
+
+The Archbishop plucked the Cardinal by the sleeve.
+
+'I--I really think we'd better go. I--I'm not feeling very well.'
+
+There came a succession of crashes. The Cardinal stood up.
+
+'What's that? It's stones against the windows. Unless I err, they
+have shivered every pane.'
+
+Someone knocked loudly at the door. The Cardinal moved as if to open.
+The Archbishop sought to restrain him.
+
+'What are you doing? It isn't safe to open. The people may come in.'
+
+The Cardinal smiled.
+
+'Let them. The sooner the thing is done the better. To you and me
+what does it matter what comes?'
+
+On the doorstep stood that Secretary of State who had given the
+dinner at which the Archbishop had been present. Behind him was the
+yelling mob.
+
+'Your Eminence! This is an unexpected pleasure. The Archbishop, too!
+How delightful! The people seem in a curious frame of mind; our
+friend Braidwood is justified--already. It's a wonder I'm here alive.
+I am told that several persons have been killed in the crowd--
+terrible! terrible! My own opinion is that we're threatened with the
+most serious riot which London has known in my time. Ah, dear sir!'
+He bowed to the Stranger. 'I need not ask if you are he to whom I
+desire to tender my sincerest salutations. There is that about you
+which tells me that I stand in the presence of no mean person.
+Unfortunately, I am so constituted as to be incapable of those more
+ardent feelings which are to the enthusiast his indispensable
+equipment. Therefore I am not of that material out of which they
+fashion devotees. Yet, since I cannot doubt that my trifling personal
+peculiarities are known to him who, as I am informed, knows all, I
+venture to trust that they will be regarded as extenuating
+circumstances should I ever stand in instant need of palliation.'
+
+The Stranger was still.
+
+The stones still rattled against the windows, smashed against the
+door. Again there came a knocking. The tumult had grown so great, the
+cries so threatening, that those within were trembling, hesitating
+what to do. When the Stranger moved towards the door, the Secretary
+of State prevented Him.
+
+'Sir, I beg of you! I fear it is you they wish to see, with what
+purpose you may imagine from the noise which they are making. Permit
+me to answer the knocking. At the present moment I am of less public
+interest than you.'
+
+He opened. There was an excited sergeant of police.
+
+'The person who's in here must get away by the back somewhere at
+once; those are my orders. The people have found out that they can
+get to this house from the street behind; they're starting off to do
+it. We don't want murder done, and there will be murder if he doesn't
+take himself off pretty quick.'
+
+'Is it so bad as that?'
+
+'So bad as that? Look at them yourself. I never saw them in such a
+state. They're stark, staring mad. All the streets about are full of
+them; they're all the same. That man Walters and his friends have
+been working a lot of them into a frenzy; murder is what they mean.
+Then there's over a hundred been killed in front here, so I'm told--
+poor wretches who came to be healed. The crowd will tear him to
+pieces if they get him. He must get away somehow over the walls at
+the back.'
+
+'Over the walls at the back?'
+
+'He can't get away by the front. We couldn't save him--nobody could.
+I tell you they'll tear him to pieces.'
+
+As the sergeant spoke the Stranger came and stood at the door by the
+Secretary of State. A policeman rushed up the steps bearing something
+in his arms. He addressed the sergeant.
+
+'This child's dead. Sir William Braidwood says most of the bones in
+its body are broken; it's crushed nearly to a jelly. It doesn't seem
+to have had any friends or anything. Could you see it taken into the
+house?'
+
+The sergeant received the child. The Stranger said to him: 'Give it
+to Me.'
+
+'You? Why you? Let it be taken into the house and put decent.'
+
+'Give Me the child.'
+
+He took the child and pressed it to His bosom, and the child, opening
+its eyes, looked up at Him. He kissed it on the brow.
+
+'You have been asleep,' He said.
+
+The child sat up in His arms and laughed.
+
+The Archbishop whispered to the Cardinal:
+
+'The child lives!'
+
+The Stranger cried to those that were within the house:
+
+'I return whence I came. Come there to Me.'
+
+And a great hush fell on all the people, so that on a sudden they
+were still. And they fell back, so that a lane was formed in their
+midst, along which He went, with the child, laughing, in His arms.
+
+It was as if the people had been carved out of stone. They moved
+neither limb nor feature, nor seemed to breathe, but stayed in the
+uncouth attitudes in which they had been flung by passion, with their
+faces as rage had distorted them, their mouths open as they had
+vomited blasphemies, their eyes glaring, their fists clenched.
+
+Through the stricken people in the silent streets the Stranger went,
+the child laughing in His arms--on and on, on and on. Whither He
+went, no man knew. Nor has He been seen of any since, nor the child
+either.
+
+And when He had gone, a great sigh went over all the people. Behold,
+they wept!
+
+
+
+                            THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Second Coming, by Richard Marsh
+
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