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diff --git a/40571-0.txt b/40571-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..459dced --- /dev/null +++ b/40571-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10106 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40571 *** + + THE ANGEL + + BY GUY THORNE + + Author of "When It Was Dark," "Made in His Image," + "First It Was Ordained," Etc. + + + G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + Copyright, 1908, by + G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY + + + + +PREFACE + + +I do not think a book of this sort requires a very lengthy foreword, but +one or two things I feel it necessary to say concerning it. In the first +place, I have to thank Mr. Hamilton Edwards for many valuable +suggestions concerning it, suggestions which, undoubtedly, helped me +very much in the writing. + +The story is an attempt to impress upon readers the fact that we are, +without doubt, surrounded on our way through life by unseen presences, +unseen intelligences, which guard or attack that real portion of us +which is ourselves--the soul. + +Superficially, but only superficially, this is a very material age. We +are surrounded by so many material wonders that the unthinking person is +inclined to believe, at any rate to state, that the material is +everything. Yet there is nothing more unsatisfying than the purely +material aspect of life, after all. + +How can any one be surprised if the ordinary man is perplexed when he is +called upon to decide questions of economy and morality, when the +material point of view is all that he can see? For all questions of +morality must necessarily depend--as long ago Plato pointed out--upon a +belief in something which we cannot touch or see. Otherwise, morality +has no significance and no meaning, except that of expediency. + +If, when our body dies, our personality stops, then I can see no +logical reason whatever for trying to be good. To get all this life in +itself has to offer by means of any sort--provided they do not entail +personal discomfort--is the logical philosophy of the materialist. Yet +the materialist, at the same time, is very frequently an honest and +good-living man. This is not _because_ he is a materialist, for there is +no reason for being honest, unless one is found out in one's dishonesty, +but because there is implanted within that soul which he denies a spark +of the Divine Fire. + +Of course, amongst thinking and really educated men and women, +materialism is as out-moded as the bow and arrow in modern warfare, yet +the majority of people do not think very much, nor are they well +educated. + +This story is an endeavour to point out that people who assert nowadays +that Matthew Arnold's dogma, "miracles do not happen," are hopelessly +out of the run of modern thought. + +Men like Sir Oliver Lodge are laboriously discovering some of the laws +of the Universe which give us portents and signs. No one who knows +to-day dares to sneer at parthenogenesis, or to repeat the slander of +Celsus about the Mother of God. It is only men who do not know, and men +who have grown rusty in reposing on their past reputations, who cannot +see that Materialism as a philosophy is dead. + +Day by day fresh evidence of the power of the Spirit over Matter bursts +upon us. A plea for "philosophic doubt," for Professor Huxley's +infallibility, is no longer necessary. The very distinction between +Matter and Spirit grows more and more difficult as Science develops +analytical power. The minds of men are being again prepared to receive +that supreme revelation which told of the wedding of the earth and +Heaven, the taking of the Manhood into God. + +The processes by which the hero of this story--Joseph--became what he +was have been carefully thought out, in order to provide an opportunity +for those who read the story, to get near to the explanation of some of +those psychical truths which need not necessarily be supernatural, but +only supernormal. It seems to me the wildest of folly to say that +because a thing is not capable of being explained by the laws of Nature +as we know them, that it is _above_ the laws of Nature. Every week is a +witness to the fact that the laws of Nature are only imperfectly known +by us, and therefore, to say that anything is _outside_ Nature is, to +put it plainly, simply nonsense. + +For Nature does not exist, nor is there any possibility that it has ever +existed, without a Controlling Power which created it. + +At the very end of his famous and wonderful life, Lord Kelvin himself +stated it as his unalterable opinion, after all the investigations he +had made into the primary causes of phenomena as we know them, that the +only possible explanation was that a Controlling Intelligence animated +and produced them all. + +I was reading a few days ago one of a series of weekly articles which an +eminent modern scientist, Sir Ray Lankester, is writing in a famous +newspaper. He was speaking of Darwin and "The Origin of Species," and +he seemed to imagine that the great discovery of Darwin finally disposed +of the truth of the first chapter of Genesis, as we have it in the pages +of the Holy Bible. Surely nothing was ever more limited than such a view +as this! God manifests Himself in His own way, at His own time, and in a +fashion which is modified and adjusted to the intelligences and +opportunities of those who live at the time of this or that Revelation +in the progressive scheme of Revelation itself. To say that because +modern science has proved that God did not, as a human potter or +modeller of clay would do, make the whole of living things in full +being, and at a definite time, that therefore the Bible is untrue, is +simply the blindness of those who do not realize that Truth must often +wear a robe to hide its glory from the eyes of those who are unable to +appreciate its full splendour and magnificence. + +If we are descended or evolved from primeval protoplasm, as I for one am +quite prepared to believe, one simply goes back to the simple +question--"Who made the protoplasm?" + +It is no use. We cannot get away, try as we will, from the fact of God, +and we cannot also get away from the fact of the Incarnation, when God +revealed Himself more fully than ever before, and when God Himself +became Man. + +My idea in this story is to show that, by means of processes of which we +have at present but little idea, a man may be drained and emptied, under +special circumstances, of himself and the influences of his past life, +and be made as a vessel for the special in-pouring of the Holy Spirit. + +The death of Lluellyn Lys for Joseph, the mysterious interplay of a soul +going, and meeting on its way, another soul about to go into the +Unknown, aided by the special dispensation of God, might, I think, well +produce some such supernormal being as the Joseph of this tale. Perhaps +an angel, one of those mysterious beings--whom Christians believe to be +the forces and the messengers of God--may have animated Joseph in his +mission, without entirely destroying or obscuring his personality. Be +this as it may, I offer this story as an effort to attract my readers' +minds towards a consideration of the Unseen which is all around us, and +which--more probably than not--is the real world, after all, and one in +which we, as we are now, walk as phantoms and simulacrums of what we +shall one day be in the glorious hereafter. + + +GUY THORNE. + + + + +The Angel + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AND GOD SPAKE---- + + +Two men stood outside a bird-fancier's shop in the East End of London. +The shop was not far from the docks, and had a great traffic with +sailors. Tiny emerald and gamboge love-birds squawked in their cages, +there was a glass box of lizards with eyes like live rubies set in the +shop window, while a hideous little ape--chained to a hook--clattered in +an impish frenzy. + +Outside the shop door hung a cage containing a huge parrot, and it was +this at which the two men were looking. + +Hampson, a little wrinkled man in very shabby clothes, but of a brave +and confident aspect, pointed to the parrot. + +"I wonder if it talks?" he said. + +Immediately upon his words the grey bird, its watchful eye gleaming with +mischievous fire, began a stream of disconnected words and sentences, +very voluble, very rapid, and very clear. + +Hampson shuddered. + +"Do you know, Joseph," he said, "I am always afraid when I hear that +sound--that noise of a bird talking human words. To me, there is no more +dreadful sound in the world." + +Hampson's companion, a taller and much more considerable man, looked at +the little fellow with surprise. + +"Afraid?" he said. "Why should you be afraid? The sound is grotesque, +and nothing more. Has hunger completed her work, and privation conquered +at last? Are your nerves going?" + +"Never better, my dear Joseph," the little man replied cheerfully. "It +will take a long time to knock me out. It's you I'm afraid about. But to +return to the parrot. Has it ever struck you that in all nature the +voice of a bird that has been taught to speak is unique? There is no +other sound even remotely resembling it. We hear a voice using human +words, and, in this instance, and this alone, we hear the spoken words +of a thing that has no soul!" + +The other man started. + +"How fantastic you are," he said impatiently. "The thing has a brain, +hasn't it? You have in a larger and far more developed measure exactly +what that bird has; so have I. But that is all. Soul! There is no such +thing!" + +The bird in the cage had caught the word, which excited its mechanical +and oral memory to the repetition of one of its stock phrases. + +"Soul! Soul! 'Pon my soul, that's too good. Ha, ha, ha!" said the +parrot. + +"Polly differs, apparently," Hampson said drily, as they moved on down +the Commercial Road; "but what a hopeless materialist you are, Joseph. +You go back to the dogmatism of the pre-Socratic philosophers or voice +the drab materialism of the modern animal man who thinks with his skin. +Yet you've read your Plato!--you observe that I carefully refrain from +bringing in Christian philosophy even! You believe in nothing that you +have not touched or handled. Because you can't find the soul at a +post-mortem examination of the body you at once go and say there is no +such thing. Scholars and men of science like you seem astonishingly +blind to the value of evidence when it comes to religious matters. You, +my dear Joseph, have never seen India. Yet you know a place called India +exists. How do you know it? Simply through the evidence of other people +who have been there. You have just as much right to tell the captain of +a P. & O. steamer that what he thought was Calcutta was merely a +delusion as to tell me or any other professing Christian that there is +no such thing as the Kingdom of Heaven! Well, I must be off; I have a +bit of work to do that may bring in a few shillings. There may be dinner +to-night, Joseph!" + +With a quick smile, Hampson turned down a side street and was gone. The +man called Joseph continued his way, walking slowly and listlessly, his +head sunk upon his breast in thought. + +The teeming life of the great artery of East London went on all round +him; but he saw nothing of it. A Chinaman, with a yellow, wrinkled face, +jostled up against him, and he did not know it; a bloated girl, in a +stained plush blouse, wine-coloured like her face, and with an immense +necklace of false pearls, coughed out some witticism as he passed; a +hooligan surveyed him at leisure, decided that there could be nothing +worth stealing upon him, and strolled away whistling a popular tune--one +and all were no more to the wanderer than a dream, some dream +dim-panelled upon the painted scenes of sleep. + +Shabbily dressed as he was, there was yet something about the man which +attracted attention. He drew the eye. He was quite unlike any one else. +One could not say of him, "Here is an Englishman," or "There is a +German." He would have looked like a foreigner--something alien from the +crowd--in any country to which he went. + +Joseph's age was probably about thirty-three, but time and sorrow had +etched and graven upon his face a record of harsh experience which made +him seem much older. + +The cheeks were gashed and furrowed with thought. Looking carefully at +him, one would have discovered that he was a distinctly handsome man. +The mouth was strong and manly in its curves, though there was something +gentle and compassionate in it also. The nose was Greek, straight and +clearly cut; the hair thick, and of a dark reddish-brown. But the wonder +of the man's face lay in his eyes. These were large and lustrous; full +of changing light in their dark and almost Eastern depth. They were +those rare eyes which seem to be lit up from within as if illuminated by +the lamp of the soul. + +Soul! Yes, it was that of which those eyes told in an extraordinary and +almost overwhelming measure. + +The soul is not a sort of fixed essence, as people are apt to forget. It +is a fluid thing, and expands or contracts according to the life of its +owner. We do not, for example, see any soul in the eyes of a gross, +over-fed, and sensual man. Yet this very man in the Commercial Road, who +denied the very existence of the soul with convinced and impatient +mockery, was himself, in appearance, at any rate, one of those rare +beings of whom we say, "That man is all soul." + +The man's full name was Joseph Bethune. To the tiny circle of his +friends and acquaintances he was simply Joseph. If they had ever known +his surname, they had forgotten it. He was one of those men who are +always called by their Christian names because, whatever their +circumstances may be, they are real, accepted, and unquestioned facts in +the lives of their friends. + +Joseph Bethune's history, to which he never referred, had been, up to +the present, drab, monotonous, and dismal. When an event had occurred it +was another failure, and he could point to no red-letter days in his +career. Joseph had never known either father or mother. Both had died +during his infancy, leaving him in the care of guardians. + +His father had been a pastor of the Methodist sect--a man of singular +holiness of life and deep spiritual fervour. Possessed of some private +means, he had been able to leave a sufficient sum for his son's +education upon a generous and liberal scale. + +The boy's guardians were distant relatives in each case. One was a +clergyman, the other a prosperous London solicitor. The strange, +studious child, quiet, dreamy, and devoted to his books, found himself +out of touch with both. + +The clergyman was a Low Churchman, but of the worst type. There was +nothing of the tolerant outlook and strong evangelical piety of a +Robertson in Mr. St. John. He was as narrow as his creed, condemning all +that he had not experienced, or could not understand, hating the devil +more than he loved God. If he had been sent to the rack he could not +have truthfully confessed to an original thought. + +Joseph Bethune was sent to an English public school of good, though not +of first, rank. Here he was unpopular, and made no friends. His nature +was too strong, and, even as a boy, his personality too striking, for +him to experience any actual physical discomfort from his unpopularity. +He was never bullied, and no one interfered with him; but he remained +utterly lonely. + +In contradiction of the usual custom in the English public school of his +day, Hamilton possessed splendid laboratories, and great attention was +paid to modern science and mathematics. + +Of these advantages Joseph Bethune availed himself to the full. His +temper of mind was accurate and inquiring, and though his manner was +dreamy and abstracted, it was the romance of science over which he +pored; the cold, glacial heights of the higher mathematics among which +his imagination roamed. + +He gained a scholarship at Cambridge, lived a retired and monotonous +life of work, shunning the natural and innocent amusements of youth +while at the university, and was bracketed Third Wrangler as a result of +his degree examination. + +By this time his moderate patrimony was nearly exhausted, though, of +course, his success in the schools had placed many lucrative posts +within his reach. He had actually been offered a fellowship and a +tutorial post at his own college, when he wrecked his university career +by an extraordinary and quite unexpected proceeding. + +At a great meeting in the Corn Exchange, convened by the Bishop of +London for a discussion of certain vexed questions of the Christian +faith, Joseph Bethune rose, and, in a speech of some fifteen minutes' +duration, delivered an impassioned condemnation of Christianity, +concluding with a fierce avowal of his disbelief in God, and in anything +but the purely material. + +We are tolerant enough nowadays. The red horror of the Inquisition has +departed, and men are no longer "clothed in a shirt of living fire" for +a chance word. A "Protestant" ruler no longer hangs the priests of the +Italian Mission for saying the Mass. Any one is at liberty to believe +what he pleases. But men about to occupy official positions must not +bawl unadulterated atheism from the housetops. + +The offence was too flagrant, the offer of the fellowship was withdrawn, +and Joseph, so far as Cambridge was concerned, was ruined. + +It is perfectly true that there were many people who believed exactly as +he did. They sympathized with him, but in secret, and no word or hint of +their sympathy ever reached him. He had done the unpardonable thing: he +had dared to speak out his thoughts, and men of the world do not care to +champion openly one who is publicly disgraced. + +The news got about in many quarters. The man was not an +"agnostic"--polite and windy word! But he was an atheist! Terrible word, +recalling shuddering memories of Tom Paine and Bradlaugh even in the +minds of men and women who themselves believed in nothing at all. Some +men would have only been locally harmed by such an episode as this. But +Bethune's case was peculiar, and it ruined him. + +He had nothing to sell in any market but the academic. He was a born +lecturer; demonstrator of scientific truth. But he had just overstepped +the limit allowed in even these liberal times. Moreover, he was too +young. Such a speech as he had made, had it been delivered at sixty, +with a long and distinguished record behind the speaker, would have been +regarded as a valuable and interesting contribution to modern thought. +It might even have been taken as a sort of fifth Gospel--the Gospel +according to St. Thomas the Doubter! + +Joseph, however, was done for. + +He disappeared from the university. His name was no more heard, and +after the traditional nine days was utterly forgotten. + +It is true that three or four men who saw further than their fellows +realized that a force, a potential but very real force, had departed. +Some one who, as they believed, was to have done extraordinary things +was now crushed and robbed of his power. They perceived that virtue had +departed from the intellectual garment that shelters the men who _can_! + +Joseph tried, and tried in vain, to make such a living as his vast +mental acquirements and achievements entitled him to. Obscure +tutorships, ill-paid lecturing to coteries of cock-cure Socialists, who +believed in nothing but their chances of getting a slice of the wealth +of men who had worked, and not merely talked--these were his dismal and +pitiful endeavours. + +He came at last to the very lowest pitch of all. He, the high wrangler, +the eminent young mathematician, earned a squalid and horribly +precarious living by teaching elementary science to the sons of +struggling East End shopkeepers who were ambitious of County Council +scholarships for their progeny. + +His health was impaired, but his spirit was as a reed bruised and shaken +by the winds of adversity, yet not broken. He had known sorrow, was +acquainted with grief. + +He had plumbed the depths of poverty, and his body was a wreck. Want of +food--the mean and squalid resting-places he had perforce to seek--the +degradation and vileness of his surroundings, had sapped the life blood. +He did not know the defiant trumpet words of a poet of our time, but had +he done so, they would have well expressed his attitude-- + + Out of the night that covers me, + Black as the pit from pole to pole, + I thank whatever gods may be + For my unconquerable soul. + In the fell clutch of circumstance + I have not winced nor cried aloud; + Under the bludgeonings of chance + My head is bloody but unbowed. + +He turned off into a by-street, and walked on till he came to the docks. +His progress was quite aimless. Once he stopped and wearily asked +himself whither he was going; but the next moment he was lost in +thought, and moved on again. + +Once he stumbled over a steel hawser. He nearly lost his balance, and +had his arm not shot out with an involuntary movement to clutch the +bollard on his left, he would have fallen over the granite-bound edge of +the wharf into the foul, black, slimy depths below. + +Hardly giving a thought to the danger he had just escaped, he moved on +and on. + +Through open sheds--where freight was heaped up waiting the onslaught of +stevedores and labourers--across jutting portions of cobbled space and +shunting grounds, he came to a remote corner, far removed from the +rattle of cranes and the shouts of the workmen. + +Something drew him out of himself, and fixed his attention. It was a +shadow. It caught his gaze, and his eyes became fixed on it. He knew +that a shadow was only the phenomenon produced when streams of radiant +energy are intercepted by an object which is unable to transmit them. +His scientific training had taught him that even _sound_ shadows may be +produced, though to recognize the existence of them the ear must pass +from the unshadowed to the shadowed part. Perhaps it was a symbol! He +himself was in darkness and shadow. Would his ear ever catch those +mysterious harmonies that come to those who suffer?--Hampson heard +them.... + +A woman crept stealthily behind the wall, and the shadow disappeared. + +The woman bore a burden; what it was he could not see. But she held it +close to her breast with the tense clasp of some fierce emotion. + +She had not noticed the dreamer. She stopped by some steps leading down +to the waters of a small section of the dock. + +Joseph sat down on a capstan and looked steadily at her. + +The woman unclasped the burden she bore, drew aside a part of the +covering, and kissed--a baby face. He knew at once what she was doing. +She was bidding it good-bye. She was going to drown it. + +"And they say that there is a God," Joseph thought. "A conscious +Intelligence that directs human affairs. Even Lord Kelvin himself +thought so! Yet God does nothing to save this woman from her sin--or +rather crime!" + +He gazed fiercely. Those eyes, through which his rebellious +unconquerable soul shone out, caught the startled stare of the woman as +she saw the strange man who watched her. + +The man said nothing. The woman thought: "If he prevents me now, I +shall--I must do it later. He can't change me. If he gives me in charge +he can't prove it. I've done nothing yet." + +Yet she looked again, and this time did not turn away. + +A strange magnetism which seemed to run through her, projected from +those eyes, was making even her finger-tips tingle as with a new +sensation, and one she had never known before. Her purpose melted and +dissolved in that flow of more than electric influence; it changed as +fire changes a material thing. It melted like snow before the radiant +energy of the sun. + +Slowly she unwrapped the bundle. The paper, the cloth wrappings she +threw into the black and oily water, but the child she clasped to her +breast. + +"My baby," she murmured, very quietly, but in tones that pierced the +tense atmosphere and reached Joseph's ear. "I bore you in shame, and was +about to kill you to save you from shame like mine; but I will bear my +cross and love you for the sake of Jesus. Amen." + +She stole away, trembling. There was a great fear and wonder at her +heart, and the watcher saw no more. + +Joseph smiled bitterly. His brain seemed some detached thing, a theatre +upon the stage of which wild thoughts were the conflicting actors and +his sub-conscious intelligence the spectator. + +The simile of the shadow returned to him, and was it not all a +shadow--this dark, unhappy life of his? The words "radiant energy," the +words "God" "conscious force" danced before him. The whole sentient +world was reeling--the blood that fed the grey matter of his brain was +poor and thin--this was the reason. + +Yet, was it the reason, after all? What had happened to him in the last +few minutes? He felt as he had never in his whole life felt before. +There was a sense of extraordinary impotence. Something had come into +him; something had gone out of him. + +No!--something had gone _through_ him--that was the way to describe it +to himself.... + +Oh for food, rich nourishing food, quiet and fresh air--then all this +sickness would go.... + + * * * * * + +Joseph left the docks, and was soon back in the teeming Commercial Road. +He walked, lost in thought, unconscious of all his surroundings. + +"Nah, then, Monkey Brand, 'oo y'r shovin'? I can see y'r gettin' a thick +ear, young feller-my-lad. Owns the bloomin' pyvement--" + +A string of obscene oaths and the above words brought Joseph the dreamer +down to earth again--the world of the Commercial Road. + +He had stumbled against a typical bullet-headed, wicked-eyed East End +rough. + +The man stepped close up to Joseph, lifting an impudent and dirty face, +holding the right arm ready to strike the short, jabbing blow so dear to +the hooligan. + +Then a strange thing happened. + +Joseph, roused so suddenly and rudely from his bitter reverie, became +aware of what was toward. He was about to apologize to the man when his +words were checked in his mouth by the fellow's filthy profanity. Joseph +suddenly, instead of speaking, turned his full face to him. The great, +blazing eyes, their brilliancy accentuated a hundred times by hunger and +scorn, seemed to cleave their way through the thick skull of the +aggressor, to pierce the muddy and besotted brain within, to strike fear +into the small leathern heart. + +The man lifted his arm and covered his face, just like a street child +who expects a blow; and then with a curious sound, half whimper, half +snarl, turned and made off in a moment. + +It was an extraordinary instance of magnetic power inherent in this +starving scholar who roamed the streets in a sad dream. + +On his own part, Joseph's action had been quite unconscious. He had no +thought of the force stored up in him as in an electric accumulator. +Some experiments in animal magnetism he had certainly made, when he had +taken a passing interest in the subject at Cambridge. He had cured his +"gyp" of a bad attack of neuralgia once, or at least the man said he +had, but that was as far as it had gone. + +He turned his steps towards the stifling attic he called "home." After +all, he was better there than in the streets. Besides, he was using up +what little strength remained to him in this aimless wandering. + +He had eaten nothing that day, but at nine in the evening he had a +lesson to give. This would mean a shilling, and there were two more +owing from his pupil, so that even if Hampson, who lived in the next +garret, failed to get any money, both might eat ere they slept. + +As he turned into the court and began to mount the stairs, Joseph +thought with an involuntary sigh of "hall" at Cambridge, the groaning +tables, the generous fare, the comely and gracious life of it all. + +And he had thrown it all away--for what? Just for the privilege of +speaking out his thoughts, thoughts which nobody particularly wanted to +hear. + +With a sigh of exhaustion he sat down on the miserable little bed under +the rafters, and stared out of the dirty window over the roofs of +Whitechapel. + +Had he been right, after all? Was it worth while to do as he had done, +to give up all for the truth that was in him. The old spirit of revolt +awoke. Yes, he had been right a thousand times! No man must act or live +a lie. + +But supposing it _was_ all true? Supposing there was a God after all. +Supposing that the Christ upon whom that woman had called so glibly +really was the Saviour of mankind? Then--The thought fell upon his +consciousness like a blow from a whip. + +He leapt to his feet in something like fear. + +"It's this physical exhaustion," he said to himself aloud, trying to +find an anodyne to thought in the sound of his own voice. "My brain is +starved for want of blood. No one can live as I have been living and +retain a sane judgment. It was because the hermits of old starved +themselves in the desert that they saw visions. Yet it is odd that I, of +all men, should weaken thus. I must go out into the streets again, come +what may. The mind feeds upon itself and conjures up wild and foolish +thoughts in a horrible little box like this." + +With a heavy sigh he went slowly out of the room and down the steep +stairs. Never in all his life had he felt so lost and hopeless; so alone +and deserted. + +Another man in his position would have called out upon God, either with +mad and puny revilings in that He had forsaken him, or with a last +piteous cry for help. + +Joseph did not believe in God. + +All his life he had lived without God. He had ignored the love of the +Father and the necessity of faith in His Son Jesus Christ. The temple of +his body was all empty of the Paraclete. Now he felt sure that there was +no God; never had been any God; never would be any God. + +He was at the darkest hour of all, and yet, with a strange nervous +force, he clenched one lean hand until the shrunken muscle sprang up in +coils upon the back of it, resolving that come what might he would not +give in. There was no God, only a blind giant, Circumstance--well, he +would fight that! + +His mental attitude was a curious one, curiously illogical. Keen and +well-balanced as the scientific side of him was, the man--like all those +who openly profess disbelief--was unable to see what might almost be +called the grim humor of his attitude. + +"I do not believe in God!" the atheist cries, and then immediately +afterwards shakes his fist at the Almighty and bids Him to do His worst! + +Man challenging God! There is no more grotesque and terrible thing in +human life than this. + +But, as the world knows now, God had a special purpose in his dealings +with this man. + +All unconscious of what was to befall him, of his high destiny to come, +Joseph walked aimlessly in Whitechapel, cursing in his heart the God in +whom he did not believe, and yet who had already chosen him to be the +centre and head of mighty issues.... A channel as we may think now.... + +We may well believe that each single step that Joseph took was known and +regulated by unseen hands, voices which were unheard by ear or brain, +but which the unconscious and sleeping soul nevertheless obeyed. + +At last the Almighty spoke, and the first link in the chain of His +mysterious operations was forged. + +Joseph was walking slowly past a great building which was in course of +erection or alteration. A network of scaffolding rose up into the smoky, +dun-colored sky. + +The clipping of steel chisels upon stone, the echoing noise of falling +planks, the hoarse voices of the workmen as they called to each other +high up on their insecure perches, all rose above the deep diapason note +of the traffic in a welter of sharply-defined sound. + +Joseph stepped upon the pavement beneath the busy works. He was, he +noticed, just opposite the office of the small East End newspaper for +which Hampson, the poor, half-starved, but cheery little journalist did +occasional jobs. + +Hampson--good, kind, little Hampson! It was pleasant to think of him, +and as he did so Joseph's thoughts lost their bitterness for a moment. +Only the utterly vile can contemplate real unassuming goodness and +unselfishness without a certain warming of the heart. + +Hampson was only half educated--he had the very greatest difficulty in +making a living, yet he was always bright and happy, ever illuminated by +some inward joy. + +Even as he thought of Hampson--almost his only friend--Joseph saw the +man himself coming out of the narrow doorway. Hampson saw the scholar at +once in his quick, bird-like way, and waved his hand with a significant +and triumphant gesture. + +There was to be dinner, then! + +It was not so. The two poor friends were not to share a humble meal +together on that night, at any rate. + +High above Joseph's head, two planks were being slowly hauled upwards to +the topmost part of the scaffolding. They were secured by the usual +halter knot round the centre. The noose, however, had slipped, as the +rope was a new one, and the two heavy pieces of timber hung downwards +with the securing tie perilously near the upper end. + +There was a sudden shout of alarm which sent a hundred startled faces +peering upwards and then the planks fell right upon the man who stood +beneath, crushing him to the ground, face downwards, like a broken blade +of grass. + +With the magic celerity which is part of the psychology of crowds, a +ring of excited people sprang round the crushed, motionless figure, as +if at the bidding of a magician's wand. + +Willing hands began to lift the great beams from it. Hampson had been +one of the first to see and realize the accident. + +He was by the side of his friend in three or four seconds after the +planks had struck him down. And he saw something that, even in his +horror and excitement, sent a strange inexplicable throb through his +blood and made all his pulses drum with a sense of quickening, of +nearness to the Unseen, such as he had never experienced in all his life +before. + +It is given to those who are very near to God to see visions, sometimes +to draw very close to the Great Veil. + +The two planks of timber had fallen over Joseph's back in the exact form +of the Cross. To the little journalist, if to no one else in the +rapidly-gathering crowd, the wood and the bowed figure below it brought +back the memory of a great picture he had seen, a picture of the Via +Dolorosa, when Jesus fainted and fell under the weight He bore. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +"SOMETHING MARVELLOUS IS GOING TO HAPPEN" + + +In the drawing-room of a house in Berkeley Square, Lady Kirwan--the wife +of Sir Augustus Kirwan, the great banker--was arguing with her niece, +Mary Lys. + +The elder lady was tall and stately, and although not aggressive in any +way, her manner was distinctly that of one accustomed to rule. Her +steady grey eyes and curved, rather beak-like nose gave her an aspect of +sternness which was genially relieved by a large, good-humored mouth. At +fifty, Lady Kirwan's hair was still dark and glossy, and time had dealt +very gently with her. + +Of the old Welsh family of Lys, now bereft of all its great heritage of +the past, but with a serene and lofty pride in its great name still, she +had married Sir Augustus, then Mr. Kirwan, in early girlhood. As the +years went on, and her husband's vast wealth grew vaster still, and he +rose to be one of the financial princes of the world, Lady Kirwan became +a very prominent figure in society, and at fifty she had made herself +one of the hundred people who really rule it. + +One daughter, Marjorie, was born to Sir Augustus and his wife, a beauty, +and one of the most popular girls in society. + +"You may say what you like, but I have no patience at all with either +you or your crack-brained brother, Mary!" Lady Kirwan exclaimed, with an +irritable rapping of her fingers upon a little lapis lazuli table at her +side. + +Mary Lys was a tall girl, dressed in the blue uniform of a hospital +nurse. The cloak was thrown back over her shoulders, and its scarlet +lining threw up the perfect oval contour of her face and the glorious +masses of black hair that crowned it. If Marjorie Kirwan was generally +said to be one of the prettiest girls in London--and the couple of +millions she would inherit by no means detracted from her good +looks--certainly Mary Lys might have been called one of the most +beautiful. + +The perfect lips, graver than the lips of most girls, almost maternal in +their gentleness, formed, as it were, the just complement to the great +grey eyes, with their long dark lashes and delicately-curved black +brows. The chin was broad and firm, but very womanly, and over all that +lovely face brooded a holy peace, a high serenity, and a watchful +tenderness that one sees in the pictures of the old masters when they +drew the pious maids and matrons who followed the footsteps of Our Lord +on earth. + +Her beauty was not the sort of beauty which would attract every one. It +was, indeed, physical beauty in perfection, but irradiated also by +loveliness of soul. The common-minded man who prefers the conscious and +vulgar prettiness of some theatre girl, posed for the lens of the camera +or the admiring glances of the crowd, would have said:-- + +"Oh, yes, she's beautiful, of course! One can't help admitting that. But +she's not my style a bit. Give me something with a little more life in +it." + +But there were not wanting many men and women who said that they had +thought that the mother of the Saviour must have looked like Mary Lys. + +"No! I've really no patience with either of you!" Lady Kirwan repeated. + +"But, Aunt Ethel, surely we ought to live our own lives. I am quite +happy with my nursing in the East End. One can't do more good than by +trying to nurse and cure the sick, can one? And Lluellyn is happy also +in his Welsh mountains. He lives a very saintly life, auntie--a life of +prayer and preaching and good works, even if it is unconventional and +seems strange to you. I would not have it otherwise. Lluellyn is not +suited for the modern world." + +"Fiddlesticks, Mary!" Lady Kirwan answered. "'Modern world,' indeed! You +speak as if you said 'Modern pestilence'! Who made the world, I should +like to know? And what right have you and your brother to despise it? +I'm sick of all this nonsense. How a girl with your looks and of your +blood, for there is hardly a peer in England with such a pedigree as +that of our family, can go on grubbing away nursing horrible people with +horrible diseases in that dreadful East End I can't possibly imagine. +You've no money, of course, for your two hundred a year is a mere +nothing. But what does that matter? Haven't your uncle and I more than +we know what to do with? Marjorie has already an enormous fortune +settled upon her. She is almost certain to marry the Duke of Dover next +season. Well, what do we offer you--you and Lluellyn? You are to be as +our second daughter. We will give you everything that a girl can have in +this world. You shall share in our wealth as if you were my own +daughter. With your looks and the money which is available for you, you +may marry any one. We stand well at Court. His Majesty is pleased when +one of the great old families of the realm restores its fallen fortunes. +Every chance and opportunity is yours. As for your brother, as I have so +often written and told him, he will be a son to us. We have not been +given a son; he shall become one. There is enough and to spare for all. +Give up this nonsense of yours. Make Lluellyn come to his senses and +leave his absurd hermit life, and this mad preaching about in the +mountain villages. Come to us at once, both of you. What more could any +one offer you, child? Am I not pleading with you out of my love for you +and my nephew, out of a sincere desire to see you both take your proper +place in the world?" + +Lady Kirwan stopped, a little out of breath after her long speech, every +word of which had been uttered with the sincerest conviction and +prompted by real affection. + +There was probably no more worldly woman in London than the kindly wife +of the great financier. The world was all in all to her, and she was as +destitute of religion or any knowledge of spiritual things as the parish +pump. She would not have divided her last shilling with any one, but +she was generous with her superfluity. + +And certainly one of the great wishes of her life was to see the ancient +family from which she had sprung once more take a great place in life. +She felt within her veins the blood of those old wild princes of the +"stormy hills of Wales"--those Arthurs and Uthers, Caradocs and +Lluellyns innumerable, who had kept their warlike courts in the dear +mountains of her home. + +It was monstrous, it was incredible to Lady Kirwan that the last two +survivors of the Lys family in the direct line should live obscure, +strange lives away from the world. Mary Lys a hospital nurse in the East +End! Lluellyn Lys a sort of anchorite and itinerant preacher! It was +inconceivable; it must be stopped. + +"I will write to Lluellyn again, auntie," Mary said, rising from her +chair. "But, honestly, I fear it will be of little use. And as for +myself--" + +As she spoke the door opened, and a footman entered the room. + +"Miss Marjorie has returned, my lady," he said. "She is waiting below in +the motor-brougham. I was to say that if Miss Lys was ready Miss +Marjorie has a free hour, and will drive Miss Lys back to the hospital." + +"There, there!" Lady Kirwan said to her niece, "Marjorie will take you +back to that place. It will be more comfortable than a horrid, stuffy +omnibus. Now don't give me any answer at present, but just think over +what I have said very seriously. Come again in a week, and we will have +another talk. Don't be in a hurry to decide. And remember, dear, that +with all your exaggerated ideas of duty, you may owe a duty to your +relations and to society quite as much as to indigent aliens in +Whitechapel. Run along, and be a dear good girl, and be sure you don't +catch some dreadful infectious disease." + +A couple of footmen in knee-breeches, silk stockings, and powdered hair +stood on each side of the door. A ponderous butler opened it, another +footman in motor livery jumped down from his seat beside the driver and +held open the door of the brougham. + +"All this pomp and circumstance," Mary thought sadly, "to get a poor +hospital nurse out of a house and into a carriage. Four great men are +employed to do so simple a thing as that, and whole families of my dear +people are starving while the breadwinner lies sick in the hospital!" + +She sighed heavily, and her face was sad as she kissed the brilliant, +vivacious cousin who was waiting in the brougham. + +"Well, you poor dear," Marjorie Kirwan said. "And how are you? I suppose +the usual thing has happened? Mother has been imploring you to take a +proper place in the world--you and my delightfully mysterious cousin +Lluellyn, who is quite like an old Hebrew prophet--and you have said +that you prefer your grubby scarlet-fever friends in Whitechapel!" + +Mary nodded. + +"Dear auntie," she said. "She is wonderfully kind and good, but she +doesn't quite understand. But don't let us talk about it." + +"Very well, then, we won't," Marjorie answered affectionately. "Every +one must gang their own gait! You don't like what I like; I don't like +what you like. The great thing is to be happy, and we're both that. Tell +me something of your work. It always interests me. Have you had any new +adventures in Whitechapel?" + +"Everything has been much the same," she said, "except that a very +wonderful personality has come into the hospital." + +"Oh, how delightful! A man, of course! Do tell me all about him!" + +"His name is Joseph. It sounds odd, but he doesn't seem to use his +surname at all. I did hear it, but I have forgotten. He is simply +Joseph. He was hurt, though not nearly as badly as he might have been, +by some falling planks from a house they were building. But he was in a +dreadfully exhausted and rundown condition--nearly starved indeed. He is +a great scholar and scientist, but he was ruined some years ago because +he made a speech against God and religion at Cambridge, before all the +dignitaries." + +"And are you converting him?" + +"No. That is no woman's work, with this man. He is in a strange state. +We have nursed him back to something like health, but his mind seems +quite empty. At first, when we had some talks together, he railed +against God--always with the proviso that there wasn't any God! Now he +is changed, with returning health. He is like an empty vessel, waiting +for something to be poured into it. He neither disbelieves nor believes. +Something has washed his mind clear." + +"How extraordinary!" + +"Extraordinary you say; but listen! Three days ago--it was in the early +evening--he called me to his bedside. He drew his hand from the +bedclothes and laid it on my arm. How I thrilled at the touch, I cannot +explain...." + +"But, my dear, think of Tom--This is extraordinary!" + +"I've thought of Thomas; but, Marjorie, you cannot know--it was not that +kind of love. It was nothing like love. Perhaps I put it badly, but you +jumped to quite a wrong conclusion. It was something quite different. +His eyes seemed to transfix me. The touch--the eyes--the thrill they +sent through me will remain as long as I live! But listen. He spoke to +me as he hadn't spoken before. 'Mary,' he said--" + +"Did he call you _Mary_?" + +"He had never done so before--he did then. Before I had always been +'Nurse' to him." + +"Well, go on, dear--I am quite interested." + +"He said, 'Mary, you are going off duty in a few minutes. Go to the +upper chamber of 24, Grey Street, Hoxton, and walk straight in. There is +one that has need of you.' I was about to expostulate, but he fell back +in exhaustion, and I called the house surgeon." + +"You surely didn't go?" + +"Yes, I went," Mary went on rapidly. "Something made me go. The low door +of Number 24 was open. I climbed till I got to the top. There was no +light anywhere. It was a miserable foggy evening. I felt for a door and +found one at last. It yielded to my hand and I entered an attic which +was immediately under the roof. + +"Nothing could be seen. I had come unprepared for such darkness. But +taking courage I asked aloud if there was any one there. + +"There was no answer. Yet I felt--I had a curious certainty--that I was +not alone. I waited--and waited. Then I moved slowly about the room. I +was afraid to move with any freedom for fear of stumbling +over--something or other. + +"Suddenly a costermonger's barrow came into the court below. The naphtha +lamps lit up the whole place and the room was suddenly illuminated with +a flickering red light. I could see quite well now. + +"I am accustomed to rather dreadful things, as you know, Marjorie--or at +least things which you would think rather dreadful. But I will confess I +was frightened out of my life now. I gave a shriek of terror, and then +stood trembling, utterly unable to move!" + +"What was it?" + +"I saw a man hanging by a rope to the rafters. His jaw had fallen down, +and his tongue was protruding. I shall never forget how the red light +from the court below glistened on his tongue--His eyes were starting out +of his head.... It was horrible." + +"Oh, how frightful! I should have been frightened to death," said +Marjorie, and a cold shiver ran through her whole body, which Mary could +feel as her cousin nestled closer to her in the brougham. + +"Yes, it was awful! I had never seen anything so awful before--except +once, perhaps, at an operation for cancer. But do you know, Marjorie, I +was quite unlike my usual self. I was acting under some strange +influence. The eyes of that poor man, Joseph, seemed to be following me. +I acted as I never should have been able to act unless something very +curious and inexplicable was urging me. I knew exactly what I had to do. + +"I am experienced in these things, as you know, and I saw at once that +the man who was hanging from the roof was not dead. He was only just +beginning the last agony. There was a big box by the window, and upon a +little table I saw an ordinary table-knife. I dragged the box to the +man's feet, put them upon it, caught hold of the knife, and cut him +down. + +"He was a small man, and fell limply back into my arms, nearly knocking +me over the box, but I managed to support him, and staggered down on to +the floor. + +"Then I got the rope from round his neck, and tried to restore breathing +by Hall's method--you know, one can use this method by oneself. It is +really the basis of all methods, and is used very successfully in cases +of drowning." + +"What did you do then?" Marjorie asked. + +"As soon as he began to breathe again I rushed downstairs. In a room at +the bottom of the stairs, which was lit by a little cheap paraffin lamp +there was a horrid old woman, an evil-looking young man, and several +children. The old woman was frying some dreadful sort of fish for +supper, and I was nearly stifled. + +"To cut a long story short, I sent the children out for a cab, made the +young fellow come upstairs, and together we brought down the man, who +was in a semi-conscious state. No questions were asked because, as you +know, or at least, as is a fact, a nurse's uniform commands respect +everywhere. I took the man straight to the hospital and managed to hush +the matter up, and to arrange with the house surgeon. Of course I could +not tell the doctors everything, but they trusted me and nothing was +said at all. The man was discharged as cured a few days ago. The poor +fellow had attempted his life in a fit of temporary madness. He was very +nearly starving. There is no doubt at all about it. He proved it to the +satisfaction of the hospital authorities." + +"And have you found out who he is?" + +"He is a friend of Joseph's--a comrade in his poverty, a journalist +called Hampson, and the garret was where Joseph and he had lived +together." + +"Extraordinary is not the word for all this," Marjorie interrupted. "It +almost frightens me to hear about it." + +"But even that is not all. When I got back to the hospital after seeing +the would-be suicide in safe keeping, I went straight to my own ward. + +"Joseph was awake. He turned to me as I entered, smiled, and said in a +sort of whisper, 'Inasmuch.' I could hear no more. + +"From that time his mind seemed to lapse into the same state--a state of +complete blank. He is waiting." + +"For what?" + +"Ah, here comes the most strange part of it all. I have received an +extraordinary letter from Lluellyn. My brother has strange psychic +powers, Marjorie--powers that have often been manifested in a way which +the world knows nothing of, in a way which you would find it impossible +to believe. In some way my brother has known of this man's presence in +the hospital. Our minds have acted one upon the other over all the vast +material distance which separates us. He wrote to me: 'As soon as the +man Joseph is recovered, send him to me. He will question, but he will +come. The Lord has need of him, for he shall be as a great sword in the +hand of the Most High.'" + +Marjorie Kirwan shivered. + +"You speak of mystical things," she said. "They are too deep for me. +They frighten me. Mary, you speak as if something was going to happen! +What do you mean?" + +"I speak as I feel, dear," Mary answered, with a deep-ringing certainty +in her voice. "How or why, I do not know, but a marvellous thing is +going to happen! I feel the sense of it. It quickens all my life. I +wait for that which is to come. A new force is to be born into the +world, a new light is to be kindled in the present darkness. The lonely +mystic of the mountain and the strange-eyed man who has come into my +life are, even now, in mysterious spiritual communion. This very +afternoon Joseph goes to Lluellyn. I said good-bye to him before I left +the East End. What will be the issue my poor vision cannot tell me yet." + +Through the hum the maiden of the world heard Mary's deep, steadfast +voice. + +"Something great is going to happen. Now is the acceptable hour!" + +It was utterly outside her experience. It was a voice which chilled and +frightened her. She didn't want to hear voices like this. + +Even as Mary spoke, Marjorie Kirwan heard a change in her voice. The +brougham was quite still, and the long string of vehicles which were +passing in the other direction were motionless also. + +Mary was staring out of the window at a hansom cab that was its +immediate _vis-à-vis_. + +Two men were in the cab. + +One of them, a small, eager-faced man flushed with excitement, was +bowing to Mary. + +The other, taller, and very pale of face, was looking at the hospital +nurse with the wildest and most burning gaze the society girl had ever +seen. + +"Who are they?" Marjorie whispered, though even as she asked she knew. + +"The man I saved from death," Mary answered, in a low, quivering voice, +"and the man Joseph--Joseph!" + +She sank back against the cushions of the carriage in a dead faint. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +NEARER + + +Joseph turned to his companion. + +His face was white and worn by his long illness, but now it was suddenly +overspread with a ghastly and livid greyness. + +He murmured something far down in his throat, and at the inarticulate +sound, Hampson, who had been bowing with a flush of gratitude to Mary, +turned in alarm. + +He saw a strange sight, and though he--in common with many others--was +to become accustomed to it in the future, he never forgot his first +impression. + +Joseph's head had sunk back against the cushions of the cab. His mouth +was open, the jaw having fallen a little, as though he had no control of +it. + +In a flash the terrible thought came to the journalist that his friend +was in the actual throes of death. + +Then, in another second or two, just as the block in the traffic ceased, +and the cab moved on again, he knew that Joseph lived. The eyes which at +first were dark and lustreless--had seemed to be turned inward, as it +were--suddenly blazed out into life. Their expression was extraordinary. +It appeared to Hampson as if Joseph saw far away into an illimitable +distance. So some breathless watcher upon a mountain-top, who searched a +far horizon for the coming of a great army might have looked. A huge +eagle circling round the lonely summit of an Alp might have such a +strange light in its far-seeing eyes. + +At what was the man looking? Surely it was no narrow vision bounded by +the bricks and mortar, the busy vista of the London Strand! + +Then, in a flash, the journalist knew. + +Those eyes saw no mortal vision, were not bounded by the material +circumstance of place and time. They looked into the future. + +It was thus that Jeremiah, the son of Hilkiah looked when the word of +the Lord came to him. + +Unconsciously Hampson spoke a verse from Holy Writ:-- + +"Then the Lord put forth His hand and touched my mouth. And the Lord +said unto me, Behold, I have put My words in thy mouth." + +Then Joseph began to speak, and never had his friend heard a man speak +in this fashion. + +The lips moved very little. The fixed far-off light remained in the +eyes, the face did not change with the word's as the face of an ordinary +man does. + +"I hear a voice; and the voice says to me, 'Thou therefore gird up thy +loins and arise, and speak unto them all that I command thee: be not +dismayed at their faces, lest I confound thee before them.' The words, +which seemed to come from a vast distance, though they were very keen, +vibrant and clear, dropped in tone, and ceased for a moment. Then once +more they began-- + +"And I see the woman Mary and the one that was with her. They are with +me upon an hill-top. And they are as maids that have forgotten their +ornaments, and as brides that have not remembered their attire. And +below us I see great cities and busy markets, the movements of +multitudes, and the coming and going of ships. And I see that the maid +and I and those others who are with us upon the mountain pray to God. +And God touches my mouth, and I go down from the hill and those that are +with me, to root out, to pull down and destroy, and to throw down, to +build and to plant." + +Trembling with eagerness and excitement, Hampson listened to these +extraordinary words. + +Ever since the black hour when he had been rescued from the consequences +of his sudden madness, the journalist had known that there was something +very wonderful about his friend. Hampson could not in justice to himself +blame himself for his attempt at suicide. He knew that he had not been +responsible for what he did. The long privations of his life, the sudden +accident to Joseph in the Whitechapel Road, had been too much for a +sensitive and highly-strung nature. Gradually but surely reason had been +temporarily undermined, and Hampson had only a very slight remembrance +of the events in the fortnight which had preceded his attempt. It was in +the hospital, after the careful nursing and the generous food, that his +brain was restored to its balance. And it was in the hospital also that +Mary Lys had told him of the strange and supernatural occurrence that +had saved his life. + +"Nurse," he had said to her, "I know nothing of what you tell me. I was +mad--quite unconscious of what I did. But I have always known that there +was something about my dear friend that tells me that he is not as other +men are. He is a man set apart, though for what end I do not know, and +cannot foresee. But one thing I plainly know and recognize--the Almighty +Father chose Joseph to be the medium by which I was saved. God moves in +a mysterious way, but he has destined my friend for wonderful things." + +Mary Lys had agreed with her patient. + +"I also have a prescience," she had said, "that Joseph has a work to do +for God. He does not know it. He cannot realize it. He has made no +submission to the Divine Will, but nevertheless he will be an instrument +of It. I know with a strange certainty that this is his high destiny." + +The rapid and vivid remembrance of all this went through Hampson's brain +as a bullet goes through a board, when he heard Joseph's last words. + +He caught him by the hand, holding the long, wasted fingers in his own, +chafing them to bring back some living warmth into their icy coldness. + +The strange voice ceased finally, and Joseph closed his eyes. The rigid +tension of his face relaxed and a little color came back into it. + +Then he gave a long sigh, shuddered and once more opened his eyes. + +"I feel unwell," he said, in faint and hesitating tones. "I saw our +dear, kind nurse in a carriage with another lady. We were all stopped by +a block in the traffic, weren't we? I saw Nurse Mary, and then I can +remember nothing more. I have been in a faint. I did not know I was +still so weak." + +"Don't you remember anything then, Joseph?" + +"Nothing at all. But I feel exactly as I felt when I was lying in +hospital, and suddenly fainted there. It was the time when I said those +extraordinary words to nurse and she went and found you, poor old chap, +just in the nick of time." + +Hampson quivered with excitement. + +"Then you felt just the same sensation a few minutes ago as you did when +you were inspired to save my life by some mysterious influence?" + +"Exactly the same. It is a weird feeling. It is as though suddenly my +whole mind and body are filled with a great wind. I seem to lose my +personality entirely, and to be under the dominion of an enormous +overwhelming power and force. Then everything goes away like a stone +falling through water, and I remember nothing until I regain +consciousness." + +Hampson took his friend's hand. + +"Joseph," he said in tones that were strangely moved and stirred, "have +you yourself no explanation? How do you account for the fact that you +told Nurse Mary to go and save my life?" + +"I suppose it was owing to some sort of telepathy. The mind, so I +believe, gives off waves of electricity exactly like the instrument +which sends the wireless telegraphy messages. You know that if a +receiver in Marconi's system is tuned exactly to the pitch of a +transmitter it picks up the messages automatically, even if they are +not intended for it in the first instance. Some thought wave from your +sub-conscious brain must have reached mine when you were preparing to +hang yourself. That is the only explanation possible." + +"No, Joseph," Hampson answered. "It is not the only explanation. There +is another, and if you could know the words that you spoke in your +trance but a few moments ago, you would think as I do." + +"Did I speak? What did I say?" + +"I think I will not tell you yet. Some day I will tell you. But I am +certain that every act of yours, every word you say, and every step you +take, are under special and marvellous guidance. The Holy Spirit is +guiding and leading you." + +Joseph made a slight movement with his hand. There was something almost +petulant in the gesture. + +"Let us not talk of that," he said. "I think we are agreed not to speak +of it. Certainly I will own that some curious things have happened. That +there is a destiny that shapes our ends may possibly be true. But that +any man does know anything of the nature and qualities of that destiny I +am unable to believe. You and that dear, sweet Nurse Mary have put your +own interpretation on the strange events of the last few weeks. +Certainly I seem to be the sport of some dominating influence. I admit +it, my friend. But it is coincidence, and nothing more. In my weaker +moments I have something of this sense; in my stronger ones I know that +it cannot be so." + +"Well, Joseph, we shall see what the future has in store. For my part I +am certain it is big with events for you." + +"I shall owe everything to Nurse Mary," Joseph answered, changing the +conversation. "It was extraordinarily kind of her to write to her +brother, and ask him to have me as his guest until I recover! Such +charity is rare in life. I have not often met with it, at any rate, on +my way through the world." + +"She is a saint," Hampson answered, with deep reverence in his voice. + +"She is something very like it," Joseph answered. "Some day I hope to +repay her. This long stay in the beautiful Welsh hills will give me the +necessary strength and quietness of nerve to get to work again. The +brother, I understand, is a sort of mystic. He lives a hermit's life, +and is a sort of mountain prophet. It is a strange thing, Hampson, that +I should be going as a pauper to stay with the brother of a dear girl +who took pity on my misfortunes! They have given me the money for my +journey. When I am well again I shall be given the money to return to +London, I, who am a graduate of Cambridge, and I may say it without +ostentation, a mathematician of repute, depend for my present sustenance +upon the charity of strangers. Yet I don't feel in the least +embarrassed. That is more curious than anything else. I have a sense +that my troubles are over now, that I shall come into my own again. We +are nearly at the station, are we not?" + +Hampson made some ordinary remark of assent. He knew the history of the +almost incredible circumstances which had led to this journey of Joseph +to Wales. He had seen the letter from Lluellyn Lys which bade Mary to +send the man Joseph to him. + +But Joseph did not know. + +The patient had been told nothing of the mysterious circumstances that +had brought about this plan of his journey. Joseph simply thought that +he was invited to stay with Mary's brother, so that he might get well +and strong and recover power to enter the battle of life once more. But +Hampson was quite certain that before many days had passed his friend +would realize not only the truth about his mysterious summons, but also +the eternal truths of the Divine forces which were animating his +unconscious will and bringing him nearer and nearer to the consummation +of a Will which was not of this world, and of which he was the +instrument. + +The cab was rolling through the wide squares and streets of Bloomsbury. +In three or four minutes it would arrive at Euston. + +"You will soon be in splendid health, old fellow," Hampson said, anxious +to turn the conversation into an ordinary and conventional channel. +"Meanwhile, I'll have a cigarette. You mustn't smoke, of course, but you +won't grudge me the single comfort that my poor health allows me?" + +He felt in his pocket for the packet of cigarettes that he had bought +that morning. Then, quite suddenly, he paused. + +A sense of the tremendous incongruity of the present situation came to +him. + +He was riding in a London cab to a London station. He was going to see a +sick friend start in a modern train for healing airs and a quiet sojourn +among the hills. + +And yet--and yet he firmly believed--almost knew, indeed--that this +friend, this man who was called Joseph, was, so to speak, under the +especial convoy of the Holy Ghost! + +It was incredible! Were there indeed miracles going on each day in the +heart of modern London? Was the world the same, even now, as it was in +the old, dim days when Jesus the Lord walked among the valleys and the +hills of Palestine? + +Euston and cabs, and yet the modern world was full of mystery, of +wonder. Yes, indeed, God ruled now as He had always ruled. + +Joseph was going towards some divinely-appointed goal! He had been told +nothing of the vision which had made Lluellyn Lys, the recluse of Wales, +write to Mary, commanding her to send him to his mountains. He was +moving blindly to meet his destiny. + +Yet soon Joseph also would know what his friends knew. And with that +knowledge-- + +Hampson's thoughts had passed through his brain in a single instant, +while he was feeling for the cigarettes. He withdrew his hand +mechanically from his pocket and found that it grasped a letter--a +letter which had not been opened. + +"Hullo," he said, "I have quite forgotten about my letter! It came by +the afternoon post just as I was leaving my room to go to the hospital +and meet you. I put it in my pocket and then thought no more about it." + +He began to open the type-written envelope. + +Joseph said nothing, but gazed out upon the panorama of the London +streets with dreamy eyes. He was thinking deeply. + +Suddenly he was startled by an exclamation from Hampson. + +Turning, he saw that the little man's face was alive with excitement and +flushed with pleasure. + +"What is it, my dear fellow?" he asked. + +"The most wonderful thing, Joseph! Fortune and prosperity at last! The +big newspaper firm of Rees--Sir David Rees is the head of it--have +offered me the editorship of their religious weekly, _The Sunday +Friend_. I have written a dozen articles or so for them from time to +time, and I suppose this is the result! I am to go and see Mr. Marston, +the managing editor, to-morrow." + +The words tumbled breathlessly from his lips--he could hardly articulate +them in his enthusiasm and excitement. Joseph pressed his friend's hand. +He knew well what this opportunity meant to the conscientious and +hard-working little journalist, who had never had a chance before. + +It meant freedom from the terrible and nerve-destroying hunt for +food--the horrible living from meal to meal--the life of an animal in +this regard, at least, but without the animal's faculties for satisfying +its hunger. It meant that Hampson's real talent would now be expressed +in its fullest power. + +"I cannot congratulate you enough, dear friend," he said in a voice +which trembled with emotion. "Of all men, you deserve it. I cannot say +how happy this makes me, my friend, my brother--for it is as brothers +that you and I have lived this long while. I always knew your chance +would come. In the long run it always comes to those who are worthy of +it. To some it comes early, to others late, but it always comes." + +"It means everything to me, Joseph," Hampson answered. "And think what +it will mean to you also! When you return cured and robust from Wales I +shall be able to give you regular employment. You will be able to write +any amount of articles for me. It means safety and a new start for us +both." + +For some curious reason Joseph did not immediately reply. + +Then he spoke slowly, just as the cab rolled under the massive archway +which guards the station courtyard. + +"Thank you, indeed!" he answered. "But when you spoke, I had a sort of +presentiment that I should never need your aid. I can't account for it, +but it was strong and sudden." + +"Oh, don't say that, old fellow! You must not be morbid, you know. You +will outlive most of us, without a doubt." + +"I did not mean that I felt that I should die, Hampson. Rather a +sensation came to me that I was about to enter some new and strange life +which--" + +The cab stopped. + +"You and the porter must help me down," Joseph said, with a faint, +musing smile of singular sweetness and--so Hampson thought--of inward +anticipation and hope. + +There was yet half an hour before the train was to start. It had been +thought better that Joseph should make a night journey to Wales. The +weather was very hot, and he would have more chance of rest. + +"I'll take you to the waiting-room," Hampson said, "and then I will go +and get your ticket and some papers. I have told the porter who has your +bag what train you are going by. And the guard will come and see if you +want anything." + +Joseph waited in the dingy, empty room while Hampson went away. + +It was the ordinary bare, uncomfortable place with the hard leather +seats, the colored advertisements of seaside resorts, and the long, +heavy table shining with hideous yellow varnish. + +Hampson seemed a long time, Joseph thought, though when he looked up at +the clock over the mantel-shelf he saw that the journalist had only been +gone about four minutes. + +The waiting-room was absolutely silent save for the droning of a huge +blue fly that was circling round and round in the long beam of dusty +sunlight which poured in from one window. + +The noise of the station outside seemed far away--a drowsy diapason. + +Joseph, soothed by the distant murmur, leaned back in his chair and +emptied his mind of thought. + +Then his eye fell idly and carelessly upon an open book that lay upon +the table. + +The book was a copy of the Holy Bible, one of those large print books +which a pious society presents to places of temporary sojourn, if +perchance some passing may fall upon the Word of God and find comfort +therein. + +From where he sat, however, Joseph could not see what the book was. + +Nevertheless, for some strange reason or other, it began to fascinate +him. He stared at it fixedly, as a patient stares at a disc of metal +given him by the trained hypnotist of a French hospital when a trance is +to be induced. + +Something within began to urge him to rise from his seat, cross the +room, and see exactly what it was that lay there. The prompting grew +stronger and stronger, until it filled his brain with an intensity of +compulsion such as he had never known before. + +He resented the extraordinary influence bitterly. A mad, unreasoning +anger welled up within him. + +"I will not go!" he said aloud. "Nothing in the world shall make me go!" + +All that an ordinary spectator--had there been one in the +waiting-room--would have seen was a pale-faced man staring at the table. + +Yet, nevertheless, a wild battle was going on, almost frightful in its +strength and power, though the end of it came simply enough. + +The man could bear the fierce striving against this unknown and +mysterious compulsion no longer. His will suddenly dissolved, melted +away, fell to pieces like a child's house of cards, and with a deep sigh +that was almost a groan he rose and moved unsteadily towards the table. + +He looked down at the book. + +At first there was a mist before his eyes; then it rolled up like a +curtain and these words sprang out clear and vividly distinct from the +printed page: "But the Lord was with Joseph, and showed him mercy." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +ON THE MOUNTAIN + + +The long journey was over. A company of grave-faced men had met Joseph +at a little wayside station. On one side stretched the sea, on the other +great mountains towered up into the still, morning air. + +It was early dawn. The sun in its first glory sent floods of joyous +light over the placid waters. How splendid the air was--this ozone-laden +breeze of the ocean--how cool, invigorating, and sweet! + +Joseph turned to a tall, white-haired old man who seemed to be the +leader of the band of people who stood upon the platform. + +"I have come to a new world," he said simply. + +"Blessed be the name of the Lord who has sent you to Wales," came the +answer in deep and fervent tones. + +Joseph looked at the man and his companions with astonishment. Why had +Lluellyn Lys, the mysterious recluse and hermit of the mountains, sent +these people to meet him? Why was there such a look of respect, almost +of awe, upon the face of each man there, such eagerness and +anticipation? It was all incomprehensible, utterly strange. He felt at a +loss what to do or say. + +He bowed, and then, as if in a dream, mingled with the group and passed +out of the station. A carriage with two horses was waiting. By the side +of it stood the station-master; the man's peaked cap was in his hand, +and his face was lit up with welcome. + +"The Teacher is waiting for you, sir," he said. + +In a state of mind which was almost hypnotic Joseph was helped into the +carriage. Three of the people who had come to meet him entered also, and +they started up along the white mountain-road. Joseph felt that this +progress was all too slow. He was going to a definite goal; he had come +this vast distance to meet some one, and he was impatient of delay. + +He looked up. High above his head the great slate mountain towered into +the sky, a white cap of cloud hid the summit. + +The prospect was august, and it thrilled him strangely. In that great +cloud--like the cloud upon Sinai--what might lie hid? He was conscious +of strange unseen forces, whose depths, measures, or intensity he could +not understand, round him and controlling him. His life was utterly +changed. The hard wall of materialism against which he had leant his +sick life for support was melting and dissolving. + +He gazed upwards once more at the great mountain. + +Lluellyn Lys, the mysterious Teacher, was there! Who and what was this +man of the mountains, this teacher who was so revered? Mary's brother, +the brother of the beautiful girl who had saved him and sent him to +these wild solitudes of Wales. + +Mary's brother, yes; but what besides? And what was Lluellyn Lys to be +to him? + + * * * * * + +They came to a point at which the road ended and died away into a mere +grass track. + +The old man who sat by Joseph's side rose from his seat and left the +carriage. + +"Master," he said, and, as he said it, Joseph bowed his head and could +not look at him. "Master, here the road ends, and we must take you up +the mountain-side to the Teacher by a steep path." + +Another deep Celtic voice broke in upon the old man's speech. + +"Ay, it is a steep path to the Teacher, Lluellyn is ever near to +Heaven!" + +Joseph had never heard Welsh before. He did not know a single word of +that old tongue which all our ancestors of Britain used before ever St. +Augustine came to England's shores with the news and message of Christ's +death and passion. + +Yet, at that moment Joseph _understood exactly what the man said_. The +extraordinary fact did not strike him at the time, it was long +afterwards that he remembered it as one of the least of the wondrous +things that had befallen him. + +He answered at once without a moment's pause. + +"Lead on," he said; "I am with you. Take me to Lluellyn, the Teacher!" + +Joseph turned. He saw that by the wayside there was a rough arm-chair +hung between two long poles. Still moving as a man in a dream, he sat +down on it. In a moment he was lifted up on the shoulders of four men, +and began to ascend a narrow, winding path among the heather. + +On and up! On and up! + +Now they have passed out of ordinary ways, and are high upon the +trackless hills. A dead silence surrounds them; the air is keen and +life-giving; the workaday world seems very far away. + +On and up! Joseph is carried to his fate. Suddenly the old man who +walked in front stopped. + +"Blessed be him who cometh in the name of the Lord!" he cried, in a +deep, musical voice that woke thunderous echoes in the lonely way. + +For near upon an hour the strange procession continued among the heather +and bracken, through wild defiles and passes. At last, with singular and +startling suddenness, the party entered the huge mass of fleecy cloud +that veiled the mountain-top. All around was thick, impenetrable mist. +Everything was blotted out by the thick curtain, the footsteps of the +chair-bearers sounded like footsteps upon wool. + +Then, without any other intimation than a few low words from the leader +of the party, the journey came to an end, the chair was carefully +lowered to the ground, and Joseph alighted. + +A huge granite boulder stood close by. He sat down upon it, wondering +with eager curiosity what was to happen next, looking round him with +keen, searching eyes in a vain endeavor to pierce the ghostly, swaying +walls of mist which hemmed him in on every side. + +The old man stepped up to him. + +"Master," he said again, "our business is at an end. We have brought you +to the place where we have been told to bring you, and must say +farewell until we meet again." + +Joseph started. + +"I do not understand," he said, in a voice into which something almost +like fear had come.... + +"I do not understand. Do you mean to leave me here alone? I am a sick +man. I know nothing of where I am. Where is Lluellyn Lys?" + +His voice sounded strained and almost shrill in its discomfort and +surprise. + +If the old man appreciated the intonation in the voice of his questioner +he did not show it. + +"Have no fear, master," he said. "What I do, I do by command of the +Teacher. No harm will come to you." + +Joseph suddenly seemed to wake from his dream. A great sense of +irritation, almost of anger, began to animate him. He was once more the +old Joseph--the man who had walked with Hampson in the Commercial Road +before the accident had struck him down. + +"That's all very well," he said sharply. "Perhaps no harm will happen to +me, but will Mr. Lluellyn Lys come to me? That is the question in which +I am particularly interested at this moment. I don't know in the least +where I am! I am too feeble to walk more than a few yards. I can't stay +here alone until--" + +He found that he was speaking to the air, the white and lonely mist. +Suddenly, without a word of answer, his strange conductors had melted +away--withdrawn and vanished. + +He was alone on a mountain-top in Wales, surrounded by an impenetrable +curtain of mist, unable to move in any direction. What was all this? + +Was he the victim of some colossal trick, some cruel hoax, some immense +and indefensible practical joke? + +It was difficult to believe it, and yet he cursed his folly in accepting +this strange invitation to Wales. What a foolish and unconsidered +business it all seemed--now that he sat alone in the white stillness, +the terrible solitude. + +Still, mad as the action seemed to him now, he remembered that it was +the result of a long chain of coincidences. Certainly--yes, of that +there could be no doubt--he seemed to have been led to this place. +Something stronger than himself had influenced him. No, he was not here +by chance-- + +Had he fallen asleep? + +Still he sat upon the lichen-covered boulder, still the grey curtain of +the mist hid all the mountain world. + +Yet what was that sound--that deep, ringing voice which sounded in his +ears, falling from some distant height, falling through the air like an +arrow? + +A voice! A voice! And these were the words it chanted-- + +"Rise up, Joseph, and come to me! Fear not, for God is with you! Come to +me, that the things that are appointed may be done!" + +The great voice rolled through the mist like a cathedral bell. + +Cold and trembling, Joseph rose to his feet. One hand rested against +the granite rock to support him as he answered, in a loud cry of +terror-- + +"Who are you? What is this? Are you the man Lluellyn? I cannot come. I +know not where to come. I am too weak to move. I am frightened." + +Again the organ voice came pealing through the gloom. + +"Joseph, Joseph, rise up and come! Come and fear not, for the power of +the Holy Ghost broods upon the mountains." + +Joseph stood for a moment trembling, and swaying from side to side. Then +he was conscious of the most extraordinary sensation of his life. + +Through the mist, invisible, impalpable, a great current of FORCE seemed +flowing to him and around him. + +It poured into every fibre of his being, body, mind, and soul alike. It +was not a delusion. It was wonderfully, marvellously real. Each second +he grew stronger, power returned to his tired limbs, the weariness left +his brain. He called out aloud-- + +"Teacher, I am coming to you!" And, with the swinging, easy step of a +man in perfect health, together with the ease and certainty of a +practised mountaineer, he began to climb upward through the mist. + +It was as though he was floating on air, buoyant as a bird is. On and on +he went, and all the while the invisible electric force poured into him +and gave him strength and power. + +Suddenly thin yellow beams of sunshine began to penetrate and irradiate +the thick white blanket of mist. Stronger and stronger they grew, +throwing a thousand prismatic colors on the thinning vapor, until at +last Joseph emerged into full and glorious day. + +This is what he saw. + +The actual top of the mountain was only two or three yards above him, +and formed a little rock-strewn plateau some twenty or thirty yards +square--now bathed in vivid sunshine. + +Against a cairn of boulders in the exact centre of the space a tall man +was standing. + +Both his arms were stretched out rigidly towards Joseph, the _fingers of +each hand outspread and pointing to him_, as he emerged from the +fog-belt with the sunshine. The man, who wore a long black cloak, was +well over six feet high, and very thin. His face was pale, but the +strong, rugged features gave it an impression of immense vitality and +force. + +Joseph stopped in sudden amazement at the sight of this strange figure +up in the clouds. He suddenly remembered a picture he had seen showing +Dante standing upon a great crag, and looking down into the abyss of the +Inferno. + +Lluellyn Lys looks like that--exactly like that, Joseph thought. + +He went straight up to the Teacher. As he did so, Lluellyn's arms +suddenly collapsed and fell loosely to his sides. His eyes, which had +been fixed steadily upon Joseph, closed with a simultaneous movement, +and he leant back against the cairn as if utterly exhausted. + +But this was only for a moment. As Joseph came up to him he roused +himself, and his face lit up with welcome. The Teacher's smile was +singularly winning and sweet--it was just like Mary's smile, Joseph +thought--but it was also a very sad smile. + +"Brother," Lluellyn said, "the peace of God be with you. May you be full +of the Holy Ghost, that you may better accomplish those high things for +which the Father has destined you, and for which He has brought you +here." + +Joseph took Lluellyn's hand, and was about to answer him when the former +sank back once more against the boulders. His face grew white as linen, +and he seemed about to swoon. + +"You are ill!" Joseph cried in alarm. "What can I do to help you?" + +"It is nothing," Lluellyn answered in a moment or two. "I have been +giving you of my strength, Joseph, that you might mount the last stage +of your journey. The voice of the Lord came to me as I communed here +with Him, and the Holy Spirit sent the power to you through this +unworthy body of mine." + +Joseph bowed. + +"I am moving in deep waters," he said. "Many strange and wonderful +things have happened to me of late. My mind is shaken, and my old life +with its old point of view already seems very far away. But let me say, +first, how much I appreciate your extreme kindness in asking me here, +through Miss Lys. As Miss Mary will have told you, I am a poor, battered +scholar with few friends, and often hard put to live at all. Your +kindness will enable me to recover after my accident." + +Lluellyn took Joseph by the arm. + +He led him to the edge of the plateau. + +"Look!" he said. + +The mist had gone. From that great height they looked down the steep, +pine-clothed sides of the mountain to the little white village, far, far +below. Beyond was the shining, illimitable ocean. + +"The world is very fair," Joseph said. + +"The world is very fair because God is immanent in all things. God is in +the sea, and on the sides of the hills. The Holy Ghost broods over those +distant waters, and is with us here in this high place. Joseph, from the +moment when the cross-wise timbers struck you down in Whitechapel, until +this very moment now, you have been led here under the direct guidance +of the Holy Ghost. There is a certain work for you to do." + +Joseph looked at the tall man with the grave, sweet smile in startled +astonishment. + +"What do I bring?" he said. "I, the poor, battered wreck, the unknown, +the downtrodden? What do I bring _you_?" + +Lluellyn looked Joseph in the face, and placed one long, lean hand upon +his shoulder. + +"Ask rather what you bring God," he said. "It were a more profitable +question. For me, in the power and guidance of the Lord, it is ordained +that you bring one thing only." + +"And what is that?" + +"Death!" said Lluellyn Lys. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE POURING + + +Lluellyn Lys lived in a cottage on the side of the mountain where Joseph +had first been taken to meet him. His small income was enough for his +almost incredibly simple wants, and an ancient widow woman who loved and +reverenced him more than anything else in the world kept the cottage for +him, milked the cow, and did such frugal cooking as was necessary. + +Lluellyn was known far and wide in that part of Wales. The miners, the +small crofting farmers, and the scattered shepherds revered and honored +the mysterious "Teacher" as men of God, were revered in the old times. + +His influence was very great in the surrounding mining villages; he had +been able to do what sometimes even the parish priests had tried in +vain. The drunkard, the man of a foul and blasphemous tongue, +loose-livers and gamblers, had become sober and God-fearing folk, with +their hearts set upon the Eternal Light. + +No one knew when the tall ascetic figure would appear among them with a +strange appropriateness. It was said that he possessed the gift of +second sight, and many extraordinary stories were told of him. + +His sermons were wonderful in their directness and force, their strange +magnetic power. He had a mysterious knowledge of men's hearts, and would +often make a personal appeal to some sinner who had stayed to hear +him--an appeal full of such accurate and intimate knowledge of his +listener's inner life and secret actions that it appeared miraculous. + +And in addition to this power of divination, it was whispered that the +Teacher possessed the power of healing, that his touch had raised the +sick from couches of pain. It was certain that several people who had +been regarded as at death's door had recovered with singular rapidity +after Lluellyn had paid them one or two visits. But in every case the +folk who had got well refused to speak of their experiences, though it +was remarked that their devotion to the recluse became almost +passionate. + +A continual mystery enveloped him. Sometimes no one saw him for weeks. +He would spend day after day locked up in the room he used in the +cottage, and people who had climbed the mountain to seek him, were told +by the housekeeper that it was impossible, and that she herself had not +looked upon his face for many days. + +Occasionally some late returning shepherd or miner would see the tall, +dark figure kneeling, lost in prayer, on the summit of some cloudy peak, +or the edge of some terrible abyss--stark and sharply outlined in the +moonlight. + +And then again would come those sudden periods of mighty activity, of +great gatherings on the hillside, fiery words of warning and +exhortation in the villages. + + * * * * * + +Joseph had been with Lluellyn Lys for ten days. After the first strange +meeting on the mountain, when the Teacher had uttered the enigmatic word +"Death!" he had refused to give his newly arrived guest any explanation +of his saying. + +"Brother," he said, "ask me not anything of the meaning of these things. +The time when they shall be revealed is not yet come, neither do I +myself see clearly in what manner they shall be accomplished." + +Lluellyn had prayed. + +"You are faint with the long journey, Joseph," he said, "but my house is +not far away, where you will find food and rest. But first let us pray +for a blessing upon your arrival, and that all things may befall as Our +Lord would have them." + +And there, in the glorious noontide sunshine, on the highest point of +that great mountain from which they could survey the distant, shining +sea, and range beyond range of mighty hills, the two men knelt down and +prayed. + +Joseph knelt with folded hands by the side of the Teacher. + +It did not seem strange to him that he should do this. He no longer knew +the fierce revolt of the intellect against the promptings of the +conscience and the soul. + +Rebellion had ceased. He bowed his head in prayer. + +"Oh, Holy Ghost, descend upon us now, upon two sinful men, and fill us +with Thyself. Fill and permeate us with Thy divine power. Send down Thy +blessing upon us, and especially guard and influence Joseph that those +things which Thou hast designed for him be not too heavy for him. + +"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Three in One, +and One in Three--Amen." + +Then had come a ten minutes' descent, by an easier path on the other +side of the principal cone, till the house of the Teacher was reached. + +Joseph, after a simple meal, had fallen asleep. He was wearied to death, +and when the housekeeper told him that he had slept for a whole +revolution of the clock hands his surprise was great. + +For the first two or three days of his stay Joseph saw but little of his +host. They met at the frugal midday and evening repasts, but that was +all. Even then Lluellyn talked but little, though his manner was always +kind and almost deferential. + +The Teacher, so his guest could not avoid thinking, regarded him from +some standpoint which he could not enter into. Lluellyn spoke to, and +regarded Joseph as if he were a man set apart, for some reason or other. + +It was very mysterious and piqued the convalescent's curiosity, +sometimes to an almost unbearable degree. There were constant veiled +references to the future, hints of a time to come--of some imminent +happening of tremendous importance. + +What was to happen? How was he concerned in these matters? This was the +question that Joseph constantly asked himself with growing impatience +and nervous anticipation. + +After the first three days Joseph saw more of his host. They went for +walks together over the hills, and once or twice the guest was present +at a great gathering on the mountain-side, when Lluellyn preached to the +people, and swayed them as the wind sways a field of corn. + +More and more Joseph began to realize the holiness of this man with whom +he lived. His love for God and for men glowed within him like a white +flame. Joseph no longer said or believed that there was no God. His +experiences had been too wonderful for that. It was impossible for any +sane mind to be with Lluellyn Lys daily and not to recognize that some +influence which was supernormal both in essence and fact made him what +he was. + +But Christ? Ah, that was a different matter! As yet the Man of Sorrows +had touched no responsive chord in Joseph's heart. + +It was, then, under these conditions, and while his mental development +was just at this point, that the finger of God moved at last, and the +stupendous drama of Joseph's life began. + +He had been alone all day, and as evening fell went out to see if he +could find Lluellyn. There was a sense of loneliness upon him. For some +reason or other he felt forsaken and forlorn. After all, life was +empty, and held very little for him. + +Such were his thoughts as he walked along a familiar path towards an +ancient Druid circle, some half a mile from the cottage, where he +thought he might find his host. + +A faint watery moonlight illuminated the path among the heather, a wan +and spectral radiance, which gave the mountain-pass a strange, unearthly +aspect. + +And as Joseph walked there, with a heavy heart, he became aware that +some one was coming towards him. It was not Lluellyn Lys. Of that he was +certain, an instinct told him so. + +The figure came rapidly and noiselessly over the heath, and as it came +Joseph began to tremble. His knees knocked together, his tongue clave to +the roof of his mouth, the palms of his hands were wet. + +Yet, as far as we may judge, it was not unmixed fear that Joseph felt. +Never, at any time, did he describe his sensations at that supreme +moment. + +When questioned afterwards he was always silent. + +But it was not all fear. + +The figure drew nearer until at last it stood in the centre of the path, +closing the way to the wanderer. + +The dark moors, the faint and spectral sky, the whole visible world +flashed away. There was a noise in Joseph's ears as of many waters, and +through the great rush that was overwhelming him, body, mind, and soul, +he seemed to hear a voice speaking-- + +Then a thick darkness blotted out all sensation, and he knew no more. + + * * * * * + +Joseph tried to lift his arm. He was conscious of the desire to do so, +but for some reason or other he was unable to move it for a moment. + +The arm felt like lead. + +Slowly--and this also was with an effort--he opened his eyes. + +He was in bed, lying in the familiar room at Lluellyn's cottage, though +how he had come there he had no idea whatever. + +His eyes wandered vaguely round the place, and as they grew accustomed +to conscious use he saw that some changes had been made in the aspect of +the room. A table had been removed, and a larger one substituted for it. +The new table was covered with bottles--square bottles with white labels +pasted on them. And there was a faint medicinal smell in the air also. +Then, a sofa-couch had made its appearance which had not been there +before. What did it all mean? + +Suddenly the memory of the figure that had walked towards him upon the +moor when all was late and dark came back to him in a rush of sensation. +Why had everything flashed away as that silent figure approached? Who or +what was it that had come noiselessly upon him through the gloom? Why +had he been struck down? + +Struck down? Yes; that was what had happened. He began to think a little +more clearly. He had been struck down, and now, of course, he was ill. +They had found him on the moor probably, and brought him back to the +cottage. + +He began to realize more and more that he was ill--very ill. He tried to +turn in bed, and could hardly do so. Once more he endeavored to lift the +arm that felt like a limb of lead, and, partially succeeding, he saw +that it was thin and wasted. + +There was a chair standing not far away from the bed, and on it a copy +of a religious journal. He started. His eye had fallen upon the date of +the paper. + +Slowly and painfully he recalled the date of his first arrival in +Wales--the expiration of time since his sojourn with the Teacher began +until the date indicated upon the front page of the journal. + +There could be no doubt about it, he had been lying unconscious of the +outside world, and heedless of the passage of time, for at least eight +days--possibly even more. + +He gave a little gasp of astonishment--a gasp which was almost a +moan--and as he did so the door of the bedroom opened, and Mrs. Price, +the old housekeeper, entered. + +She came straight up to the bedside and looked down upon Joseph. There +was something very strange in the expression of the old, wrinkled face. +It was changed from its usual expression of resigned and quiet joy. +There were red circles round the eyes, as if she had been weeping; the +kind old mouth was drawn with pain. + +"Ah, my dear," she said to Joseph, "you've come to yourself at last! It +was what the doctor said--that it would be about this time that you +would come to. The Lord be praised!" + +Joseph tried to answer her. The words came slowly from his lips. He +articulated with difficulty, and his voice was strange to his own ears. + +"Have I been ill long?" + +"For near ten days, sir, you have lain at death's door. The doctor from +Penmaenbach said that you would surely die. But the Teacher knew that +you would not. And oh, and oh, woe's the day when you came here!" + +With a sudden convulsive movement, the old lady threw her hands up into +the air, and then burst into a passion of weeping. + +Joseph had heard her with a languid interest. His question was answered; +he knew now exactly what had happened, but he was still too weak and +weary for anything to have much effect upon him. Yet the sudden tears +and the curious words of the kindly old dame troubled him. + +"I am sorry," he said faintly. "I know that I must have been a great +trouble to you. But I had no idea I should fall ill again." + +For answer she stooped over and kissed him upon the forehead. + +"Trouble!" she cried, through her tears. "That's no word to say to me. I +spoke hastily, and what I said I said wrongly. It was the Teacher that +was in my mind. But it is all the will of the Lord to Whom all must +bow--you'll take your medicine now, if you please." + +So she ended, with a sudden descent from high matters to the practical +occupations of the ministering angel. + +Joseph drank the potion which the old lady held to his lips. Her arm was +round his head as she raised it, her brown, tear-stained face was close +to his. + +He felt a sudden rush of affection for her. In the past he had ever been +a little cold in his relations with all men and women. Save, perhaps, +for Hampson, the journalist, he had not experienced anything like love +for his kind. Yet now he felt his heart going out to this dear old +nurse, and, more than that even, something cold and hard within him +seemed to have melted. He realized in his mind, as a man may realize a +whole vast landscape in a sudden flash of lightning, how much love there +was in the world after all. + +Even as his whole weak frame was animated by this new and gracious +discovery, the door of the bedroom opened once more and Lluellyn Lys +came in. + +Mrs. Price turned from the bed upon which Joseph was lying, and went up +to the Teacher. + +She caught him by the arm--Joseph was witness of it all--and bowed her +head upon it. Then once more she began to sob. + +"Oh, man, man," she said, "I've loved ye and tended ye for many years +now. And my father, and my mother, and my people for a hundred years +before, have served the house of Lys. But you have led me from the +bondage of darkness and sin into peace and light. Ye brought me to the +Lord Jesus, Lluellyn Lys. Aye and the Holy Ghost came down upon me when +I gave my heart to the Lord! And now, 'tis near over, 'tis all near +done, and my heart is bitter heavy, Lys. Master, my heart is bowed down +with woe and grief!" + +Lluellyn gently took the poor old thing by the arm. He led her to the +bedside where Joseph lay. + +"Old friend," he said--"dear old faithful friend and servant, it is not +me whom you must call Master any more. My work is nearly done, the time +of my departure draws near. Here is your Master." + +The old dame, clinging to Lluellyn's arm, looked down at Joseph. Then +she started violently, and began to tremble like an autumn leaf in the +wind. + +The old face, browned by a thousand days of mountain sun and storm, grew +pale under its tan. She looked up into Lluellyn's eyes with an +interrogation that was almost fierce in its intensity. + +"I see something, Lys!" she said. "I see something! What does it +mean--what is it, Master? I never saw it before!" + +Lluellyn answered her gravely and slowly. + +"I know not," he said, "save only that it is God's will. All has not yet +been revealed to me. But I shall know soon, very soon, Anna, old friend. +And, as you are a godly woman of the Lord, I charge you that you go with +this man when he departs from this place. Leave us now, Anna. I have +somewhat to do with Joseph." + +As his voice fell and ceased, the old lady went weeping from the room. + +For some little time there was a dead silence in the place. + +Joseph's brain was in a whirl, but his eyes were fixed upon the tall +figure of the Teacher. + +Lluellyn Lys was strangely altered. His thin form was thinner still. +Always fragile in appearance, he now seemed as if a breath would blow +him away. His face and hands were deathly white, and his whole +appearance suggested a man almost bloodless, from whom all vitality had +been literally drained away. + +"You are ill, Lluellyn," Joseph said at length. + +The Teacher shook his head. + +"No, dear friend," he answered. "I do what I have to do, that is all." + +As he spoke, he drew a chair up to the bedside, and, stretching out his +long, thin hands, placed the finger-tips of one upon Joseph's forehead, +and those of the other upon his pulse. + +A dim memory, faint and misty, came to Joseph of his recent illness. +Lluellyn had sat in this position before, the touch of his fingers was +familiar somehow or other, the stooping form awoke a chord of memory. + +"Why," he said, "since I have been ill you have been doing this many +times. It is all coming back to me. What are you doing?" + +Lluellyn smiled faintly. + +"I am giving you strength for the work God intends you to do," he said. +"Do not talk, Joseph. Lie very still, and fix your thoughts on God." + +Already the Teacher's voice seemed thin and far away to Joseph. It was +as though he was moving rapidly away from Lluellyn, carried by a strange +force, a vital fluid which was pouring into his veins. + +He experienced exactly the same sensation as when he had first climbed +the mountain-top to meet Lluellyn--that of receiving power, of being a +vessel into which life itself was flowing. + +At some time or another most people have been under the influence of an +anæsthetic, if only for the extraction of a tooth. Joseph now began to +lose consciousness in exactly the same way, rapidly, with a sense of +falling and a roaring noise in the ears. + +The falling motion seemed to stop, the noise ceased, everything was +dark. + +Then the black swayed like a curtain. Light came swiftly and silently, +and in one single moment Joseph saw stretched before him and below him a +vast panorama. + +It was London that he saw, but in a way that no human eye has ever +beheld the modern Babylon. Nor does the word "saw" accurately express +the nature of the vision. + +He apprehended rather than saw. The inner spiritual eye conveyed its +message to the brain far more clearly and swiftly than even the delicate +lenses and tissues of the flesh can ever do. Color, form, movement, all +these were not seen physically, but felt in the soul. + +He had passed out of the dimensions of mortal things into another state. + +London lay below him, and in the spirit he heard the noise of its +abominations, and saw the reek of its sin hanging over it like a vast, +lurid cloud. + +They say, and the fact is well authenticated, that a drowning man sees +the whole of his past life, clear, distinct, minutely detailed, in a +second of time. + +It was with some such flash as this that Joseph saw London. He did not +see a picture or a landscape of it. He did not receive an impression of +it. He saw it _whole_. He seemed to know the thoughts of every human +heart, nothing was secret from him. + +His heart was filled with a terrible anguish, a sorrow so profound and +deep, so piercing and poignant, that it was even as death--as bitter as +death. He cried out aloud, "Lord Jesus, purge this city, and save the +people. Forgive them, O Lord, out of Thy bountiful goodness and mercy! I +that am as dust and ashes have taken it upon me to speak to the Lord. O +Lord, purge this city of its abominations, and save this Thy servant. +Teach me to love Thee and to labor for Thee!" + +The vision changed. Into Joseph's heart there came an ineffable glow of +reverence and love. In its mighty power it was supersensual, an ecstasy +for which there are no words, a love in which self passed trembling away +like a chord of music, a supreme awe and adoration. + +For he thought that a face was looking upon him, a face full of the +Divine love, the face of Our Lord. + +A voice spoke in his heart--or was it an actual physical voice?-- + +"Lo, this has touched thy lips, and thine iniquity is taken away, and +thy sin purged. Also I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I +send, and who will go for us?' Then said I, 'Here am I; send me.'" + +A silence, a darkness of soul and mind, the rushing of many waters, +falling, falling, falling.... + +Joseph awoke, the voice rang in his ears still. + +He saw the walls of the cottage room; he had come back to the world and +to life, a terrible, overmastering fear and awe shook him like a reed. + +He cried out with a loud voice, calling for his friend, calling for the +Teacher. + +"Lluellyn! Lluellyn Lys, come to me!" + +He was lying upon his back still, in exactly the same position as that +in which he had lost consciousness while Lluellyn's hands were upon him +giving him life and strength. + +Now he sat up suddenly, without an effort, as a strong and healthy man +moves. + +"Lluellyn! Lluellyn!" + +His loud call for help was suddenly strangled into silence. Lying upon +the floor, close to the bedside, was the body of Lluellyn Lys, a long +white shell, from which the holy soul had fled to meet its Lord. + +The Teacher had given his life for his friend. In obedience to some +mysterious revelation he had received of the Divine Will, Lluellyn Lys +had poured his life into the body of another. + +Joseph stared for a moment at the corpse, and then glanced wildly round +the room. He could call no more, speech had left him, his lips were +shrivelled, his tongue paralysed. + +As he did so, his whole body suddenly stiffened and remained motionless. + +Exactly opposite to him, looking at him, he saw once more the face of +his vision, the countenance of the Man of Sorrows. + +In mute appeal, powerless to speak, he stretched out his arms in +supplication. + +But what was this? + +Even as he moved, the figure moved also. Hands were stretched out +towards him, even as his were extended. + +He leapt from the bed, passed by the still, white body upon the +floor--and learned the truth. + +A large mirror hung upon the opposite wall. + +What he had thought to be the face of Christ--the veritable face of his +vision--was his own face! + +His own face, bearded, changed, and moulded by his illness, altered +entirely. + +His own face had become as an image and simulacrum of the traditional +pictures and representations of Our Lord's. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE CROSS AT ST. PAUL'S + + +Hampson had been in the editorial chair of the religious weekly for +nearly a month, and the change in the little journalist's circumstances +was enormous; from the most grinding poverty, the most precarious +existence, he had arrived at what to him was wealth. + +He felt himself a rich man, and, indeed, the big firm of newspaper +proprietors which had singled him out to occupy his present position was +not niggardly in the matter of salary. With careful discrimination they +sought out the best man for this or that post, and when they found him +paid him sufficiently well to secure his continued adherence to their +interests. + +Hampson generally arrived at his office about eleven, and opened his +letters. On the day of which this chapter treats he came earlier as he +had to "pass the paper for press." + +A large amount of correspondence awaited him, and he waded steadily +through it for about an hour, giving directions to his secretary as each +letter was opened. When the man had gone to his own room Hampson leant +back in his comfortable chair with a sigh. His usually cheerful face +wore an expression of perplexity and annoyance. + +More than a fortnight had elapsed since he had received any +communication from his friend Joseph. + +When Joseph had first left London he had written every two or three days +to Hampson--brilliant, if slightly caustic letters, describing his new +environment and the life he was leading on the mountain with Lluellyn +Lys. These letters had concealed nothing, and had told the journalist +exactly what had occurred. Yet every time that the writer recorded some +strange happening, or wrote of some unusual experience and sensation, he +had given a _material_ explanation of it at considerable length. + +The astonishing climb up the final peak of the mountain, for example, +was recorded with great accuracy. The voice of the Teacher as it pealed +down through the mist, the sudden access of strength that made it +possible for Joseph to join his host--all this, and much more, was set +down with orderly and scientific precision. But the explanation had been +that the tonic power of the mountain air had provided the muscular +impetus necessary for the climb, and that its heady influence upon a +mind unaccustomed to so much oxygen had engendered the delusion of a +supernatural force. + +Hampson had his own opinion about these strange things. He saw further +into them than Joseph appeared to be able to see. Yet his friend's +letters were a constant source of pleasure and inspiration to him--even +while he deplored Joseph's evident resolve to admit nothing into his +life that did not allow of a purely material explanation. + +And now the letters had stopped. + +He had heard no single word for days and days. His own communications +had remained unanswered, nor had he received any reply to an anxious +inquiry after Joseph's health, addressed to Lluellyn Lys himself. + +This morning, again, there was nothing at all, and the faithful little +man was gravely disturbed. Something serious had indubitably happened, +and how to find out what it was he did not know. + +It was a day of thick and lurid fog. London lay under a pall--the whole +world around was sombre and depressing. + +The well-furnished editorial sanctum, with it's electric lights, +leather-covered armchairs, gleaming telephones, and huge writing-table +was comfortable enough, but the leaden light outside, upon the Thames +Embankment, made London seem a city of dreadful night. + +Hampson rose from his chair, and stood at the window for a moment, lost +in thought. + +Yes, London was indeed a terrible city. More terrible than Babylon of +old, more awful when one remembered that Christ had come to the world +with His Message of Salvation. + +The ancient city of palaces, in its eternal sunlit majesty, had never +known the advent of the Redeemer. Yet, were those forgotten people who +worshipped the God Merodach really worse than the Londoners of to-day? + +Only on the day before, a West End clergyman had come to Hampson with +detailed statistics of the vice in his own parish in the neighborhood of +Piccadilly. The vicar's statements were horrible. To some people they +would have sounded incredible. Yet they were absolutely true, as Hampson +was very well aware--naked, shameful horrors in Christian London. + +"Ah," the clergyman said, "if only Our Lord came to London now how awful +would His condemnation be!" + +As the editor looked out upon the gloom he felt that the material +darkness was symbolic of a spiritual darkness which sometimes appalled +him when he realized it. + +The door opened, and the sub-editor came in with "pulls" of the final +sheets of the paper. Hampson had to read these carefully, initial them, +and send them to the composing-room marked as ready for the +printing-machines. Then his work was done for the day. + +At lunch time, the fog still continuing, he left the office. An idea had +come to him which might be of service in obtaining news of Joseph. + +He would take a cab down to the East End Hospital, and ask Mary Lys if +she knew anything about his friend. Probably she would know something, +her brother, Lluellyn Lys, would almost certainly have written to her. + +Hampson had met Mary two or three times during the last weeks. He +reverenced the beautiful girl who had saved him from the consequences of +his sudden madness, with all the force of his nature. + +In her he saw a simple and serene holiness, an absolute abnegation of +self which was unique in his experience. She represented to him all that +was finest, noblest, and best in Christian womanhood. + +Since his appointment to the editorial chair he had gloried in the fact +that he had been able to send her various sums of money for distribution +among the most destitute of the patients under her charge. + +At four o'clock he had an appointment with the clerk of the works at St. +Paul's Cathedral, but until then he was free. The _Sunday Friend_ +covered a very wide field, and hardly any question of interest to +religious people was left untouched. At the moment grave fears were +entertained as to the safety of the huge building upon Ludgate Hill. The +continual burrowing for various purposes beneath the fabric had caused a +slight subsidence of one of the great central piers. A minute crack had +made its appearance in the dome itself. + +Hampson had obtained permission from the dean to inspect the work of +repair that was proceeding, knowing that his readers would be interested +in the subject. + +Until four, however, he was perfectly free, and he drove straight +towards Whitechapel. + +His cab drove slowly through the congested arteries of the City, where +the black-coated business men scurried about like rats in the gloom. But +in half an hour Hampson arrived at the door of the hospital, and was +making inquiries if Nurse Lys was off duty or no, and that if she were +would she see him. + +He had not come at this time entirely on speculation. He knew that, as a +general rule, Mary was free at this hour. + +She proved to be so to-day, and in a moment or two came into the +reception-room where he was waiting. + +She was like a star in the gloom, he thought. + +How beautiful her pure and noble face was, how gracious her walk and +bearing! All that spiritual beauty which comes from a life lived with +utter unselfishness for others, the holy tranquillity that goodness +paints upon the face, the light God lends the eyes when His light burns +within--all these, added to Mary's remarkable physical beauty, marked +her out as rare among women. + +The little journalist worshipped her. She seemed to him a being so +wonderful that there was a sort of desecration even in touching her +hand. + +"Ah, my friend," she said to him, with a flashing smile of welcome, "I +am glad to see you. To tell you the truth, I have a melancholy mood +to-day, a thing so very rare with me that it makes me all the more glad +to see a friend's face. How are you, and how is your work?" + +"I am very well, Nurse Mary, thank you, but I am troubled in mind about +Joseph. I cannot get an answer to any of my letters, though at first he +wrote constantly. I even wrote to Mr. Lluellyn Lys, hoping to hear from +him that all was well. But I have received no answer to that letter +either. I came to ask you if you had any news." + +Mary looked at him strangely, and with perplexity in her eyes. + +"No," she said. "I have had no news at all from either of them for some +time. I have been disturbed in mind about it for some days. Of course I +have written, too, but there has been no response. That is why I have +been feeling rather downhearted to-day. It is curious that you, Mr. +Hampson, should have come to me with this question, and at this moment." + +They looked at each other apprehensively, and for this reason: they were +not talking of two ordinary men and their doings. + +Both felt this strongly. + +There had been too many unusual and inexplicable occurrences in +connection with Joseph's accident and arrival at the hospital for either +Mary or Hampson to disregard any seeming coincidence. Both knew, both +had always felt, that they were spectators of--or, rather, actors in--a +drama upon which the curtain had but lately risen. + +"When did you last hear from Joseph?" Mary asked. + +Hampson mentioned the date. It was, though, of course, he did not know +it, the date of Joseph's strange experience upon the midnight moor, the +date on which he had been struck down, and on which his second illness +began. + +"It was at that time that I received my last letter from my brother," +the girl answered--"the exact day, in fact. The letter troubled me when +it came; it has troubled me ever since. It spoke of the end of his work +here, hinted that he felt he had almost done what he was sent into the +world to do, though at the same time he bade me prepare myself for great +events immediately imminent." + +There was a silence in the big, bare reception-room. Mary broke it. + +"What a dreadful day it is, Mr. Hampson," she said, with an effort to +give the conversation a less gloomy turn. "I have rarely seen the fog +lie so low over town. Oh, for a breath of fresh air--just five short +minutes of fresh, unclouded air! I think I would give almost anything +for that at this moment." + +A sudden thought came to the journalist. + +"Do you know, nurse," he said, "I think I am one of the few men in +London who can give you just what you ask at this moment; that is, if +you don't mind doing something slightly unconventional?" + +"Oh, convention!" she answered, with the serene smile of the +high-natured woman for whom the world has no terrors. + +Hampson explained where he was bound when he left the hospital, and for +what purpose. There would be no difficulty in the matter at all, if Mary +cared to accompany him to the roof of the cathedral. It was certain, +also, that the dome would rise high above the low belt of fog which was +stifling London. + +Mary had three hours at her own disposal. In ten minutes they were +driving to the great church. + +When they had ascended to the roof of St. Paul's they found the fog was +not so dense. The sun was setting over the modern Babylon. + +Hampson pointed down at the nether gloom. + +"Vanity Fair!" he said. "Vanity Fair! What would Jesus Christ say to +London if He came to it now?" + +As he spoke the breeze suddenly freshened, the fog clouds took new +shapes, the light of the western sun grew in the dark. + +And then a thing happened that set their hearts beating furiously. + +Right ahead in the gloom, flashing, flame-like, clear-cut, and distinct, +a mighty cross hung over London. + +It was at precisely this moment that Joseph was staring, trembling, into +the mirror, at the foot of which lay the long white body of Lluellyn +Lys, and realizing his own exact resemblance to the Man of Sorrows, +Jesus Who came to save us all. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FINANCIER + + +Sir Augustus Kirwan, the great financier, was much disturbed by the news +that his nephew Lluellyn Lys was dead. Both Sir Augustus and his wife +had hoped that the recluse of the mountains might be induced to leave +his solitudes and take an ordinary place in the world. The baronet was +sonless. His wealth was enormous, and he could leave his daughter +Marjorie enough money to make her one of the richest heiresses in +England, and still endow a male heir with a huge fortune. This he would +have done for his wife's nephew--his own nephew by marriage, for though +not a well-born man himself, he had an immense reverence for ancient +blood. + +He reverenced it in his wife, and was as well informed in the history of +the House of Lys as she was herself. Now, however, there was no longer +any chance of reclaiming Lluellyn from what Sir Augustus and Lady Kirwan +had always regarded as the most incredible folly and semi-madness. + +The last male Lys in the direct line was gathered to his fathers. There +still remained Mary Lys. + +"My dear," the baronet said to his wife, "Lluellyn's death has been a +great blow to you, and, indeed, it has to me also, for you know that I +share your enthusiasm for your family and your hopes for it. But Mary +is still with us. She is young and beautiful. We can give her a dowry +that will attract a duke. As soon as I am well again I shall put my foot +down in no uncertain way. This time, whatever Mary may say, I shall +compel her to leave this ridiculous slum-hospital work and take her +proper place in society." + +Sir Augustus spoke of his illness. He was a man by no means indifferent +to the pleasures of the table. As he himself would have expressed it, he +"did himself well" in every particular. + +But people who like white truffles from Piedmont, caviare from the +Volga, comet year port, and liqueurs of brandy at seven pounds a bottle, +must expect a Nemesis. + +Two days before the news of Lluellyn's death arrived Sir Augustus was +seized with a bad attack of gout. + +When Mary Lys, in uncontrollable grief, had hastened to her aunt's house +in Berkeley Square, carrying the sad message from Joseph Bethune which +told her of her beloved brother's death, the banker had been quite +unable to move. + +Had it been in any way possible, the worthy man would have hastened to +Wales to be present at the funeral of his nephew by marriage. But the +physicians had absolutely forbidden him the journey. He would not, +however, allow Mary to travel to the principality by herself. In the +first place he had the not uncommon dislike of men to their womenkind +attending funerals. Mary would not hear of this. + +"Uncle," she said, "shall I not go to see my dear and saintly brother's +body put into the earth from which he will rise again when the trumpet +of the Resurrection Day sounds?" + +This was rather above Sir Augustus. + +"Tut, tut, my dear," he said; "the--er--Resurrection trumpet is not very +near to the nineteenth century. But still, if you must go, I shall +insist on your having a proper escort." + +Accordingly Mary had been sent to Wales in the charge of the Kirwans' +family solicitor, who was instructed to see that everything was done +decently and in order, as befitted the obsequies of the last male member +of the House of Lys. + +For her part, Mary did not in the least want the company of Mr. Owen, +the solicitor. She would have infinitely preferred to be left alone with +her grief. Nevertheless she recognized the kindly feeling and family +instinct that prompted Sir Augustus' action, and submitted with the best +grace possible. + +Lluellyn Lys had been dead for seven days, and it was now two days after +the funeral. + +Sir Augustus was not yet able to leave the house, but his gout was +better. After the simple dinner--which was all that the doctor allowed +him--he sat in his library reading the newspaper of that morning. + +The first thing that caught his eye was a review of a new play which had +just been produced under the title of "The Golden Maiden." Sir Augustus +was an occasional patron of the burlesque stage. The sort of +entertainments provided by the theatres that produce "musical comedy" +were quite to his taste. Kindly and generous as he was, he was a man +without any religious belief whatever and with no ideals. To such a +mind, the indelicacy and lubricity of these plays appealed intensely, +and afforded him great amusement. Nor had he the slightest idea that any +blame whatever could attach to him. These places were crowded night +after night by all sections of society--who was he to stay away? + +Sir Augustus chuckled over the criticism. The writer first gave a +detailed synopsis of the plot--such as it was--and recorded his general +impressions of the performance. The critic was obviously a man of taste +and decent feeling, for he spoke in no measured terms of the gross +indecency of the play, which was, to put it plainly, little more nor +less than a glorification of adultery. + +"And the pity of it is," the writer concluded, "that all London will +flock to see this immoral nonsense. If the drama is to be thus +degraded--and no other form of entertainment has an equal popularity +with the one under discussion--then decent English men and women will +begin to long for the return of the Commonwealth, with its stern and +self-sacrificing simplicity." + +Sir Augustus put the paper down. + +"Silly fool," he muttered. "I wonder he is allowed to write such +hypocritical twaddle. Certainly, from what he says, they do seem to have +gone a little too far this time." + +Nevertheless, Sir Augustus made a mental resolve to look in at the +Frivolity for an hour or two as soon as ever his leg would let him. + +He put down the paper and lit a cigar. All round him were the evidences +of enormous wealth. The library was a large and beautiful room. A fire +of cedar logs glowed in the open hearth, and threw flickering +lights--rose-pink and amethyst--upon the gold and crimson books standing +in their carved-oak shelves. + +The parquet floor was almost hidden by priceless rugs from +Teheran--white, brick-dust color, and peacock-blue. There was a +marvellous _console_ which had belonged to Marie Antoinette, a buhl +clock which had stood in the palace of Sans Souci, and was a gift to +Frederick The Great from Voltaire. As Sir Augustus looked round he +forgot "The Golden Maiden," and sighed. He was thinking of his dead +nephew, Lluellyn Lys, and wishing that he had a son to succeed to all +these splendors. + +The door opened, and Lady Kirwan entered, tall, stately, and beautiful +still, in her flowing black dinner-gown and the heavy ropes of pearls +around the white column of her neck. + +She sat down on the opposite side of the fire to her husband. + +"My dear," she said, and there was distress in her voice, "I am so +worried about Mary." + +"About Mary?" Sir Augustus replied, with some little surprise. "Oh, you +need not worry about Mary, Julia. Of course, this has been a great blow +to her. But she is young and level-headed in many ways. Time will heal +her wounds." + +"Oh, it is not that, Augustus. Of course, the poor dear girl will get +over her grief. Besides, she is religious, you know, and that certainly +does seem to help certain natures. I have often observed it. But I am +anxious about her now. Lluellyn was buried two days ago, and except Mr. +Owen's telegram announcing the bare fact, we have not heard a word from +either of them. Mary ought to be back here now." + +"Well, my dear," the baronet replied, "I really don't think there is the +slightest reason for anxiety. Mary is in perfectly safe hands. Indeed, I +am particularly grateful to Owen for accompanying her himself. It is a +thing I should hardly have ventured to ask him. I quite imagined he +would send one of the elderly confidential clerks--Mr. Simpson, for +instance--a most respectable and trustworthy person." + +"I hope it's all right, I'm sure," the dame replied. "But I can't see +what is keeping the girl for two days after the funeral, all the same. +And why is there no letter? Mary has a fortnight's leave of absence from +that stupid hospital, and she had arranged to come here and stay with +us." + +There was a silence. Then Lady Kirwan pressed a button in the panelled +wall. + +"I will take my coffee in here," she said. Sir Augustus nodded, and +picked up the newspaper once more. + +A footman with powdered hair and large shoulder-knots brought in a +little nacre-encrusted table, with a tiny silver cup, a bowl of +dark-brown sugar-candy from Jamaica, and the long-handled brass pan from +Turkey, which held the coffee. + +He had hardly left the room when Lady Kirwan was startled by a sudden +loud exclamation from Sir Augustus. + +She rose from her seat in alarm, thinking that he was attacked by a +sudden spasm of pain. + +In a moment she was undeceived. + +"Good Heavens," he said, "here are extraordinary goings on! I never read +such a thing in my life! No wonder Mary has not come back." + +Trembling with anxiety, Lady Kirwan ran to the back of her husband's +chair, and, leaning over it, read the article, headed in large type, to +which Sir Augustus pointed with a shaking finger. + + STRANGE RELIGIOUS REVIVAL + + A MOUNTAIN PREACHER EXCITES A WHOLE COUNTRYSIDE + + Our North Wales correspondents telegraph accounts of some + extraordinary scenes in Wales, which are occurring on the mountains + of the Cader Idris district. + + It seems that for some years past a mysterious recluse has been + living in a small cottage high up on the great slate-mountain of + Llan-y-Van. This man was a Mr. Lluellyn Lys, a member of a very + ancient Welsh family, and possessed of small private means. His + method of life was peculiar. Imbued with a deeply mystical + religious spirit, he lived very much as the preaching hermits of + the early days of the Christian faith. Sometimes he would remain + secluded for many days, or be found upon the summit of some lonely + mountain praying aloud to God. At others he would go preaching + through the villages, exhorting every one to repentance and a holy + life, with marvellous eloquence and fervour. + + In addition to this, the "Teacher," as this strange personality + appears to have been known among the peasants and local miners, + would sometimes hold vast meetings upon Sundays, high up in the + hills. Thousands of people from far and near would gather together, + and, standing upon a rock in their midst, Lluellyn Lys would speak + with fiery exhortation, and lead those great musical choruses and + hymns of praise for which the Celtic people are so famous. + + A few weeks ago all those--and there seem to have been many + thousands--who regarded the Teacher as their spiritual adviser and + leader, became aware that he was entertaining a guest at his lonely + mountain home, for the first time within public remembrance. A + strange man had appeared at the little railway station in the + valley, and by Mr. Lys' orders he was carried up the mountain by + various of the Teacher's adherents and disciples. The man, who was + known only by the name of Joseph, was evidently recovering from a + severe illness. He remained in Lluellyn's lonely cottage for some + time, and the two men were attended by an old widow lady whose name + is Mrs. Price. + + During the stranger's sojourn strange rumors were spread round the + countryside. The Teacher had more than once referred to him in + public as the "Master," and had hinted that he was about to conduct + some great religious campaign, the precise nature of which was + never clearly specified. It was also said, and said very generally, + that some most extraordinary things were happening at the top of + Moel Llan-y-Van. + + Incredible as it may seem to-day, there are at the present moment + hundreds of people in this part of Wales who confidently assert, + and offer to prove, that Mr. Lluellyn Lys possessed the gift of + healing. Dozens of cures are attributed to his agency. Be this as + it may, the consensus of opinion not only credits the Teacher with + something like miraculous power, but said that his strange visitor + was possessed of even more wonderful attributes than he was. + + A week ago Lluellyn Lys died. + + It seems that, in mystical language, he had already foretold his + decease. And now we come to the strange part of this excessively + strange story. + + Two days ago Lluellyn Lys was buried. But his was no ordinary + burial; and, moreover, it is quite within the bounds of possibility + that it may yet become the subject of an official inquiry. + + When the news of the Teacher's decease spread over the surrounding + country, from valley and mountain an enormous concourse of people + assembled. The body--it is described as being like a statue of + white marble--was taken from the cottage without a coffin and + buried on the very highest point of the mountain Llan-y-Van--a spot + where the dead preacher had been wont to pray. + + It is understood that this was done by the dead man's wish and + stipulation, though, probably quite contrary to law. No one, + however, interfered--and interference would, of course, have been + useless against several thousand people, who appeared to be in an + ecstasy of grief, and who were obviously determined to carry out + the wishes of their dead friend to the letter. + + If at this point readers of the _Daily Wire_ express incredulity at + what follows we can only say that we guarantee the substantial + accuracy of our report in the completest way. + + After the actual interment of the corpse, and amid the wailing + cries of the vast multitude of mourners, a man mounted the cairn of + boulders which forms the highest part of the mountain--the exact + summit, so to speak. + + Immediately the sounds of mourning were hushed, as if at the beat + of a conductor's bâton. + + Our correspondents describe the scene as wonderfully impressive and + without parallel in their very varied experience. + + It was a cloudy morning, and somewhat chill in those high places. + Yet a beam of sunlight, white and sudden, fell upon the tall figure + upon the cairn. Every one could see the man quite distinctly; every + one knew that this was the stranger known as Joseph, who had been + the companion of Lluellyn Lys during the last weeks of his life. + + The sudden silence was perhaps due to the fact of this universal + knowledge, but equally, perhaps, to another and extraordinary + fact. + + Joseph in appearance resembles the traditional pictures of the + Christ in an astounding manner. It seems almost irreverent to write + these words. But they are written with no such intention. This man, + whoever he may be--charlatan and impostor, or sincere saint and + reformer of our own day--is the living, walking image of that idea + which all the world has of Him who died upon the Cross! + + The words came; not very many, neither mystical nor obscure, but + plain statements of intention. Yet the voice hushed that vast + multitude of people as if with a magician's wand. Deep and clear, + full of a music that our correspondents say no orator of our day + can compass, a voice that goes straight to the heart--so, we are + informed, was the voice of this man Joseph. + + The substance of his speech was startling--an actual shorthand + report of the words will be found upon another page: + + This man, call him what you will, believes that he has a Divine + mission to come to London, that he may warn it of its sins and + bring its inhabitants to the foot of the Cross. + + With a band of disciples--we must use the word--he is even now + speeding towards the metropolis. A dozen or more people are with + him, and it is also said that the sister of the late Teacher, a + very beautiful girl, who was formerly a hospital nurse, has joined + the little band of fanatics. One thing is quite certain. London is + on the eve of a new and most extraordinary sensation. + +Thus the article concluded. + +Lady Kirwan gave a gasp of dismay. + +"Augustus!" she cried, "what a terrible scandal! What does it all mean? +I was right! I knew something had happened to Mary. Why hasn't Mr. Owen +looked after her properly? The poor girl has lost her senses, of course. +She is under the influence of some unscrupulous impostor. Oh, this is +awful, awful! To think that a member of the House of Lys should come to +this! What shall we do? What can we do? Something must be done at once!" + +She had but hardly finished speaking, and both husband and wife were +looking into each other's eyes with faces of perplexity and alarm, when +the door opened and the butler entered. + +"Mr. Owen has returned, Sir Augustus," he said, "and asks to see you +immediately." + +In a moment or two a tall, elderly gentleman, with grey side-whiskers +and a keen, though benevolent face, was ushered into the room. He was in +morning dress, carried a plaid travelling-coat upon his arm, and a hard +felt hat in his hand. + +He seemed anxious and distressed. + +"I can't get up, Owen," Sir Augustus said at once. "I'm still a victim +to this confounded gout. What's all this preposterous stuff I see in the +_Daily Wire_? And where is my niece?" + +The lawyer choked and swallowed. His face grew red and embarrassed. For +a moment or two he did not speak. + +Mr. Owen was a considerable man. He was one of the best known family +solicitors in London. His reputation was unspotted; he was the confidant +of many great folk, and he may or may not have been worth three hundred +thousand pounds. But he was, at this moment, obviously embarrassed, and +perhaps angry also. + +"Kirwan," he said, at length, "we are old friends, and we have been in +business relations for many years. You know, I think, that I am no fool. +You have entrusted vast interests to my care. I have never failed you +that I know of--until to-day." + +"What has happened, dear Mr. Owen?" Lady Kirwan asked, terrified by the +solemnity of the lawyer's manner. "Where is Mary?" + +"I've only just arrived," Mr. Owen answered. "I came straight here from +the station, Lady Kirwan. Your niece, Miss Mary Lys, has gone with that +fellow they call Joseph, and his company of crack-brained fools. Short +of force, I did everything a man could do to restrain her; but she beat +me. It was impossible to move her from her decision. For my part, I +believe the girl's mad!" + +He paused, and both Sir Augustus and his wife realized that this eminent +man was considerably affected. + +In the radiance of the electric light they could see the beads of +perspiration starting out upon his forehead like little pearls. The +baronet's face had gone quite pale. + +With difficulty he rose from his seat, and an oath escaped him as he did +so. + +"The little fool," he cried--"the fool! It's not your fault, Owen. Of +course, I know that. But where is she now? Where is this precious +company of tomfools and madmen?" + +"I have every reason to believe," Mr. Owen answered with quiet emphasis, +"that the whole crew--and Miss Lys with them--are in London at the +present moment!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"THE GOLDEN MAIDEN" + + +The theatrical criticism of the _Daily Wire_ was always printed on page +4; the more important news on page 6, over the leaf. + +It was for this reason that Hampson, the editor of the _Christian +Friend_, never saw the news from Wales, and realized nothing of the +stupendous happenings there until the extraordinary events of the same +night in London. + +He had arrived at his office for a long day's work. Among his letters +was one from a young man who, it appeared, had but lately arrived in the +metropolis to fill a situation as clerk in a big mercantile house. + +Hampson had inaugurated a special feature in the paper. It was a sort of +"advice bureau," and already he knew that he had been able to help +hundreds of people in this way. + +The letter from the clerk, obviously a Christian man who desired to live +a godly life, but was puzzled by the newness and strangeness of the +modern Babylon, in especial asked one question. He had been invited by +one of his fellows to attend a theatrical performance at one of the +"musical comedy" houses. Although he knew nothing of theatres, save that +there was a strong prejudice against them among his own people in the +country, he had declined the invitation. The result had been that he had +endured a good deal of ridicule, and when asked to state his reasons for +refusal, had been unable to do so. Now he asked the editor's opinion +upon the whole matter. + +The question was one that Hampson had never thoroughly gone into. He had +certainly a low opinion of the calling of an actor or actress. He +believed the body to be the temple of the Holy Ghost, and therefore +thought it wrong to nightly paint that body and expose its grace and +beauty to the gaze of every one. It was years, however, since he himself +had entered the doors of a theatre. While he was thinking the matter +out, and wondering what answer he should make to the inquirer, his eye +happened to fall upon the _Daily Wire_, which lay open on the desk +beside him. + +He took up the paper and read the criticism of the new play at the +Frivolity--read it with very different feelings to those which animated +Sir Augustus Kirwan on the evening of the same day. + +If this was what the theatre was coming to, then let all decent men and +women keep out of such places! + +Yet he was a cautious man, and one who was averse to hasty judgments. He +had, moreover, a strict love of truth, and an intense dislike for +hearsay evidence. An idea struck him. He would himself go and see this +play at the Frivolity! If it were really licentious and improper, he +knew that it could not harm him personally. It would disgust him, but +that was all. On the other hand, the critic might have exaggerated, or +he might even have had some personal spite against the management of the +theatre. Dramatic critics sometimes wrote plays themselves, and these +plays were rejected! Such things had been. And it would be a good thing +that his readers should have the impression of a cool and unbiassed mind +upon a subject which was not without importance in the life of the +modern Christian in London. + +Accordingly he wrote a brief note to the business manager of the +theatre, explaining exactly why he wished to see the play, and asking if +a seat was to be had. This he sent round by a boy, with instructions +that if there was a vacant seat he should purchase it for him. + +In an hour the lad returned. He brought a courteous note from the +manager, enclosing the coupon for a seat, marked "complimentary," and +returning Hampson's ten-and-sixpence. + +During the rest of the day the editor was very hard at work, and had no +time to read any more news. The story of the strange doings upon the +mountains in Wales, therefore, escaped him entirely. + +He had heard nothing from Joseph, even yet, nor had he seen Mary Lys +since they had climbed to the roof of St. Paul's Cathedral together. At +that time, when both of them were filled with doubt and anxiety about +Lluellyn and Joseph, they had seen the august symbol of the world's +salvation painted on the sky. Through the terrible fog that hung over +the Babylon of our times the crimson Cross had shone. + +The curious circumstance had brought comfort and relief to both of +them. It might be that they were sentimental, superstitious. + +Yet God moves in a mysterious way, and who were they to say that the +Father had not sent them a message from on high? + +Miracle is not dead yet, whatever the materialists may say. Ask a +captain of the Salvation Army if Mary Magdalene does not still come to +the foot of the Cross! Ask the head of the Church Army if a thief is +never converted at almost the last moment in his evil career! Ask an +Anglican priest, a Congregationalist minister--a Roman Catholic +priest,--for their experiences of death-beds! + +One and all will tell you that God rules the world still, the Holy +Spirit yet broods upon the waters. + +Hampson returned to his rooms in Bloomsbury. After a simple dinner, +during which Butler's _Analogy_ was propped up against the water-bottle, +he changed into evening clothes and walked down to the Frivolity Theatre +in Shaftesbury Avenue. + +The long curve of that street of theatres was thronged with carriages, +motor broughams, and cabs. Beautifully-dressed women with filmy lace +mantillas over their shining hair, attended by well-groomed men in opera +hats and white cashmere scarves, descended from the vehicles and entered +this or that theatre. The whole place blazed with light. + +The great arc-lamps shone on the posters and the marble façades crowned +with their huge electric advertisements. The smart restaurants of +Piccadilly, Regent Street, and the Haymarket were pouring out their +guests at this hour when all the plays were beginning. + +The London world of pleasure was awake in all its material splendor, +luxury and sin. The candle was alight, the gaudy moths fluttering around +it. + +A man and woman descended from a hansom just as Hampson arrived under +the portico of the theatre, the woman so covered with jewels that these +alone, to say nothing of her general manner and appearance, sufficiently +indicated her class. + +Hampson shuddered as he gave his hat and coat to an attendant, and +walked down the softly carpeted corridor through the warm, perfumed air +to the stalls. + +The theatre was very full. On all sides wealth and luxury displayed +themselves in unbounded profusion. But this was an audience nearly every +member of which was devoted to folly, idle amusement, and worse. Hampson +saw vice stamped upon the faces all round him, vice or stupidity, and +carelessness. + +Immediately upon his left, however, there was a young man, sleek and +immaculately dressed, who had a somewhat stronger face than many of the +young fellows there. There was a certain strength about the jaw and +poise of the head, an honesty in the blue eyes which the journalist +noticed at once. + +Hampson sighed. Doubtless this young man was only just entering in upon +the life of pleasure and sin. He was not quite a slave yet--his soul not +irrevocably stained. But some day he would become like the curious +old-young men who sat all round, men with pointed ears, heavy eyes that +only brightened when they saw a pretty girl, mouths curved into +listless and weary boredom. + +What a brigade they were, these rich and vicious young fools who +supported the Frivolity! Night after night they sat in their accustomed +stall while the actresses danced, and postured upon the other side of +the footlights--solemn, vacuous, and pitiable. + +Two men bent over from their seats, and one of them touched the +fresh-looking young man by Hampson's side upon the shoulder. + +The journalist heard names being exchanged--the first speaker was +introducing a friend. From this he discovered who his companion was--Sir +Thomas Ducaine. The name was quite familiar. The young baronet owned an +enormous property in Whitechapel. Some of the foulest and most fetid +dens in Europe belonged to him. Filth and misery, gaunt hunger, and +black crime crawled through hideous alleys, and slunk in and out of +horrible places which were his. + +Probably there was not a property owner in England who was responsible +for the degradation of his fellow-creatures as this well-groomed young +man in the stalls of the Frivolity Theatre. Hampson knew--none better. +Had not he and Joseph starved in one of this man's attics? Yet, he +reflected, probably Sir Thomas knew nothing whatever of the dreadful +places from which he drew his vast revenues, had never visited them, +never would visit them. + +The passing thoughts of those dark days in Whitechapel sent the editor's +mind with painful wonder to his absent friend and his mysterious +silence, and a deep depression was beginning to steal over him when the +orchestra concluded the overture and the curtain rose. + +Always methodical, and with a great power of concentration, Hampson +banished all other thoughts, and gave his undivided attention to the +play he had come to criticise. + +The scene showed the interior of a great London bar, a smart West End +establishment. It was crowded with young men in shining silk hats, +dove-colored trousers, and fashionably-cut grey frock-coats. They were +leaning over the counter, which ran down one side of the stage, and +flirting with half a dozen girls dressed as barmaids. The scene was +brilliant with light and color, accurate in every detail, and, indeed, a +triumph of the scene-painter's art. + +After a moment or two the barmaids burst into a chorus. The music was +bright and tuneful, composed with real skill and sense of melody. +Hampson, who had a good ear, and was himself an amateur musician, +recognized the fact at once. But the words were incredibly vulgar and +stupid, a glorification of drink, by the aid of which all troubles--and +doubtless decency and duty also--might be easily forgotten. + +The whole thing was nauseating, utterly disgusting, to Hampson. He +blushed even, and looked round him to see how the people took it. With a +sad wonder he saw smiles and appreciative gestures on every side. "The +grins of the lost," he thought bitterly, and then remembered that far +greater sinners than any of these fools had power to be, had yet been +redeemed by the saving power of the red wounds of Christ. + +He noticed, however, and with some degree of relief, that this ode to +drunkenness did not apparently interest or amuse the young man on his +left. Sir Thomas Ducaine neither smiled nor showed any sign of +appreciation. + +Sordid dialogue, prefatory to the thin story of the plot, began. The +topical slang that fast and foolish people use was introduced with +sickening reiteration. + +This, and much more which it is not necessary to detail, formed the +first scene--a short one--and preparatory to the real action of the +play. + +The thing went on. Hampson lay back in his softly-padded chair with a +set, impassive face. He was well dressed; his evening suit had been +built by a good tailor, and outwardly there was nothing to distinguish +him from any other of these "lovers of the drama." But as he listened to +this or that doubtful joke and _double entendre_, marked this or that +dance or pose, realized the skill of each cold and calculated appeal to +the baser senses and passions, his heart was sick to death within him. + +He saw how nearly every one of the young men who surrounded him was +known to this or that girl in the chorus. Swift glances or smiles +flashed backwards and forwards from stalls to stage. The whole thing was +an enormous, smoothly-running mechanism of evil! A great house of +ill-fame! It was just that, no more nor less than that! + +The curtain fell on a peculiarly suggestive scene at the end of Act II, +fell amid a roar of applause and laughter. It was so arranged that the +curtain descended hurriedly, as if to hide something that could not be +witnessed. + +For five or six minutes this dirty wickedness was over. Nearly every one +got up and left his seat to go to the bar and take refreshment. + +Hampson did not move, nor did Sir Thomas Ducaine, though the two men +behind asked him to accompany them to the _buffet_. + +He happened to turn, and saw Hampson's face. + +"Excuse me, sir," he said, with an entire disregard of the usual +convention which binds his class. "Excuse me, but you seem rather sick +of this." + +"It's abominable!" Hampson answered, in a sudden burst of anger. "I +never go to the theatre, so I suppose I'm behind the times. But I really +shouldn't have thought that several hundreds of apparently decent people +would have come to see this sort of thing." + +"I'm very much of your opinion," the young man replied, "and I don't +think I like it any better than you do. I never was fond of filth. But I +just strolled in because I'd nothing much better to do." + +He sighed, and, turning from Hampson, stood up and began to survey the +house. + +"Nothing better to do!" The words stung the journalist, and made him +shudder when he thought of Whitechapel. This young, kindly, and +obviously nice-minded man, had nothing better to do than to "drop in" at +the Frivolity! + +Dear God! Nothing better to do! + +The electric bell whirred. Men began to make their way back to their +seats, expectation was alight in most of the faces--faces somewhat +flushed now with brandy-and-soda; eyes brighter now in anticipation of +the opening scene of Act III! + +This was the second night of the play, yet already the opening of Act +III was being talked of all over London. + +Mimi Addington was surpassing herself. + +Mimi was the heroine, _par excellence_, of all the picture-postcards. +Errand-boys whistled her songs, and told each other stories about her in +whispers. The front pages of the foul "sporting" papers which depended +upon their obscenity for their circulation were never without constant +mention of the girl's name. + +Young, lovely, talented--with the terrible cleverness that one must +suppose the evil angels of Satan have--she stood almost alone in her +success and evil. She was a popular idol, though there were some who +knew the woman as she was--a high-priestess of degradation, a public +preacher of all that is debased and low! + +Hampson knew. He did not watch the life in which she shone like a red +star. It was far alien from his own, utterly separate from the lives of +all Christian people. But he was a man in the world, and he could not +escape the popular knowledge. + +As the curtain went up once more he set his teeth and sent up a wordless +prayer to God that his mind might not be influenced or soiled, that the +Almighty would bring the woman to repentance and cause the scourge to +cease. + +She came upon the scene. There was a thunder of hands--even a few loud +cries of welcome pierced the mad applause. Yes, she was beautiful--very +beautiful indeed. And there was charm also. It was not a mere soulless +loveliness of face and form. + +After the first verse of the song, there was a momentary pause while the +orchestra played the symphony on muted strings. + +Then she began again, beautiful and seductive as a siren, with a voice +like a mellow flute. The lights were lowered in the auditorium. It was +well, for many folk, even amid that gay and worldly audience, grew hot +and flushed. + +As the last triumphant notes of the song trilled through the theatre an +extraordinary thing happened. + +A deep trumpet voice rang through the house. The voice of a man, deep, +musical and terrible--a voice that cleft the brain like a sword. + +The lights leapt up once more, and all the vast audience, with a shudder +of fear, turned to look at the face and form of him who had spoken. + +Standing in the stage-box, surrounded by a group of sombre figures, a +man was visible in the view of all. + +Something went through the theatre like a chill wind. The music of the +band died away in a mournful wail. + +There were a few frightened shouts, and then came a deep, breathless +silence. + +Standing in the midst of them was one who, in face and form, seemed to +be none else but Our Lord Himself! + +Hampson knew that voice. Even as it pealed out he rose, staggered, and +sank back into the arms of the man next to him. He did not know that Sir +Thomas was pointing with outstretched arm to the figure of a woman who +stood among the surrounding group in the box. He hardly heard the young +baronet's agonized cry of "Mary! Mary!" + +He heard only that awful accusing thunder-- + +"WOE UNTO YOU, SAMARIA!" + +There was an extraordinary silence in the theatre, such a silence as the +Frivolity had probably never known before in the whole of its +disreputable career. + +The members of the orchestra dropped their instruments, and the gay +music died away with a frightened wail. Mimi Addington stopped suddenly +in her abominable song. No member of the vast audience made a single +sound. The silence of fear, swift, astonished fear, lay over all the +theatre. + +Who was this man? + +Joseph was, of course, in modern dress. But the long, dark cloak he +wore, Lluellyn's cloak, which Mary had given him, a veritable mantle of +Elijah, robbed the fact of any modern significance. + +The frightened people in the theatre only saw come suddenly and +mysteriously among them one who was the image and similitude of Christ +Himself. It was as though He stood there. + +The voice thrilled them through and through. In all their lives no +single one of them had ever heard a voice like this. + +There were those who had, at one time or another, listened to great and +popular preachers, famous political orators. But none of these had +spoken with such a voice. All were thrilled by it, stirred and moved to +the depths of their being. And there were some among the crowd in whose +hearts the knowledge and love of God were only dormant, and not yet +dead. + +These few trembled exceedingly, for they recognized the voice with their +spiritual, if not with their material ears. + +Whoever this man might be--and the marvellous resemblance blazed out as +it were into the theatre--whoever he might be, the Holy Ghost was +speaking through his mouth! + +The whole audience seemed turned to stone. Such a thing had never been +known before. The big, uniformed attendants who would have hustled out +an ordinary intruder or brawler almost before the audience had had time +to realize what was taking place, now stood motionless and silent. + +"Behold, a whirlwind of the Lord is gone forth in fury, even a grievous +whirlwind. It shall fall grievously upon the head of the wicked." + +In the terrible music and menace of its warning, the voice cleft the air +like a great sword. The people in the theatre cowered like a field of +corn when the wind blows over it. Every face grew pale, and in the +slight pause and breathless silence which followed Joseph's words, quick +ears could distinguish a curious sound--or, rather, the intimation of a +sound. It was as though muffled drums were sounding an enormous +distance away, so far and faint that the listener feels that, after all, +he may be mistaken, and there is nothing. + +It was the beating of many human hearts. + +Joseph came forward into the full view of every one. His arm was +outstretched, the marvellous eyes were full of a mystical fire and +inspiration. + +"This is a home of abominations," he cried, "the lust of the flesh, the +pride of the eye. There!"--he went on with unutterable scorn, pointing +to Mimi Addington, with a sudden movement--"there is the priestess of +evil whom you have assembled to worship. Her body is fair. It was the +gift of God. Her voice is beautiful, she is subtle and skilled--these +are also the gifts of the Most High. But she has abused and degraded +these gifts. With her voice she has sung the songs of damnation, and +chanted the music of hell. She has led many astray. There are homes in +England desolate because of her. She has destroyed the peace of many +homes. She has poured poison into the minds of the innocent and young, +calling them to evil pleasure, and by her words leading them to think of +the flowery paths of sin. She has caused many to stumble and offend, and +unless she cast herself upon the infinite mercy of God, it were better +that a millstone were put about her neck and she were cast into the +sea." + +The voice of the man with the message ceased for a moment. + +There was a low sigh, though every one in the theatre heard it, and the +wretched girl sank in a tumbled heap of senseless glitter and finery +upon the floor. + +A universal shudder of fear swept through the huge, brilliant building, +a cumulative gasp of dismay--the material voice of many consciences +awaking from sleep! + +But no one moved to help the fallen actress, her companions on the stage +stood absolutely still, not a man in the orchestra or the auditorium +moved. + +Then, with a swift movement, the accuser bent forward and pointed to the +rows of sleek, well-groomed young men in the stalls. + +"And you!" he cried, his voice more stern and menacing than +before,--"you who sit nightly at the feast of sin, what of you? Young +and strong, your youth and strength are given you to serve the Lord. But +you have made your lives an abomination, you bow down to foul idols, +your doings stink in the nostrils of the just. I am come here to say to +you that surely the Lord will smite you and humble you. You shall be as +an oak that fadeth. Repent before it is too late. Seek God, and turn to +Him. Do this and be saved. For you young men of London are even as the +rulers in Sodom, and those who were set over Gomorrah. You have come in +vanity, and you will depart in darkness, and your names shall be covered +with darkness, and you shall be utterly consumed." + +And then an almost incredible thing occurred. The terrible voice began a +series of _personal_ accusations, as if indeed the hidden secrets of the +hearts of those who heard him were indeed laid bare, some supernatural +instinct had raised the curtain that hung before many evil lives. + +"There sits one among you"--so in each case Joseph began, though no name +was ever mentioned. But one by one those faultlessly dressed men of +London's wealthy pleasure brigade were stricken down as by spears. So +terrible a scene was without parallel in experience. Terrible stories +were revealed, black deeds sprang suddenly to light, and gradually a low +moaning sound began to fill the theatre, a deep and dreadful +accompaniment to the pealing voice of one who seemed to be the Man of +Sorrows Himself. + +Suddenly a woman, somewhere in the back of the pit, began to shriek +horribly. In a second more the whole theatre was in a turmoil. Agonized +groans and cries of heartrending shame and sorrow grew into a piercing +cacophony of sound, drowning the preacher's voice, and seeming to rend +the very walls with its unutterable mournfulness and despair. + +Then, it was never discovered how or why, though the point was ever +afterwards debated, every single light in the theatre went out. + +Through the darkness, and the sudden calm which this added fear induced +for a moment, the mighty voice was heard, tolling like a great bell, +with its burden of "Repent! Repent! Repent!" + +There was, however, no physical panic. No one was bodily injured. When +light was at length restored, it was seen that the strange figure, with +its little accompanying band of followers, had utterly disappeared. The +curtain had fallen and hidden the stage, the place where Joseph had +stood was dark and empty; every one was standing and shaking with fear, +and white faces were turned to faces whiter still, asking each other +what this thing might mean. + +With hardly a sound, the huge audience poured silently out of the +Frivolity. People who, a few short hours before, had passed within the +doors light-hearted, smiling, and eagerly expectant of the mischievous +nonsense they had come to see, now moved with drawn faces and hanging +heads. Lips were clenched with resolve, or still trembled and muttered +in fear. Cheeks were red with terrible shame or blanched with agony. Out +they came like a procession of ghosts, and--London was just the same! + +It was obvious that no inkling of what was going on in the Frivolity +Theatre had penetrated to the outside world. + +Shaftesbury Avenue blazed with light as usual. Crowds--but how different +to this one!--poured from the other playhouses. The street was full of +cabs and carriages, the roar of late traffic, the hoarse shouts of +newsboys selling the last edition of the evening papers. The great +restaurants--Trocadero, Criterion, Monico--were hung with huge +arc-lamps, turning the night into wan and feverish day. Round about +Piccadilly Circus and Regent Street everything was precisely the same as +it had been. Was it all a dream? the late audience of the Frivolity were +asking each other. + +The question was not answered in words. Suffering eyes and stricken +faces told their own tale. + +Hampson, the journalist, was full of a wonder and awe for which there +was no name. He had recognized Joseph at once, a changed--marvellously +changed--Joseph, but his old friend still. + +The whole thing had come upon him like a thunderclap, for it must be +remembered that he had not seen the report in the _Daily Wire_, and knew +nothing of the occurrences in Wales. + +The extraordinary transformation of his friend, the supernatural power +of his words, the enormous hypnotic power of them--what did all these +things betoken? + +He stood motionless, just opposite to the door of the Eccentric Club, +careless of the crowd that passed and jostled him, lost in a startled +dream. + +Then he felt some one touch his arm, and, looking up quickly, saw that +the young man who had sat by him in the theatre, and whom he had heard +addressed as Sir Thomas Ducaine, was accosting him. + +The baronet's face was white and frightened, and he seemed oblivious of +all ordinary conventions. + +"I say," he began, in a curiously high-pitched and nervous voice, "what +does it all mean? You were sitting next to me, you know. And there was a +girl I know well--very well indeed--with that man; but I thought she was +in Wales--" + +He broke off short, realizing that he was speaking to a total stranger. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, "but I am unstrung, as I fancy most +of us are to-night who have been to the Frivolity." + +He lifted his hat mechanically, and was about to move away. + +Hampson recollected a fact which he had hitherto forgotten. Sir Thomas +had called out "Mary!" when the mysterious party of strangers had first +appeared in the box. + +"You mean Miss Lys?" he said. + +The young man with great possessions stopped dead. + +"You know her?" he said, in accents of extreme surprise. "Then you know +who the--the man was, too? At first I thought--oh, a mad +thought!--because of the extraordinary resemblance!" + +He was still a little incoherent, and unable to speak the thoughts that +were rushing through his startled brain. With shaking hand, he took out +a gold cigarette-case and tried to light one of the little white tubes. + +A tall policeman came up to them. + +"You must move on, if you please, gentlemen," he said. "The pavements +must be kept clear at this time of night." + +"Look here," Sir Thomas said to Hampson, "my name is Ducaine--Sir Thomas +Ducaine. You know something of all this--you know Miss Lys. I want to +talk to you. I must talk to you, sir! Now, I live only a few yards from +here, my house is in Piccadilly. Won't you come and spend an hour or two +with me? It would be a great kindness. I'm sure you want some supper, +too, after all this terrible excitement." + +Hampson made up his mind immediately. He was attracted to the +fresh-looking, strong-faced young man. He liked what he had said about +the leprous play, before Joseph's appearance. And he also was terribly +bewildered, and needed human companionship and talk. Moreover, he was +faint with hunger--the emotions he had endured had robbed his blood of +all his strength, and his brain had burnt up the vital force within him. +He would go with Sir Thomas. + +"I thank you!" he said, noting with surprise how thin and tired his own +voice was. "I shall be glad to come. My name is Hampson, and I am the +editor of a weekly newspaper." + +"We will go at once," Sir Thomas answered, and crossing the Circus, the +strangely assorted pair walked rapidly down Piccadilly. + +They had traversed about a third of that street of clubs and mansions +when the baronet stopped at the massive door of a large bow-windowed +house, opened it with a tiny Bramah key, and Hampson found himself, for +the first time in his life, in the house of a wealthy and fashionable +young gentleman of London. + +A silent manservant took their coats, and the host led the way to a +small room, which opened into the hall at the further end of it. Here +another and older man was waiting--the butler, evidently. A small round +table was laid for supper with dainty richness. A mass of hothouse +violets stood in a silver bowl in the centre; there were tall +hock-glasses of Venetian ware, purple also; and the table-cloth and +serviettes were fringed with purple. + +"Bring some supper at once, please!" Sir Thomas said. "Something light, +Mr. Hampson? Oh, very well! Some _consommé_, _Bryce_, some devilled +oysters--yes, and an omelette afterwards. That will do." + +"And the wine, Sir Thomas?" + +"Oh, bring some hock and seltzer!" + +The man withdrew. + +"Excuse me one moment, Mr. Hampson," the baronet said. "I am expecting a +rather important telegram. If it has arrived, they will have put it in +the library. I will go and see." + +He hurried out of the room. Hampson looked round him. The walls were +panelled in white, and priceless old sporting prints, full of vivid +color and movement, had been let into the panels. A great couch, covered +in blue linen, with broad white stripes, was drawn up to the cosy fire, +and on the tiger skin which served as a hearthrug a little Japanese +spaniel was lying asleep. In a moment or two Sir Thomas returned. He had +changed his evening coat for a smoking-jacket of quilted satin, and wore +a pair of straw-woven Italian slippers upon his feet. + +"Supper won't be a moment," he said, sinking down upon the couch. "I +have trained all my people to be quick. But if you are not too tired, +will you tell me, or begin to tell me, what you know? This means more to +me than you can possibly imagine." + +"How shall I begin?" + +"Who is that man who appeared in the theatre, and swayed and held it +with the force of his words?" + +"He is named Joseph Bethune," Hampson answered, "and he is a great +personal friend of my own." + +"And why was Miss Lys with him? And what do you know of her?" + +With perfect frankness Hampson explained how Mary had saved his life. He +told of the strange occurrences in connection with Joseph's accident, +recovery, and journey to Wales. + +"Miss Lys, I know," Hampson said, "was greatly impressed by Joseph and +the occurrences connected with him. Only three days ago I met her, and +we talked about him. She had not heard from her brother, with whom +Joseph was staying. I had not heard from Joseph, either, for several +weeks. We were both distressed." + +Suddenly, as he said this, Hampson started. He remembered the great +fiery cross that he and Mary had seen hanging over London from the top +of St Paul's Cathedral. + +Why should he keep back anything? he thought; and in short, graphic +sentences he described this marvel also. + +Sir Thomas was intensely interested. His face was grave and set, his +eyes wide with wonder. + +"Of course, I knew Miss Lys had a brother in Wales," he said. "I know +her very well. But she has never said anything to me of this man Joseph, +whom she sent to stay with him. What you have told me is extraordinary. +Frankly, I could not have believed in all of it had I not been present +at the theatre to-night. But I still fail to establish any connection +between Joseph in Wales with Lluellyn Lys and Miss Lys with Joseph at +the theatre." + +"And I am as much in the dark as you are," Hampson answered. + +While they had been speaking, the butler had been superintending the +movements of a footman who was bringing in the soup and the chafing-dish +with the oysters. Now he came up to his master, carrying a silver tray, +upon which was a folded newspaper. + +"I am sorry, Sir Thomas," he said, "but I could not help overhearing +part of what you and this gentleman were saying. You were mentioning +some names which made me think that you could not have seen the paper +to-day, sir." + +"Why, what d'you mean, Bryce?" Sir Thomas asked, in amazement. + +The butler took the paper, opened it, pointed to a column, and said: + +"The name 'Joseph' and Mr. Lys, sir. Mr. Lys is dead, sir. It's all +here, in a special telegram to the _Daily Wire_." + +Sir Thomas jumped up from his seat, seized the paper, and spread it out +upon the supper-table. + +Hampson rose also, and together the two men read the account of the +doings in Wales with eyes that were nearly starting out of their heads. + +The butler and the footman had meanwhile discreetly withdrawn. + +Sir Thomas was the first to break the silence. He read less quickly than +the practised journalist, but he was not long in supplying the +connecting links of the strange story. + +He raised his hand to his head, with a weary and dejected movement. + +"It is beyond me," he said. "Since chance has thrown us together, and +you have been so frank with me, I will be equally so with you. I, Mr. +Hampson, have long had hopes that Mary Lys would be my wife." + +As they sat down to supper, probably even in London, that city of +marvels, no couple more unlike could have been found anywhere together +at that midnight hour. The one was a millionaire, rich even in this age +of huge fortunes. He was young, goodly to look upon, in perfect health, +and a universal favorite in society. + +The man who confronted him was unknown, of humble origin, frail body, +and regarded himself as abnormally lucky to be earning four hundred +pounds a year by constant, highly specialized toil, and the exercise of +a keen and nimble intelligence. + +Yet on this night, at any rate, chance--or may we not say rather the +exercise of the Supreme Will?--had brought them together in the +strangest circumstances and under the strangest conditions. Moreover, +unlike as they were in temperament, position and way of thought, both +were drawn to each other. They had become friends at once, and they were +aware of the fact. + +For the first few minutes of the meal there was silence. Hampson was +physically sick and faint. His whole body cried out for food and +nourishment. He did not know that the _consommé_ he was enjoying was a +_consommé_ of clear turtle, but almost immediately strength began to +return to him. He was not an absolute teetotaller, though it was only on +the rarest occasions that he touched intoxicants. So to-night, though he +partook sparingly of a simple glass of golden hock, he was unaware that +it was the cuvée of '94, from the famous vineyard of Wauloh Landskrona. + +Sir Thomas broke the silence. + +"We have been strangely brought together," he said, "and by forces which +I do not pretend to analyse or understand. But I can trust you, I know, +and I am going to tell you something of my life." + +He paused and frowned, as if thinking deeply. Then he began again-- + +"I have known Mary Lys for a long time," he said slowly and with some +difficulty, "and I have loved her deeply almost from the first. To me +she is the most precious thing on earth. She is far, far above me--that +I know; but, nevertheless, a great love gives courage, and I dared to +tell her of mine. I think--indeed, I am sure--that she cares for me. But +there has always been a great barrier between us, and one which has +seemed insurmountable. It seems more so than ever now, after what I have +learnt to-night. I have always been unable to believe in Christianity. +It means nothing to me. It is a beautiful fable, that is all. And I +cannot pretend, Mr. Hampson--I would not if I could. To gain the woman I +love for my wife I would do anything except live a lie. No union +founded on a fundamental deceit can be a happy one. If I pretended to +believe I should never know a moment's peace. Mary would soon find it +out by that marvellous sixth sense of hers, and both our lives would be +ruined beyond recall." + +"I fear," Hampson answered sadly, "that there are many people who +profess and call themselves Christians who would have no such scruples, +Sir Thomas. They do you honor." + +"Oh, no," the baronet answered. "It's temperament with me, that's all. +Well, again and again I have returned to the attack, but it has been +useless. Nothing will move her. However much she loved me, so she +stated, she would never marry me unless I gave up everything and +followed Christ. Those were her very words. And that I cannot do, for +Christ is nothing to me, and does not touch my heart at all. I can't +believe in Him. It is an impossibility. And I am rich, very rich. I love +my life; I am fond of beautiful things; I shrink from pain and sorrow +and poverty. And yet I don't think I am a bad man, as men go. I have no +particular vices. When you saw me at that filthy play to-night it was +quite an accident. I hate that sort of thing; the life that the +Frivolity type of man leads is absolutely disgusting to me. I felt +unhappy and bored; it happened that I had no engagement to-night, and I +turned into the first place I came to, without a thought. But Mary wants +me to give up everything and work among the poor--as a very poor man +myself. How can I give it up--my houses, estates, my yacht, and +pictures, all the things that make life pleasant? I can't do it! And +now, after to-night, Mary will be further away from me than ever." + +He spoke with grief and despair in his fresh, young voice. Obviously he +was deeply stirred and moved. But there was doubt in his voice also. He +seemed to be talking in order to convince himself. There was a struggle +going on within his mind. + +"What a wonderful man your friend Joseph must be," he said suddenly. +"There cannot be any one else like him in the world. There seems +something almost supernatural about him--only, of course, the +supernatural does not exist." + +Then Hampson spoke. + +"I know that you will believe what I am going to tell you," he said +quietly. "First, I must say a few words about myself. All my thinking +life--since I was a very young man--I have been a convinced Christian. +Even in the darkest hours my faith has not wavered, whatever my sins and +errors may have been. Joseph, on the contrary, has been as convinced an +atheist as you say that you yourself are. A hundred times in my hearing +he has derided Jesus Christ and mocked at God. He threw up a great +career at Cambridge because he felt it his duty to express his +convictions in public. Only a few weeks ago he was exactly of the same +way of thinking. To-night you heard him sway and move hundreds of sinful +men and women directly inspired by God. Like a prophet of old--even as +Jesus Himself--he preached the truth in the places of the ungodly. You, +yourself, were profoundly stirred. Now, I ask you, what does this +mean?" + +Sir Thomas had been gazing at his guest with deep interest and wonder. + +"You startle me, sir," he said. "You overwhelm me with what you tell me. +I must believe you. I do indeed! But what had changed him? Tell me +that!" + +"The power of the Holy Ghost," said the journalist. + +There was a silence. + +Sir Thomas leant back in his chair with an abstracted gaze. He had eaten +nothing, though his guest, wiser than he, had made a sufficient and +recuperative meal. + +The little Japanese spaniel rose from his sleep before the glowing fire, +and put his nose into his master's hand. Sir Thomas stroked the tiny +creature absently. + +"The Holy Ghost?" he said, fixing his eyes upon Hampson. "What is that? +Who can say?" + +"The Holy Ghost, proceeding from the Father and the Son, is of one +substance, majesty, and glory with the Father and the Son, very and +eternal God." + +"I would," the young man said, with great sadness--"would that the Holy +Ghost would come to me also." + +He had hardly finished the sentence--probably the first prayer he had +ever made since he lisped "Our Father" at his mother's knee--when the +door opened, and the butler entered the room. + +"A note, Sir Thomas," the man said. "A note from Miss Lys. The bearer +awaits an answer." + +The young man took the note with trembling fingers and tore it open. +This was what he read:-- + + "I saw you in the theatre to-night, and I knew that you were + disturbed about me. Have no fear. I am writing this from my aunt's + house, where I went immediately when we left the theatre. But I + want you to come and see me here to-morrow, quite early. Would ten + o'clock be too soon? I have something of the highest importance to + say to you. Send back an answer to say that you can come. I have + been here for an hour, and I have been thinking of you the whole + time. I have a premonition about you--a happy one! + + "MARY." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A LINK CHAPTER + + +Joseph, his followers, and Mary Lys, had passed out of the theatre +without hindrance in the dark. They encountered no one in their passage, +and found themselves in Shaftesbury Avenue as people pass from one dream +into another. The faces of all of them were pale and set, but no one +spoke. + +It is a well-known fact that hardly any one attracts attention in the +streets of London unless because of noise or eccentric behavior. This is +quite true of the daytime, and especially true at night. So cosmopolitan +is the modern Babylon, so intent upon their own business or pleasure are +the inhabitants, that a Chinaman in full native costume or an admiral in +full-dress would do no more than excite the merest passing regard. + +When, therefore, Joseph and his companions walked up the busy +pleasure-street, they were almost unnoticed. A man with a soft felt hat +pressed down upon his forehead, a bearded man wearing a black cloak of a +somewhat peculiar cut--what was there in that? A hospital nurse and a +few grave-faced men in country-clothes and obviously from the +country--who was to give them any notice? + +It happened, therefore, that the little party were well on their way +towards Oxford Street before the first member of the audience had left +the Frivolity. As far as any knowledge of their whereabouts was +concerned, they might have vanished into thin air. + +They walked on in silence, Joseph leading the way with Mary, the +half-dozen men following behind. + +When Oxford Street was reached, Joseph hailed a cab. + +"You have been with us long enough for to-night, sister," he said; "your +aunt and uncle must be anxious about you, and you owe them a duty after +you have fulfilled your duty to the Lord. Truly, the Holy Spirit has +been with us on this night, during the first few hours we have been +here. May He always be with us and bless and prosper our great +undertaking! Good-night, and God bless you, my dear sister. If it be +God's will we shall all meet again on the morrow. It may be that even +before then some one of us will receive a sign or a revelation." + +His eyes shone with mystical fire as he said this, and watched the cab +drive away into the roar of lighted traffic. + +Then he turned to his companions. + +"Brethren," he said, "I feel, I know not why or how, that my work +to-night is not yet ended. But go you to your lodgings. I will be with +you for prayer and to break the fast not long after dawn. You trust me +still? You believe in our great work? You are not terrified by the noise +and the glitter of this wicked, mighty city? If there is one among you +who would even now draw back, and once more seek the quiet hills of +Wales, then he may yet do so on this very night." + +"We have no home, Master," one of the men said, Owen Rees by name, and +obviously speaking in the name of his companions. "We have no home but +the Kingdom of God. We have set our hand to the plough, and will not +turn back. The Lord is with us," he concluded simply--"whatever and why +should we fear?" + +"Then, brethren," Joseph answered, "God be with you. That omnibus there +will take you to the door of the place by the station where we have +taken our lodging. David Foulkes knows the number, and has the money. +Pray for us all." + +With these words he turned and strode away westward. They gazed after +him until the tall, black figure was swallowed up by the crowd. + +On and on went Joseph, regardless of all around him. His mind was full +of doubt and fear, despite the calm words he had spoken to his +disciples. All the saints of God have known dark and empty moments, +wherein all seems hopeless and sad, and the great world seems closing +round, shutting them off from the Almighty. It is always thus. We are +tried and tempted to the last. We also must know faintly some of those +hours of agony which the Man of Sorrows Himself knew and suffered. + +It was thus with Joseph now. During the tremendous effort in the theatre +he had been conscious that God was with him, and speaking through the +mouth of His servant. He was the vessel of the Unseen and Awful Power. +In a flash of Divine inspiration he had known of the lives of the men +who sat below him. + +But when it was all over, a reaction set in. He was filled with gloomy +and troubled thoughts. Had his words been right words after all? Was the +impulse which had drawn him to the theatre with irresistible strength an +impulse from on high? And who was he, after all, that he should lead +others in a new crusade against the sin and wickedness of this great +city? + +He felt exactly as if some actual personality which had been animating +him was now withdrawn. + +To his left, Park Lane stretched away towards Piccadilly, the palaces +there all blazing with light. It was typical of what he had come to +denounce, to warn, and to save. + +And how was it possible that he, a weak man, could do this thing? + +He walked on. Half-way down Park Lane he saw that a coffee-stall stood +in the shadow of the Park railings, drawn up close to the curb. The +sight reminded him that he had not eaten for many hours, and he crossed +the road towards it. + +There were no customers but himself, and in a moment or two a steaming +cup of coffee and two great wedges of bread-and-butter stood before him. + +He had never enjoyed a meal so much, he thought idly--no, not even in +the recent days of starvation in Whitechapel, when an unexpected +windfall had provided him and Hampson with food. + +Whitechapel! What a lifetime of experience had been his since those +days! Wales, the mystical life with Lluellyn Lys-- + +A flush of shame and sorrow came over him. Why had he doubted even for a +single moment the power and guidance of God! Had not the Holy Ghost been +always with him--always, from the very first? + +"O Lord," he cried, in his heart, "forgive Thine unworthy servant his +weak doubts and fears! I know that Thou art with me, now, and forever +more!" + +He had concluded the short and unspoken prayer when he was startled by a +voice. + +He had not noticed that when the coffee-stall proprietor--an old man +with snow-white hair, and large, horn-rimmed spectacles--had given him +the coffee, he had returned to a large book he was reading. + +Now Joseph looked round suddenly, and realized that the old fellow was +saying the sentences aloud to himself. + +"He shall call upon Me, and I will hear him; yea, I was with him in +trouble. I will deliver him, and bring him to honour." + +Joseph put down his pennies upon the counter. The answer to his prayer +had come, once more God had spoken. + +"Thank ye!" said the old man, in a strong Scotch accent. "I doot but I +startled ye with me reading. I read aloud to my wife, who can nae mair +see to read for hersel', and sae I've got in the way o't. But they're +gran' words, lad." + +"Thank you for them, and God bless you!" Joseph answered; and with the +old fellow's kindly "Good nicht!" ringing in his ears, resumed his walk. + +He was immeasurably comforted and helped, and his whole soul went up in +a burst of praise and adoration. + +No thought of sleep came to him. He no longer felt physically weary. He +was impelled to walk and pray for sleeping London. + +"Lord, grant that they will hear me! Lord, send down Thy Holy Spirit +upon me, and give me Thy grace! Raise up great and powerful helpers for +the work, for I am weak and poor." + +He was in Piccadilly now, and as he prayed he walked more slowly. + +Oh, that those great people who lived in this wonderful street--now so +dark and silent--would open the doors of their hearts that Christ might +enter in! + +The dark was suddenly illuminated. + +A great door swung slowly open, and two men in evening dress stood +together upon the threshold. + +He turned instinctively and looked them full in the face. + +There was a startled cry of "Joseph!" And as if in a dream he mounted +the steps and passed under the lintel. + +The door closed quietly behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE COUSINS + + +It was midnight when Mary Lys arrived at her aunt's house in Berkeley +Square. Lady Kirwan had gone to bed; but it happened, so the butler told +her, that Miss Kirwan was sitting up in her boudoir, in the hopes that +her cousin might yet arrive that night. + +The greeting between the two girls was warmly affectionate. Marjorie had +always loved Mary as a sister, loved her and reverenced her deeply. The +pretty society girl was certainly of a butterfly nature, loving the +bright and merry side of life, and unwilling to look upon its darker +aspects. Yet she was unspoiled at heart, and the constant spectacle of +Mary's devotion to the suffering and poor of the world, her steadfast +pursuit of a hard and difficult path, always touched the younger girl. + +"Oh, you poor dear," she said, "I am so glad you have arrived at last! +We have all been so anxious about you. Mother has been actually crying, +and father is in a great way. Mr. Owen, the solicitor who went with you +to poor Lluellyn's funeral, has been here, and there has been something +in the paper, too! We have all been so upset!" + +While Marjorie was speaking, her maid had entered and taken Mary's +nurse's cloak from her. Mary sank into a chair. + +"Dear Marjorie," she said, "I'm so sorry! I blame myself very much. I +ought, of course, to have sent auntie a telegram. But such wonderful +things have happened and are happening that my mind has been taken from +everything else. It was very wrong of me." + +"Never mind now, dear! But how pale you are! You have gone through so +much, poor dear, of course! You must have something to eat at once, and +afterwards you shall tell me everything. Antoinette shall get you +something--would some soup or some chicken-jelly do?" + +Mary asked for a bowl of bread-and-milk, and while she was waiting gazed +round her cousin's pretty sanctum with a sense of rest and ease which +was most grateful to her overstrung nerves, her utterly exhausted body +and mind. Marjorie went into her bedroom, which opened into the boudoir, +unwilling to tire Mary by questions until she was refreshed by food. + +It was a beautiful place, this nest of the wealthy, happy maiden of +society, though it had individuality and character also. It was thought +out, the expression of a personality, and no mere haphazard collection +of costly and beautiful things flung together anyhow, without regard to +fitness or arrangements. + +How peaceful and cultured it all was! + +For some moments the tired girl abandoned herself to the gracious +influence of the place, enjoying a moment of intense physical ease. +Then, swiftly, her thoughts sprang over London from West to East. She +saw the huge, gaunt hospital, its dim wards full of groaning sufferers, +lying there in night-long agony that the rich and fortunate might build +themselves just such "lordly pleasure-houses" as this. She thought of +the flaring gin-palaces of Whitechapel, at this hour full of the +wretched and the lost. The noise, the hideous oaths, the battered, evil +faces of vile men and women--men and women made in God's image, men and +women whom Jesus came to save, but who had never had a chance. It all +came to her with sudden vividness: the sounds, the smells, the crude raw +coloring. + +A passionate fervor of love welled up in her pure heart, a passionate +rejection of the soft and pleasant things of life. Oh, that she could do +something, something, however small, to help all this sorrow and pain, +to purge London of its sores, to tell those who lived in high places and +wore soft raiment of the terrible Nemesis they were laying up for +themselves in another world! + +Marjorie Kirwan only saw a pale-faced and beautiful girl, whom she +loved, sitting at a little octagonal table sipping a bowl of milk. But +if there were any of God's angels in that room--and may we not suppose +that the Almighty Father had given so high and pure a spirit into +especial charge?--if there were, indeed, august and unseen presences +there, they saw a saint praying to God for the conversion of London and +for success in the great battle which she had come to wage with Joseph +and his companions. + +"That's better, dear!" Marjorie said, her pretty face all alight with +sympathy, and, it must be said, with curiosity also. "Now, do please +tell me what all these mysterious things mean? What is all this in the +newspaper? And your Joseph, the man with the wonderful eyes, the man we +saw in the cab some weeks ago, before poor dear Lluellyn's death, what +is he doing? Why were you with him?" + +"I don't know how I can tell you, dear," Mary said, suddenly alive to +the extreme difficulty of the task which lay before her, for how could +she hope to explain the deep solemnness and import of the coming +mission? + +"Oh, but I am sure I shall understand!" Marjorie answered. "And I am +certain it is awfully interesting!" + +Mary winced. The light words jarred upon her mood of deep fervor and +resolve; but, gathering her powers together, she did her best. + +"I believe," she said, in grave, quiet tones, "that a special revelation +is to come to London in the person of Joseph. Strange and, indeed, +miraculous things have happened. God has spoken in no uncertain way, and +the Holy Spirit has manifested Himself as He has never done before in +our time. I cannot now go into all the circumstances attending my dear +brother's death. That they were supernatural and God-sent no one who +witnessed them can have any manner of doubt. But, briefly, I can tell +you just this. The Holy Ghost has descended upon this man Joseph in full +and abundant measure, even as He descended upon the Apostles of old. +Joseph and a few devoted companions have come to London. I have come +with them. We are about to wage a holy war against the wickedness of +London, and the Spirit is with us. + +"I cannot measure or define Joseph's new nature. It is all beyond me. +But I have thought deeply about it, and this is what I think. Joseph +seems to be two persons, at different times. It almost appears to be a +case of what the French doctors who are experimenting with hypnotism +call "dual control." Yet both these natures are quite distinct from his +old one. He was an atheist, you know, until he went to Wales, but now he +is the most sincere, and convinced believer that I have ever met. So far +he is no more than a brilliant and high-minded man who is trying to live +a holy life, a man such as one has met before, now and then. But the +other side of him is quite different again. At times he seems to one +almost supernatural--or perhaps _supernormal_ is the better word. +Something comes into him. He is filled with the Holy Ghost. And there +were such strange circumstances about his change of character and dear +Lluellyn's death.... Do you know, dear, I sometimes wonder if it +mightn't be that an angel of God inhabits him at times! People can be +possessed by evil spirits, why couldn't they be controlled by good +ones?" + +Marjorie listened earnestly, the light fading out of her bright face as +she did so. + +"I don't think I quite understand," she said, with a little shudder. +"Anyhow, it all seems very strange and--What can Joseph do--what can you +do? Surely there will be a great deal of trouble and scandal! And, Mary +darling, you mustn't be mixed up in anything of this sort. Oh, it would +never do! What would father and mother say? Why, it's like"--she +hesitated for a simile. "Why, it's like being a member of the Salvation +Army! You can't go about dressed like that, dear--and in the streets, +too, with a trombone. You are not your dear sweet self to-night, dear, +so we won't talk about it any more now. You have been through so much, +no wonder you are tired. Go to bed now, and you will be better in the +morning. They will have taken your boxes to your room, and I will send +Antoinette to you at once." + +Mary rose. + +"I do need sleep," she said, with a faint smile. "I do need it +dreadfully badly. But about my boxes, Marjorie dear. I only had one, and +I have forgotten all about it, I'm afraid. I suppose it's at the station +or somewhere. Joseph led us straight from the station to the theatre." + +"The theatre! You've been to the theatre to-night! Before coming here! +Are you mad, Mary?" + +Marjorie's face had grown quite white, her voice was shrill in its +horror and incredulity. What could her cousin mean? Did she actually +assert that two days after her brother's funeral she had gone to a +theatre with a strange man, and kept the whole household in Berkeley +Square in a state of suspense, while she did this dreadful thing? + +"I can't explain, dear," Mary answered, in a tired voice. "But you will +know all about it to-morrow. It is not as you think. And now I will +really go to bed." + +She kissed her astonished cousin, and, with a faint smile, left the +boudoir under convoy of the French maid. + +After her last prayer--for her whole life was one long prayer--she fell +into a deep and dreamless sleep, but not before she had sent a certain +note.... + +There was but little sleep for Marjorie that night. The hour was not +late for her, it was not yet one o'clock, and night after night in the +season she would dance till dawn. + +But the girl was stirred and frightened to the depths of her rather +shallow nature by the things which she had heard from Mary. The deep +solemnity and utter reality of Mary's words were full of a sort of +terror to Marjorie. They came into her gay, thoughtless and sheltered +life with unwelcome force and power. She wanted to hear no such things. +Life was happy and splendid for her always. It was one continual round +of pleasure, and no day of it had palled as yet. There was nothing in +the world that she might wish for that she could not have. Her enormous +wealth, her beauty, social position, and personal fascination brought +all men to her feet. + +And incense was sweet in her nostrils! Heart-whole, she loved to be +adored. Religion was all very well, of course. All nice people went to +church on Sunday morning. It was _comme il faut_, and then one walked in +the Park afterwards for church parade, and met all one's friends. + +Every Sunday Marjorie and Lady Kirwan attended the fashionable +ritualistic church of St. Elwyn's, Mayfair. The vicar, the Honorable +and Reverend Mr. Persse, was a great friend of Marjorie's, and she and +her mother had given him three hundred pounds only a few weeks ago for +the wonderful new altar frontals worked by the Sisters of Bruges. + +But Mary's religion! Ah, that was a very different thing. It was harsh, +uncomely, unladylike even. + +And what did this preposterous business about "Joseph" mean? Marjorie +had seen the paper, and could make nothing of it. And then the theatre! +Mary was making fun of her. She could not really have meant-- + +With these thoughts whirling in her brain and troubling it, the girl +fell asleep at last. Although she did not know it nor suspect it, she +was never again to wake exactly the same person as she had been. She did +not realize that her unconscious antagonism to Mary's words sprang from +one cause alone, that a process had begun in her which was to lead her +into other paths and new experiences. + +She did not know that, at last, for the first time in her bright, +careless life, conscience was awake. + +It was not till nearly nine o'clock that she awoke. Antoinette had +peeped into the bedroom several times. When at length the maid brought +the dainty porcelain cup of chocolate, a bright sun was pouring into the +room through the apricot-colored silk curtains. + +Marjorie did not immediately remember the events and her sensations of +the night before. When she did so, they all came back in a sudden flash +of memory. + +"Antoinette," she said quickly, "find Mrs. Summers"--Lady Kirwan's +maid--"and ask if I can come to mamma's room at once." + +In a minute the maid returned. + +"M'lady is nearly dressed, mademoiselle," she said. "Elle sera bien +contente de voir mademoiselle toute de suite." + +Slipping on a dressing-gown and fur slippers, Marjorie went to her +mother's room immediately. She was bursting with eagerness and anxiety +to tell her the news. She was not in the least ill-natured or +small-minded. She had not the least wish to "tell tales." But she was +genuinely and seriously alarmed about her beloved cousin's future. + +She found Lady Kirwan already dressed and sitting in her boudoir. The +elder lady wore a face of utter consternation, and her daughter saw at +once that there was little she could tell her. + +Mrs. Summers, an elderly, confidential maid, was in the room, and there +was a pile of morning papers upon the writing-table. + +Nothing that went on in Berkeley Square ever escaped the discreet +Summers. She was perfectly aware of Mary's late arrival, and that she +had come without any luggage. When Mary had been put to bed, she had +found out from Antoinette all that the French girl could tell her. + +And the morning journals, which Mrs. Summers generally looked over +before taking them to her mistress, supplied the rest. + +All London was at this moment ringing with the news of what had happened +at the Frivolity Theatre the night before. There had been several daily +journalists among the audience, and plenty of other people either +directly connected with, or, at any rate, in touch with, the Press. + +The news eclipsed everything else. There were columns of description, +rumor and report. + +Those who had actually been present had gone straight to the offices of +their papers while still under the influence of the tremendous scene +they had witnessed. + +Joseph was in nearly every case identified with the hero of the strange +episodes on the Welsh Hills as exclusively reported in the _Daily Wire_ +special of the day before. But the wildest rumors and conjectures filled +the papers. + +Some said that the stranger and his disciples had appeared miraculously +in a sudden flash of light, and disappeared equally mysteriously. The +extraordinary and heart-piercing likeness of the stranger to the +generally accepted pictures of Our Lord was spoken of with amazement, +incredulity, dismay, or contempt, as the case might be. + +And nearly all of the papers spoke of a beautiful woman's face beside +the preacher, a face like the face of a Madonna--Raphael's picture in +the Sistine Chapel of the Vatican--alive and glowing. + +Here was something for an elderly and fashionable woman of the world to +digest ere she was but hardly from her bed! + +Lady Kirwan pushed the paper towards Marjorie with trembling fingers. + +"Read that," she said, in a voice quite unlike her usual tones of smooth +and gracious self-possession. + +Marjorie hurriedly scanned the columns of the paper. + +"Oh, mother!" she said tearfully. "Isn't it too utterly dreadful for +words! How can Mary do such things? Lluellyn's death must have turned +her brain." + +"Indeed, it is the only possible explanation, Marjorie," Lady Kirwan +answered. "Poor Lluellyn's death and the strain of that dreadful +hospital work. Fortunately, no one seems to have recognized her at the +theatre. This preaching person attracted all the attention. But Mary +must see a doctor at once. I shall send a little note to Sir William +this morning, asking him to come round. Now you saw the poor girl last +night, dear. Tell me exactly what occurred. Omit nothing." + +Marjorie launched into a full and breathless account of Mary's words and +behavior the night before. The girl was quite incapable of anything like +a coherent and unprejudiced narrative, and her story only increased Lady +Kirwan's wonder and distress. + +"I tremble to think of the effect on your poor father's health," she +said, when Marjorie had finished. "I have already been to his room this +morning. He has seen the papers and is of course very upset. This man +Joseph will of course have to be locked up. He is a dangerous lunatic. +We have sent a message to Mary, and she is to meet us both in the +library at ten o'clock. We mean to speak very seriously to her indeed. +Perhaps you had better be there too. You have such influence with her, +darling, and she is so fond of you." + +At ten o'clock Mary went down into the library. She found her aunt, +uncle, and cousin already there. Lady Kirwan kissed her with warm +affection, and Mary saw that there were tears in her aunt's kind eyes. +Sir Augustus could not rise from his chair, but as she kissed him she +saw nothing but the most genuine and almost fatherly feeling was +animating him. + +A pang shot through the girl's sensitive heart. How kind and good they +were to her--how she hated to wound and hurt them! Ah, if only she could +make them see with her eyes! + +"Now sit down, dear," Lady Kirwan said, "and let us talk over this +business quietly and sensibly, _en famille_, in short." + +Mary was greatly agitated. She sat down as she was told. All other +thoughts but those induced by the ordeal which she was about to face +left her mind. + +Now, in the early morning, the upper servants of the Berkeley Square +mansion were employed on various matters, and only a young footman was +on duty in the hall. + +It chanced that on this morning a raw lad from the country, who was +being trained to London service, was the person who answered the front +door. + +Sir Augustus had cleared his throat and had just begun, "Now, in regard +to this man Joseph, my dear Mary," when the door of the library swung +open, and the young footman, in a somewhat puzzled and frightened voice, +announced-- + +"Sir Thomas Ducaine and Mr. Joseph, to see Miss Lys!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +JOSEPH IN MAYFAIR + + +There was a dead silence in the great library. The morning sunshine +poured into it, touching and refining the rich decorations with a glory +which was greater than they. But no one spoke a word. It was a dramatic +moment. + +Then Mary spoke, and there was a rose-pink flush upon her cheeks. + +"Oh, auntie," she said, "I am so very sorry! But I asked Sir Thomas +Ducaine to come here and see me this morning. I meant to have told you. +But when you and uncle sent for me here I forgot all about it." + +"What does it matter if you did forget, dear?" she said to Mary. "Sir +Thomas, how do you do? So glad to see you!" + +"How do, Ducaine?" said Sir Augustus. "Sorry I can't get up; but this +confounded gout still hangs round me. Can't quite get rid of it." + +Mary saw, with a strange throb at her heart, that Ducaine's face had +changed in some subtle way. She had not seen him for a fortnight or +more, and she noticed the difference immediately, though she could +hardly have defined it. But what was Joseph doing here? How came the +Teacher to be with the man who loved her? Even as she asked herself the +question she knew the answer. What did _details_ matter, after all? The +Holy Ghost was leading and guiding.... + +"I want you to know my friend Joseph, Lady Kirwan," Sir Thomas said. +"Allow me to introduce him to you. Joseph--Lady Kirwan." + +"How do you do, Mr. Joseph?" she answered. "This is quite an unexpected +pleasure. Of course, we have all been hearing so much about you in the +papers lately; and, of course, you were with my poor dear nephew when he +died." + +She gave him her hand with great graciousness, marvelling at the tall, +erect figure, the serene power and beauty of the face, the wonderful +magnetic eyes. + +Joseph bowed. + +"Thank you very much, Lady Kirwan," he said in the deep, musical voice +which could rise to such heights of passion and pleading, or remain as +now, so perfectly modulated and strong. "I did not know Lluellyn for +very long, but we were like brothers for a time, and he allowed me to +see deep into his heart. I have never known a better man. I shall never +meet with anyone so good again, or so specially gifted and favored by +God." + +Lady Kirwan was unable to repress a slight start of surprise. The man +before her spoke and moved like an easy and polished gentleman. There +was no possible doubt about it. And she had expected something so very +different. + +"Present me to your friend, Ducaine," Sir Augustus said from his +arm-chair; and the Teacher shook hands with the great banker, and then +at his invitation sat down beside him. + +"Well, sir," the baronet said, "you have been making a pretty big stir +in London, it seems. The most talked-of person in England at this +moment, I suppose." + +Joseph smiled. + +"Oh, that was inevitable!" he said. "I am sorry in a way, because I +intensely dislike publicity that is merely curiosity. But I expect our +backs are broad enough to bear it. And if only I can get people to +listen, that is the great thing, after all." + +"But about last night," Sir Augustus said. "Aren't you afraid of being +arrested for making a disturbance? I've no doubt the play went a little +too far, even for the Frivolity. But such very drastic methods, you +know--well really, sir, if this sort of thing is allowed to continue--I +mean no unkindness, believe me--society would be quite upset." + +"I hope to upset it, Sir Augustus," Joseph answered with an absolute +simplicity that robbed his words of either ostentation or offence. "No; +they will take no action against me for what I did--of that I am quite +certain." + +"I by no means share your certainty," Sir Augustus answered. "Though I +am sure, for your sake, and for the sake of my niece, who, I gather, +somewhat foolishly accompanied you, I hope you're right. But I am a man +of the world, you know, while you--if you will pardon me for saying +so--hardly seem to be that." + +"I was at the theatre last night," Sir Thomas Ducaine broke in, "and I'm +quite certain they will do nothing, Sir Augustus. They wouldn't dare. I +saw everything that went on. You may take it from me that it will be all +right." + +"Well, you ought to know, my dear fellow," the banker said, obviously +relieved at the words of the younger man. "And I do hope, +Mr.--er--Joseph, that you don't mean to visit any more theatres, except +in a purely private capacity." + +"I don't think we are likely to visit any more theatres," Ducaine said +quietly. + +Everyone looked up quickly at the word "we". There was a mute +interrogation upon every face. + +Then there was a silence. Sir Augustus Kirwan was thinking rapidly and +arriving at a decision. He had made his vast fortune, had gained his +reputation and influence, by just this power of rapid, decisive thought, +mingled with a shrewd intuition which all his life had served him well. + +He saw at once that this man Joseph was no ordinary person. He had +pictured him as some noisy, eloquent, and sincere Welsh peasant. He +found him a gentleman in manner, and possessed of a personality so +remarkable, a latent force so unmistakable, that in any assembly, +wherever he went, he would be like a sword among kindling wood. + +The newspapers of that morning had exaggerated nothing at all. + +And then the man was obviously closely intimate with Sir Thomas Ducaine. +Sir Augustus made up his mind. + +"I am going to do a thing very much out of the ordinary," he said. "But +this is not an ordinary occasion, however much some of us here would +like it to be so. I am going to speak out, and I am going to ask some +questions. I think you will admit that I have a right to ask them. My +nephew by marriage, Lluellyn Lys, is dead. Lady Kirwan and I stand _in +loco parentis_ to our dear niece here, Mary Lys. She is, of course, of +age, and legally her own mistress. But there are moral obligations which +are stronger than legal ones. Very well, then. Mary, my dear girl, I +want you to tell me why you asked Sir Thomas Ducaine to come here this +morning. And did you ask Mr. Joseph here to accompany him?" + +"I asked Sir Thomas to come, uncle," she said, "because I wanted to +persuade him to meet Joseph. I wanted him to hear the truth as I have +heard it. I wanted him to believe in Christ, and follow Him with us. I +did not ask Joseph to come here. I did not know that he had ever met Sir +Thomas." + +Then Ducaine broke in. + +"I think, Sir Augustus," he said, "that here I must make an explanation. +Mary and I are old friends. We have known each other for a long time." + +He paused, with an evident difficulty in continuing, nor did he see the +swift glance which passed between Lady Kirwan and her husband--a glance +full of surprise, meaning, and satisfaction, which said as plainly as +possible, "this quite alters the position of affairs!" + +Ducaine continued:-- + +"I hate speaking about it," he said, "but you have a right to know. I +love her better than anything else in the world, and over and over +again I have asked her to be my wife. She has always refused me. I have +understood that such a great joy might be possible for me if I could +believe as Mary believes. But I couldn't do so. I could not believe in +Christ, and of course I could not pretend to accept Christianity in its +full sense unless I was really convinced. It was no use trying to trick +myself into a state of mind which my conscience would tell me was +insincere. There the matter has rested until last night. Last night I +was at the theatre, and saw Mary with Joseph. Afterwards, when I came +out, I tried to find them everywhere, but they had vanished. I was in a +terrible state of mind when I met, by chance, a friend of Joseph's--a +Mr. Hampson--who came home to supper with me. Late that same evening I +met, by a coincidence"--Joseph shook his head with a smile, but Ducaine +did not notice him--"by a coincidence, I met Joseph. We have talked all +night long, and I have come to this conclusion." + +He paused, and, in the sunlight, Mary could see that little beads of +perspiration stood out upon his brow. There was a dead silence in the +room now, every ear was strained--one heart, at least, was beating +rapidly. + +"Yes?" Sir Augustus said. + +"That I am going to throw in my lot with Joseph and his campaign," Sir +Thomas replied. "My money, and such influence as I have, will be at his +disposal. Now, I do this without any thought of what I hope to gain by +it--the priceless treasure I hope to gain." He looked at Mary for the +first time since he had begun to speak. "I am not yet convinced of the +truth of Christianity. I do not, even after this momentous decision +which I have taken, believe in Christ. But I want to believe, for the +truth's own sake. One way or another the next few months will settle the +question for me, and so I am going with Joseph." + +Sir Augustus had listened to the young man with tightly shut lips. +Nothing in his face showed what he thought. + +Suddenly he turned to Joseph. + +"Well, sir," he said, not without a kindly irony in his voice, "you may +be quite sure that London will listen to you now. With Sir Thomas +Ducaine's money and influence behind you, the path is smooth." + +"It is God's will--blessed be His name!" Joseph answered quietly. + +His voice was so humble and sincere, so full of gratitude and fervor, +that even in the mind of the hard-headed man of the world no further +doubt could possibly remain. + +"Be that as it may," Sir Augustus said, after a pause. "I suppose you +have some sort of a definite programme, sir?" + +The grave answer rang like a bell in the room:-- + +"To succor, help, and comfort all that are in danger, necessity, and +tribulation. To strengthen such as do stand; to comfort and help the +weak-hearted; to raise up them that fall; to rebuke those that do evil +in the sight of the Lord, and finally to beat down Satan under our +feet." + +Once more there was a silence. + +"And you, Mary?" Sir Augustus asked suddenly. + +"I mean to give my humble aid to this great work," Mary answered slowly. +"Oh, don't oppose me, uncle--don't forbid me! It would make me so +unhappy to do anything that you did not wish. But Jesus calls me--He +calls all of us--His voice is ever in my ears." + +"I propose," Sir Augustus said, at length, "that you all go into another +room and leave me here with my wife. I should like to discuss this with +her for a few minutes." + +When the two elder people were alone, their conference was brief and to +the point. + +"Of course, we shall withdraw all opposition," said Sir Augustus the +worldly. "The thing has quite changed its aspect. This Joseph fellow is, +of course, as mad as a hatter. But he is obviously a gentleman, and, at +the same time, quite sincere--another Lluellyn, in fact, though with a +good deal more in him. Ducaine's accession to the movement makes all the +difference. Joseph will become a fashionable fad, and all sorts of +people will join him in search of a new sensation. I'm quite looking +forward to it. London will be more amusing than it has been for years. +Then it will all die a natural death, this Joseph will disappear, and +Mary will marry Tom Ducaine, the biggest catch in London." + +"It does seem as if Providence was in it, after all," said Lady Kirwan +piously. + +"No doubt, no doubt!" the banker answered jovially. "Just make the girl +promise to make this house her home--she shall have perfect freedom to +go and come as she pleases, of course--and everything will come right." + +They had settled it to their mutual satisfaction, and were about to send +for Mary, when the butler entered the library and announced that the +Reverend Mr. Persse had called and asked for her ladyship. + +Lady Kirwan was about to say that she was engaged, and could not see the +clergyman, when Sir Augustus interposed. "I think I should see Mr. +Persse, dear," he said. And then, when the man had gone: "We'll +introduce him to this Joseph. It will be most amusing, and I want a +little amusement, after being tied by the leg like this for nearly a +fortnight. And besides, that humbug Persse will go and tell everyone in +Mayfair, and it will give the whole thing a _cachet_ and a send-off! +Don't say anything--leave it all to me." + +Sir Augustus did not like The Hon. Mr. Persse, the fashionable clergyman +of Mayfair, and it was with a somewhat sardonic smile that he welcomed +him a moment afterwards. + +The vicar of St. Elwyn's was a tall, clean-shaven priest, who would have +been pompous had he not been so suave. His face was a smooth +cream-color, his eyes ingratiating and perhaps a little furtive, while +the mouth was mobile and clever. He occupied a somewhat peculiar +position among the London clergy. He was an advanced Ritualist, +inclining to many ceremonies that were purely Roman and Continental. +But he had very little of the ascetic about him, and was as far removed +from the patient, self-denying Anglican clergy of the slum districts in +the East End, as four pounds of butter is from four o'clock. St. Elwyn's +was one of the "smartest" congregations in London. The costly splendor +of its ceremony, the perfection with which everything was done, +attracted pleasure-loving people, who would go anywhere for a thrill +that would act as the blow of a whip to jaded and enervated lives. + +Mr. Persse "catered"--the word exactly describes his methods--for +precisely that class of people whom he was so successful in attracting. + +"How do you do, Lady Kirwan?" he said, in a pleasant and gentlemanly +voice. "Ah, Sir Augustus, I hope you are better. It is a trying time of +the year. I have called this morning on a somewhat singular errand. I +was told, I must not say by whom, that he actually saw your niece, Miss +Lys, in the theatre last night--you have read the papers this +morning--yes?--in company with this extraordinary mountebank of whom +every one is talking. Of course I denied it indignantly. I have met Miss +Lys at your house, and I knew such a thing to be impossible. But my +informant is, I am sorry to say, a little prone to gossip and +tittle-tattle, and I thought, in justice to you that if I were armed +with an authoritative denial, I should be able to nip all such foolish +gossip in the bud, before it has time to spread. You know how people +talk, dear Lady Kirwan." + +Lady Kirwan certainly knew--and so did Mr. Persse. He was the hero of +many afternoon tea-tables, and an active disseminator of gossip. + +"My dear Mr. Persse," Sir Augustus said somewhat emphatically, "allow me +to tell you that you have been _quite_ mistaken in your view of the new +movement. The man whom the papers call Joseph is not at all what you +think. Sir Thomas Ducaine, for example, is hand and glove with him. I +must really correct your ideas on the point. If irregular, perhaps, the +mission will be most influential." + +"Oh, ah! I had no idea," said Mr. Persse, with remarkable mental +agility. "Dear me, is that so, Sir Augustus? Anything that makes for +good, of course, must be welcomed by all of us. I myself--" + +"I will introduce you to Joseph," Sir Augustus interrupted, with intense +internal enjoyment. "He happens to be in the house at this moment." + +That afternoon all the evening papers contained an announcement that +Joseph, the new evangelist, would preach at St. Elwyn's, Mayfair, after +evening service on the morrow--which was Sunday. + +What had happened was this: + +Joseph had been duly introduced to Father Persse. The latter, in whom +the instincts of the theatrical _entrepreneur_ were very largely +developed, saw his chance at once. Mayfair would have a sensation such +as it had never enjoyed before. + +Joseph had promised to preach without any more words than a simple +assent. That there would probably be trouble with the bishop Mr. Persse +knew very well. But he was already out of favor in Episcopal quarters, +and could hope for nothing in that direction. At the worst, an apology +and a promise not to repeat the offence of asking a layman, who was +unlicensed by the bishop, to preach in St. Elwyn's, would make +everything right. He had made the actual request to Joseph privately, +asking leave to have a few moments' conversation alone with him. + +After obtaining the promise he went back to the library, where Mary and +Sir Thomas Ducaine had returned, and announced his success. + +But when they went to look for the Teacher he had disappeared. No one +knew where he had gone, and neither Mary nor any of the others saw him +again that day. + +The West End of London waited with considerable excitement for what +Sunday would bring forth. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE SERVICE AT ST. ELWYN'S + + +At the moment when Joseph had met the Vicar of St. Elwyn's, he knew him +for just what he was. The mysterious power which had enabled the Teacher +to lay bare the sins and secrets of the strangers in the theatre came to +him then, and he saw deep through the envelope of flesh to the man's +naked soul. Nothing was hidden from him. The meanness, the snobbery, the +invincible absorption in a petty self, the hunger for notoriety and +applause--all the layers and deposits of earthly stuff which overlaid +the little undeveloped germ of good--these were plain to the spiritual +vision of the man who was filled with the Holy Ghost. + +The man's mind and its workings moved in his sight as a scientist sees +the blood pulsing in the veins of an insect under the microscope. But +directly Mr. Persse asked him to address the congregation of the +fashionable West End church, Joseph knew that, whatever motives dictated +the vicar's offer, the opportunity was from God. It was ordained that he +should mount the pulpit and deliver the message that was within him. + +He had slipped out of the mansion in Berkeley Square without bidding any +of its inmates farewell. He had no wish to make mysterious entrances +and exits. Indeed, he never thought about the matter at all, but there +was something within him that led and moved him, a force which he obeyed +without question. + +As he went out into the square, Joseph's heart was full of hope and +thankfulness to God. God had led him to the door of Sir Thomas Ducaine's +house in Piccadilly. God had been with him during the still watches of +the night as he pleaded and reasoned with the young man having great +possessions. And God had prevailed! All that had seemed so hopeless and +insuperable during the dark hours after the scene in the theatre was +over, was now lightened and smoothed away. In a few hours money and +influence had come to him, and at a time when the sword of the Lord had +but hardly left its sheath for the battle that was to be fought. + +Joseph bent his steps at once towards the Euston Road. His faithful +followers were there in the quiet hotel by the station. Ignorant of +London, knowing nothing of what was going to happen, unaware of their +leader's plans or place, they waited, trusting in God. The thought +quickened his steps. He longed to be with these trusting ones, to pray +with them that God would be with him on the morrow. + +Every now and again, as he walked, some one or other glanced curiously +at him. The face of this or that passer-by would wear a look of +curiosity and interrogation, and then, in several instances, the wonder +changed into recognition, and the wayfarers felt almost sure that this +must indeed be the very man with whose name all London was ringing. But +no one followed him. No one could be quite sure of his identity, even +though it was more than once suspected, and walking so swiftly as he +did, he was far out of hail before anyone could make up his mind to +accost or follow him. + +For his part Joseph heeded these significant signs and tokens of the +huge interest with which his personality was inspiring London very +little. He had not seen the morning papers, though he knew from what he +had heard in Berkeley Square that they were much occupied with his name +and doings. That was to be expected, he knew. But he did not care to see +what they were saying of him. He walked through the streets of London, a +man walking with God, holding high commune with the Eternal. But ere he +met his brethren, he was to have a very practical illustration of +London's excitement, and London was to have another sensation. + +He had turned into the Euston Road, and was nearing the house which +sheltered his disciples, when he saw that a huge crowd stood before it. +The road was almost impassable for traffic, and a dozen stalwart +policemen urged the thick mass of humanity to move in vain. + +Every face was turned up to the dingy red-brick front of the hotel. + +There may have been nearly a thousand people there, and the crowd was +growing every moment, and every one was gazing up at the windows of the +house. + +The strange thing about the crowd was that it was an absolutely silent +one. No one shouted or spoke, the thick clotted mass of humanity was +motionless and orderly, though it refused to obey the orders of the +police to disperse. + +What had occurred was simple enough. The landlord of the hotel was +interested from the first in the band of grave, silent men who had +arrived at his house on the evening before. He had had but a few +moments' conversation with Joseph, but the interview had powerfully +affected him. Himself one of the sidesmen of a neighboring church, an +honest and God-fearing man, who ran his temperance hotel with +conspicuous decency in a street renowned for its bad and unsavory +reputation, the landlord had read all about the strange mountain revival +in Wales. + +He identified his new guests immediately upon their arrival. It was +impossible to mistake Joseph, that strange and mysterious being whose +outward form resembled the very Christ Himself in such a marvellous and +awe-inspiring fashion. When the band had bestowed their simple luggage +in their rooms, and had left the hotel for the theatre under Joseph's +guidance, the landlord, all agog with his news, went to the local +Conservative club, of which he was a member, and told it. Then had come +the stupendous intelligence in the journals of that morning, and it had +immediately got about--as news does get about, who shall say how or +why?--that the headquarters of the evangelist were at a certain +temperance hotel in that neighborhood. + +By half-past eleven, silently, swiftly, as if drawn by some unseen +magnet, the people had collected in front of the house, and, even as +Joseph drew near, journalists from all parts of Fleet Street, summoned +by telephone and telegram, were hastening to the scene as fast as hansom +cabs could bring them. + +Joseph walked straight up to the edge of the tightly packed mass of +people. The way to the hotel door was entirely blocked, and he was at a +loss how to approach it. + +At length he touched a policeman upon the shoulder. The man's back was +turned to him, and he also was staring at the window of the hotel in +puzzled silence. + +"My friend," Joseph said quietly, "do you think you could make a way for +me? I must get to the house. My friends are there." + +Something in the deep, quiet voice startled the constable. He turned +round with a rapid movement, involuntarily knocking off the Teacher's +soft felt hat as he did so. + +The big man's face grew pale with surprise, and then flushed up with +excitement. He was a huge fellow, a tower of bone and muscle, but he +seemed no taller than the man beside him, no more powerful than Joseph +at the moment of their meeting. + +The sun was still shining, and it fell upon the Teacher's face and form, +lighting them up with almost Eastern definiteness and distinctness. But +it was not only the sun which irradiated Joseph's face with an unearthly +serenity and beauty. He had been communing with God. His thoughts were +still on high. His face was not of this world. It was "as the face of an +angel." + +The man shouted out in a loud, high-pitched voice, which sent an +immediate responsive quiver through the crowd. + +"Make way!" he called. "Make way! He's come! Joseph has come!" + +There was a sudden rustling sound, like the first murmur the upspringing +wind makes in a forest. The crowd swayed and strained as every member of +it turned, and Joseph saw a mass of stippled pink framed in black before +him. + +There was a deep organ note from many voices, interspersed here and +there with sharp cries, falsetto, high in the palate, ejaculations of +excitement, which could not be controlled. + +Then every one saw him. + +The deep note swelled into a great shout of welcome, astonishment, and +even fear, while, as the waters rolled back for the passage of Israel, +the living billows of humanity separated and were cleaved asunder. + +It was the triumph of a personality which, at this moment, was +superhuman, a personality such as had never visited the modern Babylon +before. Good men and saints have ofttimes trodden, and still tread the +streets of London, but never before had its weary, sin-worn people known +the advent of one such as this man, an "angel" or "messenger" of warning +straight from God! + +It was a scene which recalled other scenes in the dim past. Human nature +has not changed, though the conditions under which it manifests itself +have changed. Steam and electricity, all the discoveries of science, +all the increase of knowledge which they have produced, have had no real +influence for change upon the human heart. Science does not limit, nor +does knowledge destroy, the eternal truths of Christianity. This man, +coming as he did, influenced as he was influenced, had the same power +over a modern mob in London as he would have had in those ages which +fools call "dark" or "superstitious"--not realizing that the revelation +of God to man is still going on in perfect beauty and splendor, that day +by day new proofs are added to the great Central Truth of the +Incarnation. + +They swept aside to let him pass, calling aloud upon his name, in anger, +in supplication, in fear and in joy--a mighty multiple voice of men and +women stirred to the very depths of being. + +His bare head bowed, his face still shining with inward spiritual fire, +Joseph passed among them, and was lost to their sight within the doors +of the house. + +He moved swiftly up the stairs, still as if in a dream in which worldly +things had no part, with the rapt face of one who sees a vision still. +Pushing open a door, he found himself by instinct, for no one had +directed him, in the large upper chamber where the brethren were +gathered together. + +The room was a large bare place, occasionally let for dinners and other +social occasions, but ordinarily very little used. The dozen or so of +the faithful friends who had come with Joseph from their native hills +were kneeling at the chairs placed round the walls. One of them, David +Owen, was praying aloud, in a deep fervent voice. + +"Lord God of Hosts, we know how Thou didst anoint Our Lord with the Holy +Ghost and with power; Who went about doing good, and healing all that +were oppressed of the devil; for God was with Him. Anoint our Master +Joseph in the same way, that he and we with him may prevail against the +devils of London and their captain, Beelzebub. And oh, most Merciful +Father, preserve our Teacher while he is away from us from the assaults +of Satan and the craft and subtlety of evil men. Send him back to us +with good news, and armed for the battle with Thy grace and protection. +Dear Lord, Amen." + +There was a deep groan of assent, and then a momentary silence, broken +by David, who said: "Brethren, I have it in my mind to read a portion of +the Holy Book, this being the first chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. +For it is therein that we shall remind ourselves of how the Apostles +remained at Jerusalem waiting for the promise of the Father that ere +many days passed they should be baptized with the Holy Ghost. And +reading thus, we shall be comforted and of a stout heart." + +With these words the old man rose, and, turning, saw Joseph standing +among them. He gave a glad shout of surprise, and in a moment the +Teacher was surrounded by the faces of his friends. They wrung him by +the hand, they pressed on him with words of joy, the sonorous Welsh +ejaculations of praise and thanksgiving rang like a carillon in the +long, bare room. + +The tears came into Joseph's eyes. + +"My brethren," he said, and all marked the splendor of his countenance +and the music of his voice, "God has richly blessed us, and shown us +signs of His love and favor. Sit you down, and I will tell you my story +and all that has happened to me. Blessed be the name of the Lord!" + +He told them everything, leaving out no single detail, and beginning his +story from the moment on which he had left them the night before. Many +were the exclamations of sympathy and comprehension as he told of the +black doubts and fears that had haunted him upon this midnight walk. +Like all men who have passed through deep spiritual experiences, they +know such hours well. For all men who love God and try to serve Him must +endure their agony and must be tempted in the desert places, even as +Christ Jesus Who died for us was tempted. + +The simple band of brethren heard with rapt attention how the Holy +Spirit had led their chief into the dwellings of the rich and powerful, +and raised up mighty help for the battle that was to come. + +In all they saw the hand of God. Miracle had succeeded miracle from the +very moment when they laid the body of their beloved Lluellyn Lys to +rest upon the wild mountain top. + +God was with them indeed! + +It is not too much to say that during the remainder of the Saturday +London was in an extraordinary ferment. + + * * * * * + +The time was one of great religious stagnation. It was as though, as the +old chronicle of the Middle Ages once put it: "God and all his angels +seemed as asleep." For months past a purely secular spirit had been +abroad. Socialistic teachings had been widely heard, and the man in the +street was told that here, and here only, was the real panacea for the +ills of life to be found. + +And now, at the very moment of this universal stagnation, Joseph had +come to London. + +There had suddenly arisen, with every circumstance of mystery and awe +calculated to impress the popular mind, a tremendous personality, a +revolutionary from God--as it seemed--a prophet calling man to repent, a +being with strange powers, a lamp in which the fires of Pentecost burned +anew, one who "spake boldly in the name of the Lord Jesus." + +By dinner-time on the Saturday night all Mayfair knew that Joseph was to +preach at St. Elwyn's on the evening of the morrow. The evening papers +had announced the fact, and a series of notes had been sent round to +various houses by the vicar and his assistant clergy. + +St. Elwyn's was a large and imposing building, but its seating capacity +was limited. + +Mr. Persse was very well aware that the occasion he had provided would +have filled Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's as well. The crowd was sure +to be enormous. He therefore determined that admission to the service +should be by ticket only, a perfectly unjustifiable proceeding, of +course, but one which would secure just the sort of congregation he +wished to be impressed by his own activity and broad-mindedness. The +tickets were hurriedly printed and issued, some of them were sent to the +Press, the remainder to the wealthy and influential society people who +were accustomed to "worship" at this church. + +The service was fixed for eight o'clock. As a usual thing the Sunday +evensong was but poorly attended at St. Elwyn's. The fashionable world +didn't mind going to church on Sunday morning, and afterwards for +"church parade" in Hyde Park, but one really couldn't be expected to go +in the evening! The world was dining then--and dinner was dinner! + +Mr. Persse knew this, and he announced a "choral evensong" at eight, and +"an address by the Evangelist Joseph" at nine. No one, owing to the fact +of the numbered and reserved tickets, need necessarily attend the +preliminary service. Every one could dine in peace and comfort and +arrive in time for the sensation of the evening. Nothing could have been +more pleasant and satisfactory. + +The vicar, busy as he was with the necessary work of preparation, yet +found time for a few moments of acute uneasiness. Nothing had been seen +of Joseph. Would he come after all? Could he be depended upon, or would +the whole thing prove a tremendous fiasco? + +Late on the afternoon of the Saturday, Mr. Persse heard of the doings +outside the hotel which had obviously occurred within an hour of +Joseph's acceptance of the offer to preach and his mysterious departure +from Berkeley Square. Immediately on reading this the vicar had +dispatched his senior curate in his motor-brougham to make final +arrangement with the Teacher about Sunday evening. + +The young man, however, had returned with the news that Joseph and his +companions had left the house by a back entrance during the afternoon, +and that nothing was known of their whereabouts. + +During the day of Sunday Mr. Persse, though he wore an expression of +pious and sanctified expectation, found his uneasiness and alarm +increase. He showed nothing of it at the luncheon party which he +attended after morning service, and answered the excited inquiries of +the other guests with suavity and aplomb. But as the hour of eight drew +near and no word had been received from the Teacher, all the mean fears +and worries that must ever be the portion of the popularity-hunter +assailed him with disconcerting violence. + +At eight o'clock that evening there was probably no more nervous and +frightened man in the West End of London than this priest. + + * * * * * + +The stately ritual of evensong was over. The celebrated choir, in their +scarlet cassocks and lace cottas, had filed away into the vestry, +preceded by the great silver-gilt cross which Lady Kirwan had given to +the church, and followed by the clergy in their copes and birettas. + +A faint sweet smell of incense lingered about the great arched aisles, +and an acolyte was putting out the candles on the High Altar with a long +brass extinguisher. + +It was a quarter before nine, and the church was filling rapidly. The +vergers in their gowns of black velvet were showing the ticket-holders +to their seats; on all sides were the rustle of silk, the gleam of +jewels, breaths of faint, rare perfumes. + +Mr. Persse always encouraged people to come to his church in evening +dress. He said, and quite rightly, that there was no possible reason why +people who belonged to a class which changes its costume in the evening +as a matter of course should be prevented from coming together to +worship God by that circumstance. + +Nevertheless, the sight was a curious one, in comparison with that seen +at the same hour in most other churches. The women wore black mantillas +over their elaborate coiffures--just as the poorer class do at church in +Italy--but the sparkle of diamonds and the dull sheen of the pearls were +but hardly veiled. Fans moved incessantly, and there was a continuous +sound of whispering, like the wind in the reeds on the bank of a river. + +Mr. Persse was in the inner vestry with his two curates. His face was +pale, and little beads of perspiration were beginning to start out upon +it. + +"I don't know what we shall do, Nugent," he said to one of the young +men; "this is dreadful. We can't wait very much longer. Nearly every one +has come, the verger tells me. Every seat is occupied, and they are +putting chairs in the aisles. There is an enormous crowd of ordinary +people outside the church, and fifty policemen can hardly keep a way for +the carriages. There has been nothing like it before; it is marvellous. +And the man has never turned up! I don't know what to do." + +"It's very awkward," Mr. Nugent answered--he was Sir Arbuthnot Nugent's +second son, and a great pet in Park Lane and its environs--"and if the +man does not come it will do St. Elwyn's a great deal of harm." + +"It will indeed," the vicar answered, "and I don't mind telling you, +Nugent, that I have had quite an inspiration concerning him. When I +asked him to come here he assented at once. I felt--you know how one has +these intuitions--that he was a man over whom I should have great +influence. Now, why should I not induce him to take Holy Orders, and +give him a title to St. Elwyn's? He is no mere ignorant peasant, as the +general public seem to imagine. He is a gentleman, and, I am informed by +Sir Thomas Ducaine, took an excellent degree at Cambridge. The bishop +would be glad to obtain him, I feel quite sure of it, and there can be +no manner of doubt that he is a real spiritual force. Nor must we forget +that God in His Providence has ensured a most influential following for +him. I have it on quite unimpeachable authority that Joseph is to be +taken up by all the best people." + +There was a knocking at the door which led into the small courtyard at +the back of the church. + +The vicar called out "Come in!" in a voice that rang with uncertainty +and hope, and Joseph himself entered. + +The Teacher was very pale and worn. His face was marked and lined as if +he had quite recently passed through some rending and tearing +experiences, some deep agony of the soul. So Jacob might have appeared +after he had wrestled with the Angel of the Lord, or Holy Paul when at +last the scales fell from his eyes, and he received sight forthwith and +arose. + +"Ah, here you are," Mr. Persse said in tones of immeasurable relief. "We +had almost given you up! There is a very large congregation, and some of +the most important people in London are here. I hope you are prepared!" + +"God will give me words," Joseph answered quietly, though he did not +look at the priest as he spoke. + +"Oh, ah, yes!" Mr. Persse replied; "though, for my own part, I confess +to anxious preparation of all my sermons. Have you a surplice and a +cassock? No? Oh well then we can fit you out very well from the choir +cupboard." + +A surplice was found for him, the vicar knelt and said a prayer, and +then the three men, the two priests and the evangelist, walked into the +church. + +There was a stir, a rustle, and then a dead silence. + +Mr. Persse and the curate sat in their stalls, and Joseph ascended the +stone steps to the pulpit, which was set high on the left side of the +chancel arch. + +He looked down from his high place upon the faces below. Row after row +of faces met his eye. Nearly all the electric lights, save only those +which gleamed on the pulpit ledge and illuminated a crucifix behind his +head, were lowered. He saw a sheen of black and white, the dull glitter +of jewels, and the innumerable faces. + +Still standing, he lifted his hands high above his head, and in a loud +voice cried upon God-- + +"Father, give me a tongue to speak to these Thy children. Lord Jesus, +guide me. Holy Ghost, descend upon this church, and speak through the +mouth of Thy servant." + +The voice rang like a bugle through the arches, and echoed in the lofty +roof. + +And now the words of the text: "Oh, consider this, ye that forget God; +lest I pluck you away, and there be none to deliver you." + +The second terrible warning to London had begun. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CONSPIRATORS OF ST. JOHN'S WOOD + + +At precisely the same hour on the Sunday evening when Joseph ascended +the pulpit of St. Elwyn's Church a large red Napier motor-car stopped +before the gate of a smart little villa in St. John's Wood. + +The villa stood in its own grounds, and was surrounded by a high wall. +It had a general air of seclusion and retirement, though it was +obviously the property or in the tenancy of people of wealth. + +The wall was clean and newly pointed, the gate was painted a dark green, +the short drive which led to the front door was made of the finest white +marl. + +The motor-car stopped, and two men descended from it, clearly defined in +the radiance from two electric globes that were mounted on each pillar +of the villa gate. Both wore opera hats, white scarves round their +throats and black overcoats. + +One was tall, slim, and clean-shaven. His age was about twenty-six, his +hair was a pale golden color, and his face, too young as yet to be +permanently spoilt and damaged, nevertheless bore the unmistakable +imprint of a fast life. + +The young man, evil though his countenance was, conveyed a certain +impression of birth and breeding. + +His companion, on the other hand, was just as unmistakably destitute of +both. He was short and fat in figure. His face boasted a modicum of +impudent good looks, and was of a strongly Hebraic cast. The fine dark +eyes, the hooked nose, the large lips--red like a ripe plum--all shouted +the prosperous Jew. + +The younger man gave an order to the chauffeur. The automobile swung +away towards Hampstead, and the companions walked up the approach to the +villa, the door of which was opened to them by a servant. + +They entered a small hall, luxuriously furnished in the Eastern style, +and lit with shaded electric lamps. As they did so, a manservant hurried +up to them from behind some heavy Moorish curtains. + +"Where is your mistress?" said the younger of the two men. + +"My mistress is in the drawing-room, my lord," the servant answered. + +"Oh, all right! Take our coats. We will go and find her at once." + +The servant took the coats and hats, and the two men walked down a +wide-carpeted passage, brilliantly lit by globes in the roof, which made +their stiff white shirt-fronts glitter like talc, and opened a heavy +door of oak. + +The villa was the home of Miss Mimi Addington, the leading musical +comedy actress of London--the star of the Frivolity. + +The young man with the light hair and the dissipated expression was Lord +Bellina, an Irish viscount. + +He had succeeded to the title some three years before, and to a very +large fortune, which had come into the impoverished Irish family owing +to a marriage with the daughter of a wealthy Liverpool manufacturer. + +The short Jewish-looking man who accompanied him was Mr. Andrew Levison, +the theatrical _entrepreneur_ and leesee of the Frivolity Theatre, in +which Lord Bellina had invested several thousand pounds. + +Lord Bellina opened the door of the room and entered, followed by Mr. +Levison. + +Upon one of the divans, wearing a long tea-gown of Indian red, Mimi +Addington was lounging. Her face was very pale, and on this occasion +quite destitute of the little artistic touches with which she was wont +to embellish it. The expression was strained and angry, and the +beautiful eyes shone with a hard, fierce glitter. + +There had been no performance at the Frivolity Theatre on the night +after Joseph's sudden appearance there. + +Mimi Addington had been taken away in a state of wild and terrified +hysteria. It was impossible for her to play upon the Saturday night, and +her understudy, who should have sustained the part in the illness of her +principal, had disappeared, and could not be found. Moreover, several +other members of the cast had sent in their resignations, and many of +the ticket offices of the West End of town had reported that the gilded +gang of young men who were accustomed to take stalls for considerable +portions of the run of a popular piece had withdrawn their +applications. + +"Well, Mimi, my dear," said Mr. Levison, with anxious geniality, "and +how are you to-day?" + +"Bad," the girl answered in one single bitter word. + +Mr. Levison made a commiserating noise. + +"Tut, tut!" he said; "you must try and bear up, Mimi, though I must own +this abominable and unprecedented occurrence has been enough to try any +one--this Joseph." + +At the word the woman sprang from her couch with a swift feline movement +of rage. + +"Him!" she screamed, in a voice from which all the usual melody and +sweetness had entirely departed. "If I had him here I'd murder him! No, +that would be too good for him! I've thought of worse things than that +to do!" + +Lord Bellina went up to her and put his arm round her shoulder. + +"And serve him right," he said; "but try and be quiet, Mimi, you'll only +make yourself worse." + +She pushed the young man roughly away, in a blaze of passion so lurid +and terrible that it frightened the two men. + +Lord Bellina looked helplessly at Levison for a moment. The elder man +rose to the occasion. + +"Let's get to business," he said; "something must be done." + +The woman nodded eagerly and quickly, and with the same unnatural +glitter in her eyes. + +"Have you seen any of the papers?" Levison said. + +She shook her head. + +"Well, Bally and I have been going through them, and, what's more, we +have been seeing a whole lot of people, and getting various extra +opinions. You know that I can say without boasting in the least that +there are very few men in London who know the popular taste as I do. +I've made my success by realizing exactly what London will do and think +just a day or two before it has made up its own mind. I have never made +a mistake. I won't bother you now with an account of how I have arrived +at my present conclusion. It is enough to say that I am certain of it, +and that it is this: + +"There is not the slightest doubt that if this man Joseph continues in +his pleasant little games--you see, I speak without heat--theatrical +business in London will be ruined for months. There is going to be a +great wave of religious enthusiasm all over the place. This man--Joseph +he calls himself--is going to lead it. The man is an extraordinary one. +He has a personality and a force greater, probably, than any living +person in Europe to-day. There is no doubt about it. You, my dear Mimi, +will have to forego your nightly triumphs. Public opinion will hound you +off the stage and shut up my theatre, or compel me to let it as a +mission-hall for ten pounds a night! As for you, Bellina, you will have +to retire to your estates in Galway, and superintend the potato crop, +and take an intelligent interest in the brood of the Irish national +animal--the pig in short, Bally!" + +Although he spoke jauntily enough, there was a deep vein of bitterness +and sincerity underlying the Jew's words. He watched the faces of his +two listeners with a quick and cunning scrutiny. + +Mimi Addington spoke. + +"You've hit the mark, Andrew," she said, in a low voice, in which there +was a curious hissing quality--"you've hit the mark, as you always do. +What you've said is perfectly true. I know it and feel it." + +Her eyes blazed, and she put one white and shapely hand up to the ivory +column of her throat, wrestling with the agony of hysteria and hate, +which once more threatened to master her. With a great effort of will, +she calmed herself, and went on speaking. + +"But all this, Andrew, depends upon one little word, 'if.'" + +Lord Bellina looked quickly at Levison, with a glance which seemed to +say that they had already arrived at precisely the same conclusion. + +"That's it," he said; "there is always that little word, 'if.'" + +There was a dead silence in the little room, and three faces, pale and +full of sinister purpose, sought each other in a horrid trio of hate. + +The girl's face was as it had been from the first, unredeemed evil. The +countenance of the young peer had changed from its usual vacuous and +dissipated weakness into something which, bad as it was, had still a +quality of strength. He had sat cowering in the theatre while the +terrible denunciation of the evangelist had laid bare the secrets of his +life. And although he did not outwardly show how hard he had been hit, +his resentment was no less furious though less vulgarly expressed, than +that of Mimi. + +The Israelite gave no indication of his inward feelings. In truth, they +were of a quite different nature from those of the other two. He lived +for two purposes. One was to make money, the other was to enjoy himself; +he saw now that his money-making was menaced, and that his enjoyment +would be spoiled--unless-- + +Mimi Addington became suddenly quite calm and business-like. She +realized that she was in perfect accord with the other two. + +"Now let's get to work," she said. "This Joseph must be got rid of at +once. It can be done, I suppose, if we pay enough." + +"Quite so," said Mr. Levison. "It now only remains to form ourselves +into a committee of ways and means." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE WARNING + + +Like a bell the preacher's voice rang through the crowded church. + +After the delivery of the solemn and menacing text of warning, Joseph +began, suddenly and swiftly, without any of the usual preliminary +platitudes with which so many preachers in all the churches commence +their addresses. + +"I look down upon you and see you with an inward and spiritual vision. +And to me, you men and women in your wealth, your temporal power, your +beauty, your curiosity and your sin, seem as a vast Slough of Despond. + +"I need no such fantastic images, powerful and skilful as they may be, +by means of which Dante or Milton portrayed the horrors of hell, to show +me a horror more real and terrible than any of which they wrote. This is +the City of Dreadful Night. It is the Modern Babylon, where Christendom, +corrupt both in state and in society, sits by many waters, and speaks in +her heart, and boasts, 'I sit a queen, and am no widow, and shall see no +sorrow.' + +"Sin and Satan exercise a terrible dominion, ungodliness and debauchery +accompany them, for Babylon is the abode of all unclean spirits. + +"And in this church, you men and women to whom I am speaking now +represent in your very persons no small portion of the army of +wickedness which rules London and fattens upon its corruption." + +He paused for a moment, looking down from his high place with a pale +face, burning eyes, and a hand outstretched in condemnation. + +There was a soft, universal, and perceptible noise of movement, which +rose and ceased. Then all was silent again. With their eyes fixed +steadfastly on Joseph, no one had seen the vicar half rise from his seat +in the chancel, with a scared look upon his face, and a sudden +deprecatory movement of his arm. + +The preacher resumed:-- + +"In a very short time--for some of you the time is shorter than you +dream of--for to-night God has revealed much to me--you will all be +dead. The feasting, and the folly, and the fun, and the lying and the +drinking and the lust will all be over for you, and you will answer for +what you have done. + +"This is what I tell you to have constantly in your minds while I am +speaking to you to-night. You may think in your blindness, in your +folly, that I am exaggerating the evil of the time, the monstrous +wickedness of London, for which you and people like you are largely +responsible. Delude yourself with no such vain imagining, for I speak to +you as the ambassador of the Most High God, and to-night you shall hear +me. + +"The signs of the time are unmistakable. London has come to the worship +of the image of the beast, of the human spirit, which has apostatized +from God, and made itself God. You have fallen into strong delusions, +into which the Lord suffers all to fall who have not received the truth +in the love of it, that they might be saved. You worship that which the +inspired words of the Bible call the 'beast' because it denies what is +truly human, and, with all its culture and civilization, is more and +more tending to degrade humanity. + +"All who see with the eye of the Spirit know that atheistic and +materialistic systems, denying God and the existence of the Spirit, and +based upon a purely physical view of existence, and atheistic +literature, which by its poetry, fictions, and romances, diffuses the +Gospel of the flesh among the masses, grow daily, and are triumphant. +The words of Revelation have come true, and out of the mouth of the +dragon and out of the false prophet have proceeded the three unclean +spirits, like frogs. These creatures of the swamp, the mire, and the +morass are among you. Their croaking, powerless as it is in itself, yet +produces a sound which penetrates, and is heard all around; repeating +the same thing day after day, deluding men, and bringing them into the +right state of mind for the service of Antichrist. + +"You call yourselves Christians. You are here in a church, and the +presence of most of you is the most grim and ghastly mockery that the +finite mind can possibly conceive. + +"Day by day in this holy temple of the Blessed Trinity God Incarnate +comes down upon the altar yonder as the priest says the words of +Consecration--those incredibly wonderful five words which put the +Blessed Body of our Lord under the white species of the Host. Only this +morning many of you heard those + + _Jewels five words long + That on the outstretched forefinger of all time, + Sparkle for ever._ + +Next Sunday, it may be, you will hear them again, as you heard them last +Sunday. Yet you live for evil pleasure still. + +"When you think at all, you delude yourselves into imagining you are +worshipping God, when you are taking a fitful interest in a ceremony +which means no more to you than a ceremony. You come here for an hour in +the morning of one day of the week, your minds full of worldly pleasures +and the memories of your pleasant sins. You listen to the words of the +Bible in your comfortable seats, and think how quaint, far off, and +unreal they are. With a languid mental smile you hear of the devil and +the evil spirits who walk up and down the City seeking whom they may +devour. You would not smile if you were to take a short journey from +this church into the devil's country, the East End of London--if now, +with one accord, you were to drive in your carriages to those places +where the air is heavy with ceaseless curses, where hideous disease and +uncleanliness that you cannot even imagine, stalk hand in hand with +famine, despair, and unmentionable horrors of vice. + +"You would believe then, perhaps, that the devil still goes about the +streets of London doing his work. + +"I tell you this without any possibility of mistake, that you are the +servants of Satan, and that in your lives you have enrolled yourselves +under the black banners of hell. + +"And more especially than all, you are hypocrites. Outwardly all is fair +and of good report until, as happens now and then, your lives are laid +bare to the world in some hideous scandal. You go to church, your names +are seen upon the lists of those societies which endeavor to ameliorate +the life of the downtrodden and the oppressed. But what personal service +do most of you give to the cause of the God in whom you confess to +believe? You live for pleasure, and you are hypocrites. + +"Hypocrisy occurs in all the relations of your life; in the daily +intercourse between man and man, when friendship is feigned; in the +political sphere, when tyrants and self-seekers pretend a deep care for +Fatherland, and thereby lead men according to their design. In art and +science you are hypocrites, pretending a pure unselfish love to the +higher ideal, when self-gratification is all you look for; incense is +offered to the idols of the time, and pleasure is alone the end and aim, +the Alpha and Omega of existence. + +"You are as 'trees whose fruit withereth, without fruit, twice dead, +plucked up by the roots; raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own +shame; wandering stars.' + +"And all around you London grows worse and worse, while it is from its +corruption and from its misery that your sordid pleasures are distilled. + +"There are men here to-night who have won fortune, rank, and celebrity +from the wholesale poisoning of the poor. The food which the slaves of +the modern Babylon eat, the drink they drink, is full of foulness, that +you may fare sumptuously every day, that your wives may be covered with +jewels. There are men here to-night who keep hundreds and thousands of +their fellow-Christians in hideous and dreadful dens without hope, and +for ever. In order that you may live in palaces, surrounded by all the +beauties and splendors that the choicest art, the most skilled +handicraft can give, hundreds of human beings who lurk in the holes for +which they pay you must spend their lives, where no ordinary man or +woman can remain for more than a moment or two, so terrible are these +nauseous places. + +"Whole miles of ground in the modern London are thickly packed with +fellow-Christians who are hourly giving up their lives in one long +torture that you may eat, drink and be merry. At midday you may go into +the East End of London and pass a factory. Men come out of it dripping +with perspiration, and that perspiration is green. The hair of these men +sprouts green from the roots giving them the appearance of some strange +vegetable. These men are changed and dyed like this that your wives may +spend the life-earnings of any one of them in the costly shops of the +perruquiers in Bond Street. + +"In order that you may draw twenty, thirty, forty, or fifty per cent. +from your investments, instead of an honest return from the wealth with +which God has entrusted you, there are men who eat like animals. In the +little eating-houses around the works, there are human beings who leave +their knives and forks unused and drop their heads and bury their noses +and mouths into what is set before them. All the bones, nerves, and +muscles below their wrists are useless. These are the slaves of lead, +who are transmuting lead with the sacrifice of their own lives, that it +may change to gold to purchase your banquets. You are the people who +directly or indirectly live in a luxury such as the world has never seen +before, out of the wages of disease and death. Copper colic, hatter's +shakers, diver's paralysis, shoemaker's chest, miller's itch, +hammerman's palsy, potter's rot, shoddy fever, are the prices which +others pay for your yachts and pictures, your horses and motor-cars, +your music, your libraries, your clubs, your travel, and your health. + +"And what of the other and more intimate side of your lives? Do you live +with the most ordinary standard of family and personal purity before +you? Do you spend a large portion of your lives in gambling, in the +endeavor to gain money without working for it from people less skilful +or fortunate than yourself? Do you reverence goodness and holiness when +you find them or are told of them, or do you mock and sneer? Do you +destroy your bodily health by over-indulgence in food, in wine, and in +unnatural drugs, which destroy the mind and the moral sense? Do you +ever and systematically seek the good and welfare of others, or do you +live utterly and solely for yourself, even as the beasts that perish?" + +The preacher stopped in one long pause; then his voice sank a full +tone-- + +"Yes, all these things you do, and more, and God is not with you." + +Nearly every head in the church was bent low as the flaming, scorching +words of denunciation swept over them. + +Wealthy, celebrated, high in the world's good favor as they were, none +of these people had ever heard the terrible, naked truth about their +lives before. Nor was it alone the denunciatory passion of the words and +the bitter realization of the shameful truth which moved and influenced +them so deeply. The personality of the Teacher, some quality in his +voice which they had never yet heard in the voice of living man, the +all-inspiring likeness to the most sacred figure the world has ever +known, the intense vibrating quality of more than human power and +conviction--all these united to light the fires of remorse in every +heart, and to touch the soul with the cold fingers of fear. + +Accustomed as most of them were to this or that piquant thrill or +sensation--for were not their lives passed in the endless quest of +stimulating excitement?--there was yet something in this occasion +utterly alien to it, and different from anything they had ever known +before. + +Of what this quality consisted, of what it was composed, many of them +there would have given conflicting and contradictory answers. All would +have agreed in its presence. + +Only a few, a very few, knew and recognized the truth, either with +gladness and holy awe or with shrinking and guilty dread, the Power +which enveloped them with the sense of the presence of the Holy Ghost. + +There was a change in the accusing voice-- + +"But it is not yet too late. God's mercy is infinite, and through the +merits of His Son you may save yourselves while there is time. Kneel now +and pray silently as you have never prayed before, for I tell you that +God is here among you. An opportunity will be given to each one of you +to make reparation for the evil you have done, for the messengers of the +Lord have come to London, and wondrous things will come to pass! And now +pray, pray, pray! In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy +Ghost. Amen." + +With no further word the Teacher turned and quietly descended the pulpit +steps. + +Every head was bowed; hardly a single person heard or saw him move away +into the vestry, and a great silence fell upon the church. + +As if in a dream, the tall figure in its white linen ephod passed +through the outer vestry into the large and comfortable room used by the +priests. No one was there, and Joseph sank upon his knees in prayer. He +had been sending up his passionate supplications for the souls of those +without but a few seconds, when he felt a touch--a timid, hesitating +touch--upon his shoulder. + +He looked up, and saw a little elderly man, wearing the long +velvet-trimmed gown which signalized a verger in St. Elwyn's, standing +by his side. The old man's face was moving and working with strong +emotion, and a strange blaze of eagerness shone in his eyes. + +"Master," he said, "I heard it all, every word you said to them; and it +is true--every word is bitter true. Master, there is one who has need of +you, and in God's name I pray you to go with me." + +"In God's name I will come with you, brother," Joseph answered gravely. + +"Ay," the old man answered, "I felt my prayer would be answered, +Master." He took Joseph's surplice from him, divested himself of his own +gown, and opened the vestry door. "You found this way when you came, +Master," he said. "The public do not know of it, for it goes through the +big livery-stables. The district is so crowded. No one will see us when +we leave the church, though there are still thousands of people waiting +for you to pass in front. But my poor home is not far away." + +As they walked, the old man told his story to Joseph. His son, a young +fellow of eighteen or nineteen, had been employed as basement porter in +the Countess of Morston's Regent Street shop for the selling of +artistic, hand-wrought metal work. + +Like many another fashionable woman in London, Lady Morston was making a +large sum of money out of her commercial venture. But the repousse work +which she sold was made by half-starved and sweated work-people in the +East End of town, and all the employees in the shop itself were +miserably underpaid. From early morning, sometimes till late at night, +the old fellow's son had been at work carrying about the heavy crates of +metal. His wages had been cut down to the lowest possible limit, and +when he had asked for a rise he had been told that a hundred other young +fellows would be glad to step into his shoes at any moment. + +One day the inevitable collapse had come. He had found himself unable to +continue the arduous labor, and had left the position. Almost +immediately after his departure he had been attacked with a long and +painful nervous complaint. Unable, owing to the fact of his resignation, +to claim any compensation from the countess as a legal right, he had +humbly petitioned for a little pecuniary help to tide him over his +illness. This had been coldly refused, and the young man was now +bedridden and a permanent encumbrance to the old man, who himself was +unable to do anything but the lightest work. + +Mr. Persse, on being applied to for assistance, had consulted the +Countess of Morston, who was one of his parishioners, in order, as he +said, to find out if it were "a genuine case." With an absolute +disregard for truth, and in order to shield herself, the woman had told +the clergyman that her late assistant was a dishonest scoundrel who +merited no consideration whatever. + +"And so, Master," the old man concluded--"and so I lost all hope, and +tried to make up my mind to see my lad die slowly. And then I see about +you in the paper, and something comes into my mind like. And then the +vicar he tells me about this here service to-night, and that you were +coming yourself, Master. So I prayed and I prayed that I should have a +chance to speak to you. Master, I want you to raise Bill up and make him +well." + +The old man clutched Joseph by the arm, his cracked and pathetic voice +full of poignant pleading. + +"You will, won't you, Master?" he said once more. + +"Take me to the young man," Joseph answered. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +JOSEPH AND THE JOURNALIST + + +Eric Black was thirty-three years of age, and one of the chief and most +trusted writers upon the staff of the _Daily Wire_. + +Very few of the younger school of journalists in London had the crisp +touch and vivid sense of color in words possessed by this writer. His +rise to considerable success had been rapid, and his signed articles on +current events were always read with extreme interest by the enormous +public who bought the most popular journal of the day. + +Eric Black's intellect was of first class order, but it was one-sided. +He saw all the practical and material affairs of life keenly, truly and +well. But of that side of human existence which men can neither touch +nor see he was profoundly ignorant, and as ignorance generally is, +inclined to be frankly contemptuous. + +In religious matters accordingly this brilliant young man might have +been called an absolute "outsider." He never denied religion in any way, +and very rarely thought about it at all. No one had ever heard him say +that he did not believe in God, he simply ignored the whole question. + +His personal life was singularly kindly, decent, and upright. He was, in +short, though he had not the slightest suspicion of it himself, a man +waiting and ready for the apprehension of the truth--one of those to +whom the Almighty reveals Himself late. + +On a great daily paper, when some important event or series of events +suddenly rises on the horizon of the news-world, a trusted member of the +staff, together with such assistants as may be necessary, is placed in +entire charge of the whole matter. Eric Black, accordingly, was deputed +to "handle" the affair of Joseph and his epoch-making arrival in London. + +Mr. Persse, the vicar of St. Elwyn's, had sent two tickets of admission +for Joseph's address to the _Daily Wire_, and Eric Black, accompanied by +a shorthand writer who was to take down the actual words of the sermon, +sat in a front seat below the pulpit during the whole time of Joseph's +terrible denunciation of modern society. + +While the reporter close by bent over his note-book and fixed the +Teacher's burning words upon the page, Black, his brain alert and eager, +was busy in recording impressions of the whole strange and unexpected +scene. He was certainly profoundly impressed with the dignity and +importance of the occasion. He realized the emotions that were passing +through the minds of the rich and celebrated people who filled the +church. His eyes drank in the physical appearance of the Teacher, his +ears told him that Joseph's voice was unique in all his experience of +modern life. + +Enormously interested and stirred as he was, Black was not, however, +emotionally moved. The journalist must always and for ever be watchful +and serene, never carried away--an acute recorder, but no more. + +Towards the end of the sermon, when the young man saw that Joseph would +only say a few more words, a sudden flash of inspiration came to him. No +journalist in London had yet succeeded in obtaining an interview or a +definite statement with the extraordinary being who had appeared like a +thunderbolt in its midst. It was the ambition of Eric Black to talk with +the Teacher, and thus to supply the enterprising journal which employed +him, and for which he worked with a whole-hearted and enthusiastic +loyalty, with an important and exclusive article. + +He had noticed that the Teacher could not possibly have entered the +church by the main entrance. The journalist himself, in order to secure +the best possible seat, had arrived at St. Elwyn's at the commencement +of the evening service which preceded the address. + +With a keen, detective eye he had noted the little subtle signs of +uneasiness upon the vicar's face, and had deduced accordingly that +Joseph had not yet arrived. When the Teacher actually appeared, it was +obvious that he must have come by the vestry door, in order to elude the +waiting crowd. It was morally certain also that he would leave by the +same route. + +The writer saw his chance. By his side was the representative of a rival +paper, a drawback to the realization of his scheme. As his quick brain +solved the difficulty of that, he remembered Mr. Kipling's maxim, that +"all's fair in love, war, and journalism." The shorthand writer from +the _Daily Wire_ sat just beyond the rival journalist. + +"Look here, Tillotson," he whispered, in tones which he knew the +_Mercury_ man could hear, "I'm feeling frightfully unwell. I must get +out of this, if I can, for a minute or two. Of course, after the sermon +is over, Joseph will go down into the aisles. I hear that a big +reception is arranged for him at the west entrance. I am going to slip +away for a minute or two. When the preacher comes out of the vestry, +fetch me at once. I mustn't let any of the other fellows get to him +before I do. I shall be in the side-chapel over there, which is quite +empty, and where the air will be cooler." + +Satisfied that he had done all that was necessary to mislead his rival, +Black slipped out of his seat, passed behind a massive pillar, and, +unobserved by any one, slipped into the outer vestry, through the inner, +and eventually came out into the narrow passage which led to the livery +stables, where he waited with anxious alertness. + +In less than five minutes his patience and clever forestalling of events +were richly rewarded. Joseph himself, accompanied by a little old man, +whom Black recognized as the verger who had shown him to his seat, came +out together, talking earnestly. They passed him, and when they had gone +a few yards the journalist followed cautiously. He was anxious, in the +first place, to discover where the mysterious man, whose appearances and +disappearances were the talk of London, was going, and upon what errand. +He waited his time to speak to him, resolved that nothing should now +prevent him from bringing off a journalistic "scoop" of the first +magnitude. + +Joseph and the verger passed through the mews, and turning to the right, +entered one of those tiny but well-defined slums which exist in the +heart of the West End and are inhabited by the lowest in the ranks of +the army that ministers to the pleasures of the great. + +The newspaper man followed cautiously some four yards behind his quarry. +In about three minutes Joseph and his companion stopped before the door +of a small house, and the elder man felt in his pocket and produced the +key to open it. Suddenly Joseph put his hand upon the old man's shoulder +for a moment, and then, turning suddenly, walked straight up to Eric +Black. + +"Brother," he said, "you are welcome, for God has sent you to see what +is to be done this night." + +The confident young journalist was taken aback, and for a moment all his +readiness of manner left him. + +"I--er--I--well, I represent the _Daily Wire_, you know, sir. I hoped +that perhaps you would give me the pleasure of an interview. All London +is waiting most anxiously to hear something of your views and plans. I +should take it as a great favor if you could spare me a few minutes." + +Joseph smiled kindly, and placed his hand upon the young man's shoulder, +gazing steadily into his eyes with a deep, searching glance. + +"Yes," he said, "it is as I knew. God has sent you here to-night, for +you are as an empty vessel into which truth and the grace of the Holy +Spirit shall be poured." + +The journalist answered nothing. The extraordinary manner in which the +Teacher had addressed him, the abnormal knowledge which the man with the +beautiful, suffering face and lamp-like eyes seemed to possess, robbed +the other of all power of speech. + +And Black was conscious, also, of a strange electric thrill which ran +through him when Joseph had placed a hand upon his shoulder. It was as +though some force, some invisible, intangible essence or fluid, was +being poured into him. Certainly, never before in his life had he +experienced any such sensation. Still without any rejoinder, he followed +the Teacher through the opened door of the house, down a narrow and +dirty passage, and into a small bedroom lit by a single gas-jet. + +The place was scantily furnished, and grim poverty showed its traces in +all the poor appointments of the room. Yet it was scrupulously clean and +neat, and the air was faintly perfumed by a bunch of winter violets +which stood upon a chair by the bed. + +A young man, tall but terribly emaciated, was lying there. His face, +worn by suffering, was of a simple and homely cast, though to the seeing +eye resignation and patience gave it a certain beauty of its own. + +"This is my Bill," said the old man, in a trembling voice--"this is my +poor lad, Master. Bill, my boy, this is the Master of whom we have been +reading in the papers. This is Joseph the Teacher, and, if it is God's +will, he is going to make you well." + +The young man looked at Joseph with a white and startled face. Then he +stretched out his thin and trembling hand towards him. His eyes closed +as if in fear, and in a weak, quavering voice he said three words-- + +"Lord help me!" + +Joseph bent over the bed, and placed his hand gently on the young man's +forehead. + +"Sleep," he said, in a low deep voice. + +The two watchers saw a strange calmness steal over the patient's +features. The convulsive movements of the poor, nerve-twitched body +ceased, and, in a few moments more, quiet and regular breathing showed +that the magnetic touch of the Teacher had indeed induced a tranquil +slumber. + +The old man looked on, shaking with anxiety. + +"Master," he said, "can you cure him--can you heal him? He is my only +son, all I've got left in the world--my only son!" + +Eric Black, who had watched this curious scene with great interest and a +considerable amount of pity, sighed. He was not inexperienced in +illnesses, especially those terrible nervous collapses for which medical +science can do nothing, and to which there is one inevitable end. He +knew that no human skill could do anything for the sleeping and +corpse-like figure upon the bed, and he wondered why Joseph had cared to +accompany the old man and to buoy him up with false hopes. + +Joseph did not immediately answer the old man's question about his son. +Instead of that he turned quickly to the journalist. + +"Yes," he said; "but with God all things are possible." + +Black started violently. His very thoughts had been read instantly, and +answered as swiftly. Then a curious resentment mounted in his brain +against Joseph. Who was this man who sent a suffering invalid to sleep +in a moment by his hypnotic touch; who brought terror, remorse, and +shame into a great lighted theatre; who dared to tell the wealthiest and +most influential people in London that they marched beneath the standard +of Beelzebub; who even now had read his secret thoughts with unerring +intuition? + +With a slight sneer, foreign to his usual nature, but he was frightened +and was trying to reassure himself, he said-- + +"That is all very well, sir, no doubt; but miracles do not happen." + +"Oh, yes, sir, they do--they do!" cried the old verger, wringing his +hands. "Oh, don't say that, sir; miracles aren't over yet. I don't like +the way you say it, sir. God will surely never let my poor Bill die!" + +Joseph took no notice of the poor old fellow's entreaty. He spoke to +Black. + +"My brother," he said, "and what is a miracle?" + +Black thought for a moment, and then replied, though he did not know it, +in the words of Hume: "A miracle," he said, "is a violation of the laws +of Nature, and therefore impossible--Huxley showed that long ago." + +The journalist was quite unconscious of the progress of modern thought, +and in his ignorance believed that Huxley was the last word in +philosophic criticism. + +"Huxley," Joseph answered quietly, "has said that if a miracle, such as +the restoring to life of a dead man, were actually to take place, the +phenomenon would simply become a problem for further scientific +investigation. That is perfectly true as far as it goes, nor does it in +any way discredit the possibility of a miracle. Is it not a fact that +every day new natural laws, previously entirely unsuspected by any one, +are being discovered? Have not the papers of late been full of strange +news of great chemical discoveries, such as radium--electrical wonders, +such as the sending of messages without wires? What are these but +natural laws? But would they not have been miracles three hundred years +ago? + +"Supposing we admit the Divine regulation of the world by natural law, +the spiritual nature of man, and his value to God. Let us say that in +the exercise of his free will man has disturbed the poise and balance of +the moral universe by sin, and that God proposes to restore it. If we do +this, there can be no improbability in our mind that God supplements, or +even in a manner reverses, the workings of natural law by a fresh +revelation of His will and character. Have you ever seen or known of a +case in which a man or woman full of bitter hatred of God, and stained +by a life of continuous sin, has been suddenly changed by the power of +the Holy Spirit, and has become from henceforward a righteous and +Christian man? You must have come across such cases--they are common +enough in the experience of every one. Is not this a miracle? Is not +this a revelation of Our Lord Jesus Christ? + +"And if Jesus Christ be the bearer of this new revelation, may we not +regard His miracles as the spontaneous, even natural, expressions of His +Personality? Miracles are thus perfectly credible to any one who +believes in two things--the love of God and the existence of sin." + +The journalist bowed without replying. His keen and logical mind saw at +once the force of Joseph's quiet argument. He was not prepared to answer +the Teacher. Nevertheless, there was still a certain sense of +stubbornness and revolt within his mind. + +This was all very well, but it was, after all, mere abstract +philosophical discussion. It did not affect the matter in hand, which +was that the Teacher was buoying up a poor and unhappy old man with +fruitless hopes. + +When he had finished speaking to Black, Joseph turned to the old verger. +"Come, my brother," he said, "and let us kneel by the bedside of the one +who is sick, praying that the Holy Spirit may come down upon us and heal +him." + +Then Eric Black, standing against the opposite wall of the little room, +saw the two men kneel down, and saw also the marvel which it was to be +his privilege to give to the knowledge of the whole world, and which +was to utterly change his own life from that moment until its end. + +There was a long silence, and then suddenly the journalist began to be +aware that, in some way or other, the whole aspect of the room was +altered. + +It was incredibly, wonderfully altered, and yet _materially_ it was just +the same. + +The young man had known nothing like it in all his life experience, +though he was to know it again many times, when in the future he should +kneel at the Eucharist. + +Neither then, nor at any other time, was Black able to explain his +sensations and impressions at that supreme moment. With all his +brilliant and graphic power, to the end of his days the power of +describing the awe and reverence, the absolute certainty of the Divine +Presence which he experienced at the Mass, was denied him. Celebrated as +he became as a writer, his attempts to give the world his own testimony +to the Truth in a convincing way always failed. It was the great sorrow +of his career. He would have counted it as his highest privilege. But he +bore his cross meekly till the end, knowing that it was sent him for a +wise purpose, and that perhaps it was his punishment for his long days +of hard-heartedness and blindness. + +He began to tremble a little, and then he saw that Joseph's hands were +placed lightly upon the temples of the sleeping man, just touching them +with the long, nervous finger-tips. + +The Teacher may have remained motionless in this position for five or +ten minutes--the journalist never knew--and all the time the power and +unseen influence grew and grew in the silence, until the very walls of +the little room seemed to melt and dissolve beyond the bounds of sense, +and the brain, mind, and soul of the watcher to grow and dissolve with +them in one overpowering ecstasy of reverence and awe. + +And then the next thing that Eric Black knew was that the tall thin +figure which had lain upon the bed was standing in the middle of the +room, robed in its long, grey flannel gown, and that the old man had +leaped at his son with loud cries of joy and wonder, and that the two +men, locked in each other's embrace, were weeping and calling out in +gratitude upon God. + +Joseph took the journalist by the arm, and led him, unresisting, from +that awful and sacred scene. + +They were out in the quiet back street, and the young man was swaying as +if he would fall. He felt an arm pass through his, and heard the deep, +vibrating voice of the Teacher speaking. + +"Come swiftly with me, for we have to meet a great company of people in +another place, and to witness the marvellous ways of God." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE BATTLE OF THE LORD + + +Among the audience, or rather the congregation, which had assembled to +hear Joseph in St. Elwyn's Church, all those people who were intimately +connected with him had been present. + +It had been arranged beforehand, although Mr. Persse had known nothing +of it, that Joseph's followers, Sir Augustus and Lady Kirwan, Marjorie, +and Mary, accompanied by Sir Thomas Ducaine and Hampson, the journalist, +should all have seats reserved for them by ticket in the church. + +Accordingly they had all been there. After the Teacher's solemn +exhortation to private prayer, the whole congregation had awoke as if +from a dream. The influence, the magnetic influence of Joseph's +presence, was removed. Every one sat up in their places with grave and +tired eyes, wearing the aspect of people who had come back to life after +a sojourn in that strange country of the soul which lies between this +world and the next. + +The vicar, very pale and agitated, had descended from the chancel in his +surplice and biretta, and had gone among the people, whispering here and +there, frowning, faintly smiling, and only too obviously upset and +frightened in body, mind, and spirit. + +Over all the great congregation of wealthy and fashionable people there +had lain that same manner of uneasiness, that hidden influence of fear. +After a few minutes the majority of them rose and went silently from the +church. As they walked down the broad and lighted aisle it was obvious +enough, both in their walk and in their faces, that they were trying to +call back their self-respect and that mental attitude which ruled their +lives, and was but an insolent defiance of all claims upon conduct, save +only the imperial insistence of their own self-will. + +But it was an attempt, and nothing more, upon the part of those who +thronged and hurried to be quit of the sacred building in which, for the +first time in their lives, a man inspired by God had told them the truth +about themselves. + +Nevertheless, a considerable residue of people was left. They sat in +their seats, whispering brokenly to each other, glancing at the vicar, +and especially at two pews where a company of countrymen in black were +still kneeling with their heads bowed in prayer. + +It had already been bruited about in society that Sir Augustus and Lady +Kirwan, together with Sir Thomas Ducaine, were intimately connected with +the Teacher. The regard and attention of those who still stayed in the +church were, therefore, also directed to the pew which held the baronet, +his wife, and their daughter, Sir Thomas, the beautiful girl in the +costume of a hospital nurse who was recognized by some of them as the +niece of Lady Kirwan, and a little, meagre-looking man whom no one +knew--Hampson, the editor of the _Sunday Friend_, in fact. + +Mr. Persse seemed oddly ill at ease. He was unable to answer the queries +which were constantly addressed to him, but his embarrassment was +presently relieved. Sir Thomas Ducaine, followed by Mary Lys, rose from +his seat and went round about among the people. + +"If you will come to my house," Sir Thomas whispered to this or that +friend; "if you care to come, of course, Joseph is to be there to meet +us all at eleven o'clock. He will make the first pronouncement as to +what he intends to do, as to why he has come to London, and of the +message which the future holds." + + * * * * * + +On Sunday night, about half-past ten, the squares and the street +thoroughfares of the West End of London are not thronged. The exodus of +the crowds from the East End which takes place earlier every evening, so +that the poor may catch a single holiday glimpse of those more +fortunate, is by that time over and done with. + +The rats have gone back to their holes, and the spacious streets of the +wealthy are clear and empty, save only for the swift and silent +carriages of those who have supper parties, to end and alleviate the +dulness of the first day of the week in town. + +The walk from Mayfair to Piccadilly is not a long one, and Joseph, with +his companion, met few wayfarers as they walked swiftly among the swept +and lighted streets, wound in and out among the palaces of the West End. + +Eric Black strode by the side of the Teacher with never a word. His +heart was beating within him like sudden drums at midnight. His mind +and thoughts were swirling in multitudinous sensations. What he had seen +he had seen, and what to make of it he did not know. Where he was going, +he was going, and what new marvel he was about to experience he was +unable to conceive or guess. + +Yet, as he moved swiftly towards the house of Sir Thomas Ducaine, he +knew in a strange, sub-conscious fashion, that all his life was altered, +all his ideas of the future were overthrown. + +Something had come into the life of the brilliant young man, something +had fallen upon him like a sword--it would never be the same any more! + +Meanwhile, as he walked with Joseph, he walked with a man who warmed his +whole being with awe and reverence. Speculation ceased within him. He +was content to be taken where the other would--dominated, captive, and +glad. + +And in his mental vision there still remained the vivid memory of the +miracle which he had seen--the piercing cries of joy and thankfulness, +the picture of the poor old man and his recovered son, drowned all other +thought within him! + +He felt, as Moses must have felt on Sinai, the rapture and fear of one +who has been very near to God. + +They came to the door of the house in Piccadilly. + +A row of carriages lined the pavement, and the butler was standing in +the hall, surrounded by his satellites. The door was half ajar, held by +a footman, and as the two men entered there was a sudden stir and +movement of the people who were expectant there. + +Sir Thomas Ducaine, who had been talking earnestly and in a low voice to +Mary Lys, came forward quickly as the two men entered. + +His face was charged with a great reverence and affection as he took +Joseph by both hands. + +"Master," he said, "welcome! We are all waiting for you." + +Then he turned inquiringly to Eric Black. Joseph interpreted the look. + +"This is a brother," he said, "who will be very strong in the Lord. He +is a strong and tempered blade which has for long rested in the +scabbard. Our Blessed Lord has come to him this night." + +The twenty or thirty people who had been waiting round the great hall +now came forward in a group. With the exception of Joseph's friend +Hampson, there was not a single person there who was not important in +one way or another in English life. Here was a well-known and popular +King's Counsel, his keen, clean-shaven face all alight with interest and +wonder. By his side was a prominent society actress, a great artiste, as +far removed from the Mimi Addington type as light is from darkness. +There were tears in the great grey eyes, and the sensitive mouth was +quivering with emotion. A young peer, an intimate friend of Sir Thomas +Ducaine, a group of well-known society women, a popular Mayfair doctor, +a middle-aged baronet, who was one of the Court officials at Buckingham +Palace--of such materials was the advance band of people composed. + +Along the other side of the hall, in strange contrast to these +fashionable and beautifully dressed people, the faithful band of Welsh +miners and quarrymen was standing in their black coats, talking +earnestly and quietly together. + +They turned also as the Master entered. + +Then David Owen took three or four steps in front of his companions and +raised his gnarled old brown hands high above his head. + +"Blessed be he that cometh in the name of the Lord," he cried, "and who +is filled with the Holy Spirit!" + +Then he turned suddenly to his companions, and with a wave of his arm +started the "Veni Creator Spiritus"-- + + Come, Holy Ghost, eternal God, + Proceeding from above, + Both from the Father and the Son; + The God of peace and love. + + Visit our minds, into our hearts + Thy heavenly grace inspire; + That truth and godliness we may + Pursue with full desire. + + Thou art the Comforter + In grief and all distress; + The heavenly gift of God Most High + No tongue can it express. + + The fountain and the living spring + Of joy celestial; + The fire so bright, the love so sweet, + The Unction spiritual. + +A glorious burst of deep and moving harmony filled the great hall, and +thundered away up in the dome above as the Welshmen caught up the old +hymn. + +None of the other people there had ever heard anything like this in +their lives. All this melody and wild beauty, which is the heritage of +the country which produces the most perfect chorus singers in the world, +were mingled with a spiritual fervor so intense, and a love and rapture +so ecstatic, a purpose so inviolable and strong, that souls and hearts +were moved as they had never been moved before. + +The organ voices ceased suddenly, as a symphony played on some great +orchestra ceases without a single dropping note. + +Then every one saw that the Master's hand was raised in blessing. He +seemed suddenly grown taller. His face shone with heavenly radiance, he +was more than human in that moment, his whole body was like some thin, +transparent shell which throbbed and pulsed with Divine fire. + +"The blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit +be with you and remain with you always." + +The words of blessing fell upon hearts and souls long dry and arid, +atrophied by the things of this world, like the blessed rain of heaven +upon the thirsting fields. Worldly ambitions, hopes, thoughts and +preoccupations, shrivelled up and disappeared. A deep penitence flowed +over those dry spaces like a river. Sorrow for the past, resolution for +the future, the glory and awe of worship, came upon them all in the +supreme moment. + +While they were looking at the Teacher with rapt attention they saw him +suddenly drop his arm, which fell heavily to his side like a dead thing. + +The light faded from his face, the thin, blue-veined lids fell over the +shining eyes, the mouth dropped a little, with a long sigh, and Joseph +fell backwards in a deep swoon. + +The man who but a moment before realized for them the absolute visual +picture of Christ Himself, as He may have looked on one of those great +moments of tenderness and triumph which star the Holy Gospel with the +radiance of their recital, was now, indeed, a visible picture in his own +body of the "Man of Sorrows Who was acquainted with grief," The Redeemer +Who fell by the way. + +Sir Thomas and Hampson were standing by the Teacher as he fell, and it +was their arms which received the swooning form, carried it into an +inner room, and laid it gently upon a couch. + +But it was Mary, tall, grave and unutterably lovely in her healing +ministry, who chafed the cold, thin hands, wiped the damp moisture from +the pale and suffering brow, and called back life into the frail and +exhausted vessel of God. + +While the Teacher was being tended by his friends Sir Thomas had given +orders to the butler to take his other guests into the large +dining-room, where there was some supper waiting for them. + +Every one assembled in the great, rich room, with its Jacobean carvings +and family portraits by Gainsborough and Reynolds. + +But nobody ate anything, or sat down at the long, gleaming table. One +and another took a sandwich, but every one was too expectant and highly +strung to think of food in the ordinary way. + +Probably for the first time in the lives of the society people there, +they felt a real brotherhood and equality with the rugged sons of toil. +The cultured accents of Park Lane mingled with the rougher voices of the +Master's disciples. Distinguished and famous men walked with their hands +upon the shoulders of the peasants from Wales. Beautiful women in all +the splendor of dress and jewels hung upon the words of some poor +servant of God whose whole worldly possessions were not worth twelve +inches of the lace upon their gowns. + +It was an extraordinary scene of absolute, uncalculating love and +brotherhood. As in the very early Christian time, the mighty and the +humble were once more one and equal, loving and beloved in the light +which streamed from the Cross on which the Saviour of them all had died +in agony that they might live in eternity. + +There was no single trace of embarrassment among Joseph's followers. +They answered the eager questioning of the others with quiet and simple +dignity. The marvellous story of Lluellyn Lys was told once more with a +far greater fulness of detail than the public Press had ever been able +to give to the world. The miracles which had taken place upon the wild +hills of Wales were recited to the eager ears of those who had only +heard of them through garbled and sensational reports. + +During the half-hour all the London folk were put in possession of the +whole facts of Joseph's mission and its origin. + +Probably never before in the social history of England had the force and +power of the Christian faith been so wonderfully and practically +manifested as at this moment. Degrees, dignities, rank, wealth, and +power were all swept away, and ceased utterly to exist. The Divine love +had come down upon this company in full and overflowing measure, and a +joy which none of them had known before, and which seemed indeed a very +foretaste of the heavenly joy to come, was with them all. + +Sir Thomas Ducaine came into the room. + +"My friends," he said, "the Master has recovered and asks you to pray +and talk with him upon this great and happy night. He is waiting for you +all in the ball-room upstairs. Will you come with me?" + +The young baronet led the way. They followed him out of the dining-room, +through the hall in which the liveried servants stood about with +awe-struck faces, up the wide marble staircase with its crimson carpet, +and into the vast room, lit by a thousand lights, which gleamed in the +mirrors with which the walls were lined, and were reflected again in the +smooth and shiny parquet floor. + +And in the midst of all these splendors, seated upon a chair at one end +of the room, they saw the dark-robed figure of the Master, with a sweet +and gentle smile upon his face. + +Without a word they grouped themselves round him, and, still smiling on +them in love and brotherhood, Joseph began to speak. + +"My dear brothers and sisters," he said quietly, "you have come here +to-night from the church where I spoke as the Spirit of God compelled me +to speak. The words that I said were there given to me, and to many of +the congregation they must have seemed harsh and cruel. But out of all +that congregation you have chosen to be with me to-night, and I pray and +believe that a new life is to begin for all of you, even as it began for +me no long time ago. + +"I am going to ask you now how, and in what measure, each of you is +going to live for Christ Jesus. Think about your past life and think +about your future life in this world! God has given to all of you great +powers and opportunities. In the ranks of this world you are set high. I +and my companions have come from the hills of Wales, led by God, our +band captained by the Holy Ghost, to wake this great and sinful city +from its sloth and evil. By the blessing of the Holy Trinity you are +assembled here to-night under the roof of a young man who is very rich +and powerful in England. By the direct operation of the Paraclete, that +young man is being led to the Truth, and has thrown in his lot with the +servants of God. At the beginning of our battle we are thus provided +with money and influence, and all the weapons with which God in His +Divine wisdom makes it necessary for His servants to use. + +"What are you, also, going to do for Jesus?" + +There was a silence for a full minute when Joseph had made an end of +speaking. + +Then, quite suddenly, a strong, clear, and confident voice rang out in +the great ball-room. + +Eric Black, the journalist, was speaking. + +"Sir Thomas Ducaine, Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, "I am not one of +you. I am a writer for the Press, and, I may say, a writer who is +successful and whose words are read by very many people. I have never +before to-night thought much about religion, nor have I loved God or +tried to serve Him. But from now, with the help of the Holy Spirit, I +vow and pledge myself to write nothing that is untrue; nothing which +shall not, in intention and effort, redound to the glory of God. With +such power as in me lies, I enlist under the banner of this man, which I +verily, truly and honestly believe to be the banner of Jesus. And there +is one thing more that I must say. I beg you will excuse my presumption, +and listen patiently to me for a moment, for I have a wonderful thing to +tell you." + +Then, in crisp, vivid sentences, full of color and movement, he told the +listening company of the miracle of healing he had just witnessed in the +West End slum. + +He spoke as he wrote, keenly and directly, with the technical power of +producing an actual picture in the hearer's or the reader's brain. + +While he was telling his experience Joseph's eyes were half closed. His +hands were resting upon the arms of his chair, and he was quite +motionless. + +When he had finished, the keen-faced King's Counsel began to speak in a +somewhat hard and metallic voice, though with force and determination in +every note of it. + +"For my part," he said, "without any further preamble I will say just +this. I will never again defend a cause in the courts in which I do not +believe. I will give up all the methods and intrigues by which I have +hoped to secure a judgeship. I will no longer court a political party in +whose policy I do not really believe, in order that I may gain a prize. +And when I am not exercising my profession and doing the duty to which +God has called me, in an honest and Christian fashion, I will spend a +right proportion of my wealth and time in helping Joseph to alleviate +the sorrows and miseries of the poor, and to bring London back to Jesus +Christ!" + +The silence which ensued after the great lawyer, in his brusque and +determined fashion, had made his confession of faith, was broken by a +voice which was like water falling into water. + +The great actress was speaking, gently and humbly. + +"For my part," she said, "I can do little, oh, so very little. But I +have enough money to live on quietly, and there will still be some to +spare for the poor people. I will act no more. My art, such as it is, +has been well thought of in this world. But I am sure now that I cannot +go on playing. There is so much more to do for God. And, perhaps, I do +not yet know, because I have not thought it out, it may not be good in +the sight of Heaven that I should continue in my profession. That is +what I will do, Master." + +Young Lord Ashbury, Sir Thomas Ducaine's friend, began to mumble and +stutter. He was a short, thick-set young fellow, with a clean-shaven, +pleasant, but not particularly intellectual countenance. + +"I--er--really, I don't quite know, but I--well, it's difficult to say, +don't you know! At any rate, I'll do what I can. Old Tommy Ducaine is a +good lead, and I haven't done all I ought to do--not by a very long way. +But I will if I can. If I can help the poor Johnnies Joseph talks about, +I jolly well will. That's all!" + +Very red in the face, the Earl of Ashbury subsided into silence. + +The night wore on, and many hearts were laid bare, many natures opened +themselves before the Teacher. + +It was close upon dawn when the last carriage rolled away, and the door +opened to let the latest guest out into Piccadilly. + +The battle of the Lord was begun. People were flocking to the +enlistment. The standard of Jesus was raised in the Babylon of our +time. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE CONSPIRATORS + + +Mr. Andrew Levison, the lessee and part proprietor of the Frivolity +Theatre, sat in his private office, which led out of the foyer, one damp +and foggy afternoon, a fortnight after Joseph's now famous sermon at St. +Elwyn's. + +Since that momentous occasion, much water had run under the bridge. + +Joseph and his companions had become the question of the hour. What, in +the first instance, had been mere excitement and surmise, was now an +accepted and revolutionary fact. Except by hearsay, London in reality +was divided into two camps--those who were for, and those who were +against the Teacher. + +And the hostile party was infinitely greater than the friendly one. + +In the first instance, the attitudes of the religious bodies were +extremely varied. + +Mr. Persse himself, whose church had become suddenly emptied of its +congregation, and whose personal prestige had suffered an irremediable +injury, headed a most virulent and persistent antagonism. + +But the really fine brains and spiritual natures in the Anglican +Church--including those noble men who live the lives of paupers among +paupers, and work like galley-slaves--were much more friendly. They +noticed that the Teacher made no personal assumptions. He did not say +that those whose sins he remitted were cleansed. He baptized none; he +called himself an ambassador, but not a priest of God. + +That, in His inscrutable providence, the Father had richly endowed this +man with the Holy Spirit, that he did indeed walk under the direct +guidance of God, seemed to these good men impossible to doubt. They +were, despite the certain restrictions of thought to which their +training and temperament inclined them, ready to believe that because +the advent of one directly inspired by the Holy Ghost in the sense with +which the Apostle Paul was inspired was outside their personal +experience, it was not to be rejected upon that account. + +As far as in them lay, in the measure of their opportunities and +possibilities, they held out the welcoming hand. + +But, as was inevitable, it was the Free Sects who were in the front of +the Teacher's army--as far as definitely Christian people went. + +During the last few days of the fortnight which had intervened between +the present moment and the sermon in St. Elwyn's, Dissent, with the +exception of the Unitarians, had spoken in no uncertain way in favor of +Joseph's mission. They saw, with a singular unanimity, that here was a +deeply spiritual revival of religion upon true evangelical lines. Here +was a greater than Wesley even, a force and a personality which could +not be explained away by any accusations of charlatanism or +self-interest, a man with a personal magnetism, a power over the human +soul, a power even over the material things of life which was verily +without precedent or likeness since the times of the holy apostles +themselves! + +That much of his teaching was definitely Catholic in tone, that he sent +people to the true channels of grace--the Sacraments of the Church--did +not alienate them as it might have done in another. It was now known +that in his youth Joseph was a baptized and confirmed member of the +Church of England, that he in no way repudiated it nor stood outside it, +that he constantly received the Blessed Sacrament. But Nonconformity was +not hostile. + +The word "miracle," so long derided and discredited by the materialists +and scientists who denied the immanence of God in all things, was now +once more in the air. + +The whole of England was awaking to the realization of strange new +happenings. Men who had never thought or spoken of such things before +now talked in low voices, one with the other, of the Holy Ghost. "God is +a Spirit"--once more men said this to each other. + +The healing of the verger's son was known to all the world. It was a +fact beyond possibility of doubt, more authenticated and certain, more +easily capable of proof than any of the Roman Catholic wonders of +Lourdes or Treves. The colder analysis of the Anglo-Saxon temperament +had been brought to bear upon the event. Evidence was weighed and +sorted as the impulsive, emotional Latin temperament is incapable of +doing. + +And, in the event, even the most sceptical were forced to admit that +there was no doubt at all. + +The thing had really happened! + +Eric Black had put it upon record. His vivid and powerful description +had touched the heart of the nation. Then it was the turn of the +investigators, and they had been unable to discover a single flaw in the +sequence of cause, operation, and effect. + +It was said also, and hinted everywhere, that a certain famous family +had brought an afflicted daughter to the Teacher. Nothing was known +definitely, but the generally believed story was this:-- + +The Lady Hermione ---- was the third daughter of the Duke of ----. The +family, one of the most famous in the historical annals of England, was +still rich in power and wealth. But it was a physical ruin. Sons and +daughters for the last three generations had been born feeble in brain +and stunted in body. + +A mysterious taint was on the ancient house, that Nemesis for past +grandeur that Thackeray has drawn for us in the picture of the Marquis +of Steyne in _Vanity Fair_. + +The young and lovely lady had been seized with a mysterious and +incurable disease of the mind. She had disappeared from society. It was +said that her condition was terrible; that at times even the doctors and +nurses who watched over her impenetrable seclusion shrunk back from her +in fear. + +It was as though she was possessed of an evil spirit--so the tale had +long been whispered. + +And now it was abroad and upon the lips of every one that the poor +living body inhabited by some evil thing had been brought to the +Teacher, and that all was once more well with the maid--the soul +returned, health and simplicity her portion once more. + +These things had made a most lasting and powerful impression upon the +public mind. Who Joseph was, what were the reality and extent of his +powers, what was to be the outcome of his mission: these were the +questions of the day, and all the world was asking them. + +The non-religious world sneered. The majority in "Christian" England was +also divided in unequal portions. Most people said that Joseph was a +marvellous trickster and cheat--a cheat and impostor such as England had +probably never seen before, but still a rogue of rogues. + +But among the last and poorest sections of the London community a very +different opinion obtained. + +They didn't know anything about religious matters, they cared still +less. "God" was a word which gave point and freedom to an oath. The +churches were places in which one was adjured to give up even the +miserable pleasures which made life possible to be endured. The Bible +was the little black Book you kissed in the police courts. + +But Joseph was a friend. + +Great things were going to happen in the congested districts of the +lost. A material Saviour seemed to have risen up. A man who rebuked the +rich and powerful, who poured words of fire upon the tyrant and the +oppressor, had come to London. There was help then! A light was to dawn +in the sky, there was a little patch of hope in the sombre environment +of lost and degraded lives. + +Joseph and his brethren were coming to help! + +So all London was stirred to its depths. + +Vested interests were threatened in innumerable ways, a revolution in +public thought and sentiment was imminent, in some way or other, for all +classes of society; things were going to be changed. + +Things were going to be changed. + +And, whether it knew it or not, the Modern Babylon was in the throes of +a spiritual revolution. + +The Holy Ghost brooded over the waters. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Andrew Levison sat in his private office at the Frivolity Theatre. + +It was a richly furnished and comfortable place. + +The walls were decorated with large photographs of the popular actors +and actresses of the day. A heavy Turkey carpet covered the floor, a +great writing-table of carved oak was littered with papers, electric +lights in little silver shells glowed here and there; it was the luxury +of a business room. + +Andrew Levison's theatre had remained closed since the night when Joseph +had first appeared in London and denounced the place. The attendance at +many other theatres of the same class was dwindling enormously. It was +exactly as the shrewd Jew had foreseen--the advent of the evangelist +bade fair to ruin, or, at any rate, terribly embarrass, his unscrupulous +enterprises. + +He sat in his big arm-chair of green leather and smiled. A light +yellow-colored cigar was between his firm white teeth. He drummed gently +upon the writing-table with fat white fingers. No more happy-looking and +prosperous person, at peace with the world and with himself, could have +been seen anywhere--upon the surface. + +It is a great mistake to imagine that the most evil passions of the +heart show themselves in the face. Criminals, with the exception of +those unhappy people who live _continuously_ by crime, are no monsters +in aspect. Your murderer is, as often as not, a mild and +pleasant-looking man. Mr. Levison looked what he was--a good-natured, +shrewd and money-loving Hebrew, no more. Yet, as he sat there, he was +planning murder, and waiting the arrival of an assassin! + +It is always thus, though many people have neither sufficient +imagination nor knowledge of life to realize it. A man may be a panderer +like Levison, or a robber like any successful rascal in the City, and +yet he may still be a kind husband and father and a generous friend. + +The Son of God, Who hung upon the shameful tree of Calvary, knew this. + +"This day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise" was not said idly. Man is +made in God's image, however marred or defaced the Divine imprint may +be. + +It is well to remember this sometimes, though it is fatal to allow our +appreciation of its truth to make us kind to sin or tolerant of it. But +may we not hope that no single son or daughter of God is ever entirely +lost? + +The theatrical manager's secretary, a pale and tired-looking girl, who +took down his letters in shorthand and typed them upon her machine, +knocked at the door and entered. + +"Oh, Miss Campbell, what is it?" Levison said, making a pretence of +looking up from a pile of papers. + +"A man has come," the girl said, "who tells me that he is one of the +supers in the last play. There is another man with him, and he says that +he thinks you will see him. His name is Harris, and he states that he is +one of the regular people here." + +"Well, that's nothing to do with me," Levison answered. "They ought to +see the stage-manager. He looks after all those things. However, you may +tell them to come in. I suppose they're hard up, and want a shilling or +two? I shan't disappoint them, I dare say." + +He smiled, a flashing, good-humored smile of strong white teeth; and the +girl went out, thinking that under a brusque exterior her employer had a +heart of gold, after all. + +In a moment or two more the carefully arranged comedy was over, the door +of the office was carefully closed, and two seedy-looking, clean-shaven +men stood in front of Mr. Levison's writing-table. + +"This is my pal, Mr. Levison," one of the men said, in a hoarse and +furtive voice. + +He spoke softly and in the way of one who shared a confidential secret. + +Levison looked the other man up and down with a keen and comprehensive +regard. The fellow was shorter and stouter than his companion. His face +was like a mask. It betrayed nothing whatever, although its obvious +concealment of what lay behind--the real man, in short--was rather +sinister. The light, red-flint eyes kept flickering and shifting from +side to side, and that was the only betrayal of uneasiness apparent. + +"What's your name?" Levison said; and then, with a sudden wave of his +hand, he corrected himself. "No, I don't want to know your name, after +all. That matters nothing to me. But what I am going to ask you is just +this: Has Harris explained to you what you are going to be paid to do?" + +"'E 'ave, gov'nor," said the man. + +"He's told you exactly?" + +The fellow nodded, without further waste of words. + +"Very well, then," Levison answered--"then there is no need of any +explanations on my part. At the same time, I will say just this: A +certain person has got to be put out of the way. That you already +understand. But there need not necessarily be anything more than that. +An injury that would incapacitate the person we know of, would put him +on the shelf for a long time, would be quite enough." + +The man smiled. The whole ghastly immobility of the mask was suddenly +transformed into a hideous and mocking countenance. The tool of the arch +criminal betrayed his superiority to scruple, and in that moment the +hired assassin was contemptuous of the greater scoundrel and the weaker +man. + +"As you like, gov'nor," he said, in a low, oily voice. "It's all one to +me and my pals--give you my word. There's lots of ways of putting a cove +through it wivout doin' of 'im entirely like. But the whole thing's just +as easy." + +Levison, whose face had suddenly grown very white, made him an impatient +and terrified movement with his hand. + +It was one thing to call up one of the foul creeping things of London, +it was quite another to hear hideousness voicing horror in a quiet and +accustomed room. + +"I want to hear nothing at all!" he said, in a high-pitched and unsteady +voice. "Don't tell me! Don't tell me! I don't want to know!" + +Once more the assassin smiled--dreadfully. + +"Very well, gov'nor," he whispered. "That's all O.K. Leave it to me, and +it'll be safe as 'ouses. Day after ter-morrer this 'ere Joseph is going +down into Whitechapel wiv a lot of 'is swell pals. Sort of explanatory +tour, it is. 'E's a-goin' to show them 'ow the pore live. Tike 'em over +the rookeries and preach the Gospel. We'll 'ave lots of chances, and no +one won't know 'oo done it. It's a question of terms, that's all. You're +a gen'leman, you are, sir; and Mr. 'Arris 'ere, an old pal of the boys, +is a gentleman, too. Guv'nor, what are you a-goin' to hoffer?" + +Levison's hand trembled as he opened a drawer of the big writing-table. + +He withdrew ten sovereigns in gold. + +"Take this," he said, "and when the thing is done, I'll give you twenty +more of the same. Harris will give them to you from me. And now, for +God's sake, get out of my sight!" + +The last words burst from him in a high, almost feminine note, and as +the two men shuffled away into the fog of the empty foyer, the fat, +white hand of the Jew went up to his throat, clutching at it in sick +hysteria. + +"In the name of God, get out of my sight!" + +Was there ever a more blasphemous parody and mockery than this? He who +taketh the name of the Lord God in vain-- + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +REVEALED IN A VISION + + +Mary Lys stood in the great hall of the East End Hospital, where she had +worked for three years. She was saying good-bye. + +A little group of men and women stood round her--the men mostly young, +clean-shaven, alert, and capable in expression; the women in the uniform +of hospital nurses. + +Some of the women were crying quietly, and the great visiting surgeon, +Sir Abraham Jones himself, alternately tugged at his grey, pointed beard +or polished the glasses of his pince-nez. + +"Well, nurse," said the great man, "I must go. I am due in the operating +theatre. I am sure that I am only representing the thought of the whole +hospital staff when I say how deeply we all regret that you are leaving +us. You have--ahem!--endeared yourself to every one, and your work has +been splendid. You have been a pattern to your colleagues in every way. +I hope that in the new sphere of life you have chosen you will be happy +and prosperous." + +Sir Abraham was not an orator in ordinary life, though he had been known +to rise to real eloquence when lecturing upon some of the obscurer forms +of appendicitis. But the short, jerky sentences came from his heart as +he shook the hand of the beautiful girl who, like himself, was a soldier +in the noble army of those who fight disease and death. + +They all crowded round Mary. The nurses kissed her, the young doctors +wrung her by the hand and tried to express something of their feelings. + +Men and women, they all loved and valued her, and every one knew that +when she went out through the great doors for the last time they would +all suffer a loss which could never be replaced. + +It was over at last. No longer in her nurse's dress, but clothed in the +ordinary tailor-made coat and skirt that young ladies wear in London +during the mornings, Mary got into the waiting hansom cab. The driver +shook the reins, the horse lurched into a trot, there was a vision of +waving hands and kindly faces, and then the long, grimy façade of the +hospital slid past the window and was lost to view. + +Mary Lys was no longer a hospital nurse. + +As she drove westward--for she was on her way to her aunt's house in +Berkeley Square, where she was about to make her home for a time--she +reviewed her past life, with its many memories, bitter and sweet. It had +been a hard and difficult life--a life of unceasing work among gloomy +and often terrible surroundings. And moreover, she was not a girl who +was insensible to the beauty and softer sides of life. Culture, luxury, +and repose were all hers did she but care to speak one word to Lady +Kirwan. She was constantly implored to leave the work she had set +herself to do. + +She had always refused, and now, as she looked back on the past years, +she knew that she had been right, that her character was now fixed and +immovable, that the long effort and self-control of the past had given +her a steadfastness and strength such as are the portion and attributes +of few women. + +And as the cab moved slowly up the Strand, Mary Lys thanked God for +this. Humbly and thankfully she realized that she was now a better +instrument than before, a more finely tempered sword with which to fight +the battle of Christ. + +For though Mary was to live beneath the roof of Sir Augustus Kirwan, she +was not going to live the social life--the life of pleasure and +excitement as her cousin Marjorie did. Mary had left the hospital for +one definite purpose--that she might join the army of Joseph, and give +her whole time to the great work which the evangelist was inaugurating +in London. + +Joseph and his brethren had now definitely taken up their abode in a +large house in Bloomsbury which Sir Thomas Ducaine had given them to be +the headquarters of their mission. Workers of all classes were flocking +there, and Mary knew, without possibility of doubt, that she was called +to the work. Every fibre of her spiritual nature told her the truth. +From the first she had been mysteriously connected with the movement. +The supernormal chain of events, the long succession of occurrences that +were little less than miraculous, told their own tale. In common with +all those people who had anything to do with Joseph, and who were about +to join him, Mary was sure that she was being directly guided by the +Holy Ghost. + +She thought of her dead brother, the strange, prophet-like figure of the +mountain and the mist, the real beginner of it all, the man who had +taken the empty brain and soul of Joseph himself, and as it were, +through his own death, by some strange psychical law unknown to us, +poured the Spirit of God into them as into a vessel. + +Mary knew that Lluellyn was aware of her determination, and that he +approved it. There were few people who drew more comfort or believed +more heartily in the glorious truth of the Communion of Saints than Mary +Lys. + +She felt that Jesus Christ had conquered death, that our loved ones are +with us still, and the time of waiting is short before we shall see them +once again. + +She did not know how near she was to another special manifestation of +God's grace and power, for, saint-like and humble as were the pious +maids and matrons who listened to the teachings of Our Lord and +ministered to Him, she did not realize the growth of her own soul and +how near to the great veil her life of purity and sacrifice had brought +her. + +The cab passed out of the Strand into Trafalgar Square, and, the traffic +being less congested, began to roll along at a smarter pace than before. + +But Mary noticed nothing of her surroundings as the vehicle turned into +Pall Mall. From the sweet and tender memory of her dead brother her +thoughts had now fallen upon one who was becoming increasingly dear to +her, but one for whom she still prayed--and over whom she +mourned--unceasingly. + +From the very first Mary had been strongly attracted by Sir Thomas +Ducaine. Even in the past, when she had definitely refused to listen to +his suit, she had known that she was upon the brink of something more +than mere affection for him. He was strong, his life was clean, his +heart kindly and unspoiled. + +But she had restrained herself with the admirable self-control which her +life of sacrifice had taught her; she had put the first beginnings and +promptings of love away. + +He did not believe, he could not believe. God the Father, God the Son, +God the Holy Ghost were incredible to him. He would not pretend. He +would not seek to win her by a lie, but the Holy Trinity meant nothing +at all to him. + +But then Joseph had come. The Teacher had influenced the rich and famous +young man, so that he had given him everything. Without having realized +in its essential essence, the truth of Joseph's mission and the Divine +guidance the Teacher enjoyed, Sir Thomas had nevertheless changed his +whole way of life for him. + +"Father, teach him of Thyself. Lord Jesus, reveal Thyself to him. Holy +Spirit, descend upon him." Thus Mary prayed as she was being driven out +of her old life into the new. + +It was about one o'clock when the cab stopped at Sir Augustus Kirwan's +house in Berkeley Square. + +"My lady and Miss Marjorie told me to tell you, miss," the butler said, +as he greeted Mary, "that they are both very sorry indeed that they +cannot be here to welcome you. They would have done so if they possibly +could. But my lady is lunching at Marlborough House, Miss Mary. Sir +Augustus is in the City." + +The man handed her on to a footman, who conducted her up the great +staircase, at the head of which Mrs. Summers, Lady Kirwan's maid, and +confidential factotum, was waiting. + +The good woman's face was one broad grin of welcome. Summers was in the +confidence of her mistress, and had long known of the efforts made by +the baronet and his wife to induce Miss Lys to give up her work at the +hospital and take up her residence in Berkeley Square. + +Only that morning Lady Kirwan had said, "Everything is really turning +out quite well, after all, Summers, though, of course, one could not see +it at first. The arrival of this eccentric Joseph person has really been +a blessing in disguise. Sir Thomas Ducaine is more devoted to Miss Mary +than ever, since they are both mixed up in this mission affair. We shall +see everything come right before very long." + +"Your rooms are prepared, miss," said Summers. "Bryce has told you why +m'lady and Miss Marjorie couldn't be home to welcome you. But I'll send +some lunch up at once to your boudoir. And there's a letter come this +morning. Sir Thomas' valet brought it himself. I've put it on your +writing-table, miss." + +There was a world of meaning and kindly innuendo in the woman's voice as +she ushered Mary into the luxurious suite of rooms which had been made +ready for her. + +But the girl noticed nothing of it. Her thoughts were in far distant +places. + +Nothing could have been more dainty and beautiful than the rooms which +were to be hers. + +The most loving care had been lavished on them by her aunt and cousin. +One of the head men from Waring's had been there on that very morning to +put the finishing touches. + +Mary's eyes took in all the comfort and elegance, but her brain did not +respond to their message. She was still thinking of and praying for the +man who loved her and whom she loved, but the man who had not +yet--despite all his marvellous generosity--bowed his head and murmured, +"I believe." + +Then she saw his letter upon the writing-table--the firm, strong +handwriting, with the up-stroke "d" and the Greek "e," which denote a +public school and University training. + +Her heart throbbed as she took up the square envelope and opened it. + +This is what she read-- + + "Lady Kirwan has told me you are coming to them to-day. I want to + see you most particularly. I bring you a message from Joseph, and I + bring you news of myself. At four o'clock I will call, and please + see me. Dearest and best, + + "THOMAS SHOLTO DUCAINE." + +She smiled at the signature. Tom always signed his full name, even in +the most intimate letters. It was a trick, a habit he always had. For +the moment Mary was like any other girl who dwells fondly on some one or +other little peculiarity of the man she loves--making him in some subtle +way more than ever her own. + +Mary lunched alone. Her luxurious surroundings seemed to strike an alien +note. She was not as yet at home in them, though when the meal was over +she drew up her chair to the glowing fire with a certain sense of +physical ease and enjoyment. + +In truth, she was very tired. The strongly emotional incidents of her +farewell at the hospital, the concentration of nervous force during her +drive to Berkeley Square, had left her exhausted for the moment. She was +glad of the comfortable silence, the red glow from the cedar logs upon +the hearth, and, as the afternoon lengthened into the early dusk of a +London fog, she sighed herself to sleep. + +Death has been defined as the cessation from correspondence with +environment--a logical and scientific statement which, while it is +perfectly accurate, still leaves room for every article of the Christian +faith. Sleep, in a sense, is this also: and we have the authority of +Holy Writ itself that many revelations have come to the dreamer of +dreams. + +Mary lay back in her arm-chair, and the dewy loveliness of her face +would, in its perfection, have shown no trace of what was passing in her +sub-conscious mind to an onlooker. But all her life was being unfolded +to her in a strange panorama as she slept. From first to last everything +that had ever happened to her was unwound as if from the spool of Fate +itself. She saw all the events of her life as if she were standing apart +from them and they were another's. But, more than all this, she saw +also, in a dread and mysterious revelation, the purpose, the controlling +purpose of God, which had brought these events about. + +It was as though she was vouchsafed a glimpse into the workings of the +Divine mind; as if all the operations of God's providence, as they had +been connected with her past, were now suddenly made clear. + +On some dark and mysterious fabric, half seen and but little understood, +the real pattern had flashed out--clear, vivid, and unmistakable, while +the golden threads that went through warp and woof were plain at last. + +On and on went the strange procession of events, until she found herself +upon the lonely mountain-tops of Wales. Her dead brother was there, and +praying for her. She heard his passionate, appealing voice, she saw with +his very mind itself. Joseph was there also, and Mary began to +understand something of the miracle that had made the Teacher what he +was, that had changed him as Saul was changed. + +And at this moment the color of the dream began to be less real and +vivid, while its panoramic movement was greatly accelerated. + +She was as though suddenly removed to a great distance, and saw all +things with a blurred vision as the present approached. Then her +sensations entirely changed. She no longer saw pictures of the past +explained for her in the light of a supernatural knowledge. All that was +over. Her whole heart and mind were filled with the sense of some +strange presence which was coming nearer and nearer--nearer and nearer +still. + +Then, quite suddenly and plainly, she saw that the figure of Lluellyn +Lys was standing in the centre of the room, clear and luminous. The +figure was that of her dead brother as she had last seen him, and seemed +perfectly substantial and real. It was seen in the darkness by an aurora +of pale light that seemed to emanate from it, as if the flesh--if flesh +indeed it was--exhaled an atmosphere of light. + +Mary fell upon her knees. "Brother--brother!" she cried, stretching out +her hands in supplication. "Dear brother, speak to me! Tell me why you +are here from the grave!" + +There was no answer in words. The face of the figure grew much brighter +than the rest, and the weeping, imploring girl saw upon it a peace so +perfect, a joy so serene and high, a beatitude so unspeakable, that her +sobs and moans died away into silence as she gazed at the transfigured +countenance in breathless awe and wonder. + +For the face was as the face of one who had seen God and walked the +streets of Paradise. + +It smiled upon her with ineffable tenderness and greeting, and then she +saw that one arm was raised in blessing. For some seconds the figure +remained there, motionless. Then with a slight movement, though no sound +accompanied it, the luminous outline turned towards the door. The right +arm still remained in its attitude of blessing, the left pointed to the +portal. + +There was a sound of footsteps outside in the passage, the figure began +to sway and shake, precisely as a column of vapor shakes in a wind. It +grew fainter and more faint, and as Mary tried to clasp it, calling +aloud on it to stay, it vanished utterly away. She was awake now, and +for some reason she could not explain she rushed to the wall and turned +on the switch of the electric light. In a second the room was +illuminated. It was just the same in its ordered daintiness and comfort. +Nothing was altered, there was nothing whatever to show that any ghostly +visitor had been there. + +There was a knock at the door. + +Sir Thomas Ducaine entered, and there was something upon his face which +sent the blood leaping through Mary's veins once more in the shock of a +sudden revelation. + +She knew now why her brother had come to her in her vision! Sir Thomas +entered the room, and came straight up to Mary. + +"My dear," he said, "I asked especially to see you alone because I have +something to tell you. Lady Kirwan knows; she gave me permission to +come. Mary, can you guess what I have to say?" + +The light upon his face had told her even before he spoke; the ghostly +visitor had told her; her heart had told her. + +"I think I know," she said. "I think that my prayers are answered." + +He caught her by both hands, and looked steadily into her eyes. + +"My love," he said, in a voice that trembled with emotion, try how he +would to control it, "I have come to tell you just that." + +Her face did not change. It bore the traces of the supernatural +experiences through which she had passed; there was a rapt ecstasy in +the eyes, the lovely lips spoke of love, belief, hope. Her face did not +change, but it already wore the look he had longed to see upon it. She +had never seemed more beautiful. "It has been a gradual process, Mary," +he continued, speaking quickly and nervously. "But it has been quickened +at the last. And I owe it all, absolutely and utterly, to Joseph. The +night that Joseph came into my life, when I saw him at the theatre, and +when I found him standing on the steps of my house late on the same +night, was the beginning of everything for me. All life is changed. I +look upon it in a new way. I see it with fresh eyes. I believe in God, I +know that Jesus died for me, I know that the Holy Ghost is immanent in +this world--I believe!" + +"I knew it," she said in a low voice. "I knew it directly you entered +the room. God sent a messenger in a dream to tell me." + +"He has us in His care," the young man said reverently. "But I have +much to tell you, Mary. Do not tire yourself." + +He led her to a large ottoman, which came out at right angles to the +Dutch fireplace, and sat down by her side. He had released her hands +now, and by an intuition she knew his motive. He would not speak to her +of love until he had told her the whole history of his conversion, the +dawn of his belief, his acceptance of Christ! + +He wanted her to be sure, to understand the change in him to the full, +and he would take nothing until it was fairly due! + +He was indeed a true and gallant gentleman, Mary thought, as she heard +the grave young voice and saw the firelight playing upon the strong, +clean-cut profile. + +She had been attracted to him from the first. No one had ever stirred +her as he had done. Liking and powerful attraction had grown into love, +strong, steadfast, and sure. + +But there had always been that great and terrible barrier between them. +She could not give herself to an infidel. For that was what it meant, +ugly and harsh as the word was. He did not really and truly believe +there was a God. He was an atheist and infidel, even as Joseph himself +had been. + +And now, and now! It was all over, God had spoken and revealed Himself +to the blind, ignorant heart! + +The man was speaking. Thomas was telling her of how this marvel had come +about. + +"It was not only Joseph's great magnetic powers, the marvellous way in +which he can stir one, that influenced me. A great orator is not +necessarily a Christian; the personal force which hypnotizes and directs +the thoughts and movements of a crowd is not necessarily derived from +belief. I recognized, of course, that I had come in contact with a +personality that was probably unique in the modern world. I saw it at +once, I was dominated by it; I put my money and influence at Joseph's +disposal because I was perfectly certain of his goodness and his power +for good. I knew that I was doing right. But that, after all, was not +accepting the Christian faith. Even the miraculous things that I have +seen him do, or know of his having done, did not in themselves convince +me. Natural causes might account for them. They might be produced by +powers superior in intensity, but not different in kind, to those latent +in all of us." + +Mary listened carefully to the grave and reasoned statement. Every now +and then there was a little break and trembling in the young man's +voice, telling of the hidden fire beneath the veneer of self-control. +The lovely girl who listened half smiled with love and tenderness once +or twice. + +"And what was it really, dear, in the end, that brought you to the foot +of the Cross?" she said gently. + +At the word "dear" he started violently, and made a quick movement +towards her. His face was flushed with joy, his eyes shone. + +Then, with a great effort, he restrained himself. She could see how his +hands were clenched, could hear how his breathing came fast from his +parted lips. + +"It was the simplest and yet the most wonderful thing possible," he +said. "I had been thinking about these questions for months. I read +theology. I went to the churches and chapels of every sect, and, as you +know, I couldn't believe. I know the reason now. I wanted to believe in +order that we might be closer together, you and I, love of my heart. I +did not want to believe because my heart was touched, and I loved God! +Then Joseph came into my life, and more and more I tried. But it was +still of no use. + +"But I think my heart must have been softened insensibly by being in +daily contact with a nature so saintly and a personality so much in +communion with the Unseen as Joseph is. A little time ago, as I was +reading the Gospel of St. John, one night, just before I went to bed, a +sudden revolution took place in all my feelings and desires. These were +the words-- + +"'And after eight days again His disciples were within, and Thomas was +with them; then came Jesus, the doors being shut, and stood in the +midst, and said, Peace be unto you. + +"'Then saith He to Thomas, reach hither thy finger, and behold My hands; +and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into My side; and be not +faithless, but believing. + +"'And Thomas answered and said unto Him, My Lord and my God.' And when +I read those words, Mary, they seemed to come straight to my heart, to +be spoken to me, Thomas Ducaine. I saw, for the first time, the long, +frightful agony upon the Cross. I knew, as I had never known before, +what the Son of God had suffered for me. A great rush of love and +adoration came over me. With streaming eyes I knelt and prayed for +forgiveness, I lost myself in Him and for His sake alone. All thoughts +of what I might gain from surrender to Jesus and from loving Him were +absent from my mind and consciousness. I loved Him for Himself--very God +and very man, begotten not made, being of one substance with the Father. + +"I said the Lord's Prayer, and then I slept. I would not come to you at +once. I told Joseph, and he blessed me and seemed happier than I had +ever seen him before. 'Go to her at once, Thomas,' he said to me. Tell +her that Jesus has come to you, that your great earthly love is +irradiated and made perfect by your love for Him Who was present at the +marriage feast of Cana.' + +"But I wouldn't go at once. I distrusted myself. I wanted to wait and +see if my new belief would stand the test of time, if it was more than a +mere passing emotion of the brain. Yet, every day since then it has +grown stronger and more strong. I have beaten through the waves of +doubt. I have overcome the assaults of the powers and principalities of +the air, who would obscure the light for me. I am a Christian, with all +the splendor which that word confers. I have reached the Rock of Ages, +and the tempest is over, the winds are stilled. + +"To-day Joseph said this to me: 'Delay no longer. You are a new man in +Christ Jesus. It has been given to me to know that the hour has come. Go +to my dear sister in Christ, that gentle, lovely lady, and tell her of +your love. She will be ready and waiting for you. This, also, I know, +for it has been told me by the Holy Ghost.' + +"That is the message which I said in my letter to you that I was to +bring you from Joseph. And now, and now, dearest, most beautiful and +best, you have heard all my story." + +With these words he suddenly rose and stood above her, looking down at a +head which was now bowed, at white hands that were clasped together upon +her knees. + +There was a momentary silence, and then a single deep sob of happiness +and realization came from the girl upon the sofa. + +The sound dispelled all his hesitation. It brought him back from the +mystical realms of thought and spiritual memory to pure human emotion +and love. + +He stooped down quickly and caught her by the arms, raising her up to +him with a strong grasp that would not be denied. + +Then two words rang out like a bell in the quiet room--"At last!" + +She was in his arms now, close--ah, close! to the heart that beat for +her alone. The freshness of her pure lips was pressed to his. + +The moment was of heaven, and from heaven. Two pure and noble natures +were united by God in their love for each other. And now they are +sitting side by side and hand in hand. + +The world is changed for them. Never again will it be the same, for they +have tasted of the fruits of Paradise, have heard music which echoes +from the shining pavements of the blest ... + +"Darling, there are no words at all in which to tell you how I love you. +I have not a thought in the world which is not bound up in you, not a +wish that is not centred in you." + +"And I in you. Oh, Tom, I did not know it was possible to be so happy." + +How long they sat thus in the quiet, dainty room neither of them could +have said. Time, so slow moving and leaden-footed in the hours of hope, +flies with swiftest wings when hope has blossomed into fruition. + +There was so much to say and tell! All their thoughts and hopes about +each other from the very first must be mutually related, all the hidden +secrets laid bare. + +"Did you really think that of me, sweetheart? Oh, if I'd only known!..." + +"But I wasn't different to other girls, really, darling. It was only +because you, you loved me!" + +Happy, roseate moments! Perhaps they are the best and finest which life +has to give, that God bestows upon his servants here below. + +The door opened, and a little group of people entered the room--Lady +Kirwan, Sir Augustus, Marjorie, and with them Joseph himself. + +No one spoke for a moment. The new-comers all saw that the lovers were +sitting hand in hand, that a declaration had been made. + +Then pretty Marjorie, regardless of form or ceremony or the presence of +the rest, ran to her cousin, put her arms round her neck, and kissed +her. + +"Oh, you dear darling!" she said; "I am so glad--oh, so, so happy!" + +It was most prettily and spontaneously done. Nothing could have been +more natural, charming or welcome. + +There were tears in Sir Augustus' eyes, as that genial, kind-hearted +worldling held out his hand to Sir Thomas Ducaine. + +"I congratulate you, my dear boy," he said heartily. "I see how it is +with my dear niece and you. I love Mary like a daughter, and there are +few people to whom I would rather trust her than to you. God bless you +both! Mary, love, come and kiss your uncle." + +There was a hum of excited, happy talk, and then Sir Augustus, a man who +had had always a great sense of "celebrating" events by some +time-honored ceremony, suddenly said: + +"Now we'll have a drink out of the loving-cup to Mary and Sir Thomas." + +Nobody there wanted wine, but no one liked to baulk the genial and +excited old gentleman. But, just as he was about to press the bell and +give the order, Sir Augustus suddenly paused. He looked at Joseph, for +whom, by this time, he had acquired considerable regard, not unmixed +with fear, though quite destitute of any real understanding of him. + +"Oh--er--Mr. Joseph," he said, "I hope you won't mind----" + +Sir Augustus had an idea that religion and teetotalism were the same +thing and were inseparable. He was quite unable to differentiate between +the two, no doubt because he knew absolutely nothing of either. + +"Mind, Sir Augustus!" Joseph said, in surprise. "Why should I mind, and +for what reason?" + +The baronet did not quite know what to answer. "Oh, well, you know," he +said at length. "I had an idea that you might object. Never mind." + +Joseph laughed. The grave and beautiful face seemed singularly happy. +Care had passed from it for a time; he looked with eyes of love at Mary +and Sir Thomas, with eyes of blessing and of love. The stern denunciator +of evil, the prophet and evangelist of God, who warned the world of its +wickedness, had disappeared. In his stead was the kindly friend +rejoicing in the joy of those who were dear to him. + +A servant brought a great two-handled gold cup, which had been filled +with wine. + +Sir Augustus handed it to Lady Kirwan. The dame lifted the heavy +chalice, jewelled with great amethysts, which had been presented to her +husband by the Corporation of the City of London. + +"My dear, dear niece," she said, while the tears gathered in her eyes; +"I drink to your continual happiness, and to the name I bore, and which +you bear now, the noble name of Lys!" + +Then Sir Augustus took the cup. "To my pretty Mary, whom I love as if +she were a child of mine!" said the good man; "and to you, Tom Ducaine, +who will make her a true husband, and are a gallant lover." + +He passed the cup to his daughter Marjorie. The girl lifted it, looked +straight at Mary Lys with a curious meaning and intentness in her eyes, +and then said, "With my love of your true love on this happiest of all +happy hours." + +She handed back the golden cup to her father, who was about to set it +down upon a side table, when the Teacher spoke. + +"Are you going to leave me out of your ceremony?" Joseph said. + +"Very sorry, very sorry," the baronet replied, in confusion. "I wasn't +quite sure." He handed the cup to Joseph, but the Teacher only lifted it +on high. "May God bless your union, my dear brother and sister," he said +simply, and placed it on a table nearby. + +The deep music of the voice, the love in it, the deep sincerity, came to +them all like a benison. + +"You have given me everything in this world and hopes of everything in +the next, Joseph," said Sir Thomas Ducaine. + +"You were Lluellyn's friend," Mary whispered. + +"And you're a jolly good fellow, Mr. Joseph," said Sir Augustus, "in +spite of all your critics, and I shall be glad to say so always." + +At that, for the first time during their knowledge of him, Joseph began +to laugh. His merriment was full-throated and deep, came from real +amusement and pleasure, was mirth unalloyed. + +Joseph finished his laughter. "May this hour," he said gravely, "be the +beginning of a long, joyous and God-fearing life for you, Mary and +Thomas. Hand in hand and heart to heart may you do the work of the +Lord." + +Then, with a bow to all of the company assembled there, he went away. + +When he had left the great house and walked for a few minutes, he came +upon a huge public-house--a glittering structure at the corner of two +streets. + +He stopped in front of the great gaudy place, looked at it for a moment, +sighed heavily, and went in. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +"AS A BRAND FROM THE BURNING" + + +Joseph pushed open the swing-doors of the big public-house and entered +beneath a lamp marked "Saloon Bar." + +His face was quite changed. + +In the short time which had elapsed since he left Sir Augustus Kirwan's +house he seemed another person. The great eyes which had looked upon the +lovers with such kindly beneficence had now the strange fixity and +inward light that always came to them when he was about his Master's +business. The face was pale, and the whole attitude of the Teacher was +as that of a man who is undergoing a great nervous strain. + +He walked down a passage. To his left were the doors of mahogany and +cut-glass which led into those boxes which are known as "private bars" +in the smart drinking-shops of London. To his right was a wall of +brightly glazed tiles, and in front of him, at the passage end, was the +door which led into the saloon bar itself. Pushing this open, he +entered. + +He found himself in a largish room, brilliantly lit by the electric +light, and triangular in shape. + +Along two of the walls ran padded leather lounges, before the third was +the shining semicircular bar, gleaming with mahogany, highly polished +brass, and huge cut-glass urns of amber spirit. + +In one corner of the room, seated at a marble topped table, a man was +talking to an overdressed woman with a rouged face and pencilled +eyebrows. + +In front of the counter, seated upon a high cane stool, was a young man. +He wore a long brown over-coat of a semi-fashionable cut and a bowler +hat pushed back on his head. His fair hair was a little ruffled, and his +weak, youthful, though as yet hardly vicious face, was flushed high up +on the cheek-bones. He was smoking a cigarette of the ten-for-threepence +type, and chattering with a somewhat futile arrogation of merriment and +knowingness to the barmaid, who had just set a glass of whisky-and-water +before him. + +For a minute or two, hidden from view by an imitation palm in a pot of +terra-cotta which stood upon the counter, Joseph escaped notice. He +could hear part of the conversation from where he was--any one might +have heard it. + +It was the usual thing, vapid, meaningless, inane. A narrow intellect, +destitute alike of experience and ideals, with one gift only, youth, +imagined that it was seeing "life." + +Two fools! Two weak, silly, unconsidered members of the rank and file, +without knowledge, manners or charm. + +Yet for these two Christ had died upon the Cross no less surely than He +had died for prince or pope or potentate. It was thus Joseph thought. + +The Teacher's eyes were wet with tears, a beautiful compassion dawned +upon his face. He went up to the young man and touched him upon the +shoulder. + +At the touch the young fellow started and turned suddenly with a +convulsive movement. His face was yellow with fear, his jaw dropped, his +hands trembled; he was a repulsive picture of weak, nerveless, and +uncontrollable terror. + +The barmaid looked on in amazement. She marked the fear in her admirer's +face, and with swift intuition knew from what cause it proceeded. + +It was not the first time in her poor, stunted life, with its evil +surroundings, that she had seen a gay young spark touched upon the +shoulder; seen the acquaintance of a month vanish for ever, never to +come within her ken again save only in a few brief paragraphs in the +newspaper reports of the Central Criminal Court. + +"Who's your friend, Charlie?" the girl said, with a sickly and +inadequate attempt at merriment. + +Joseph looked at her. + +"My friend," he said, in his grave and beautiful voice, "I come to him +with authority." + +The girl gasped, then she turned and walked hurriedly to the other end +of the bar, taking a newspaper from a drawer and holding it up with +shaking fingers. She didn't want to be mixed up in the thing, at any +cost she must pretend that she was unconcerned. + +The great law of self-preservation--the animal law--had its way with her +now. She was alone in the world; she had her living to get; she could +not afford to be mixed up with any scandal. She acted after her kind, +and fled as far as she could. Who shall blame her? + +Joseph took the young man by the arm and led him to the farthest corner +of the room. The man and woman who had been there when Joseph entered +had gone by now; the place was quite empty. + +"Charlie" found himself sitting side by side with the stranger who had +led him so easily from the counter. In the shrewd, mean brain of the +young man one emotion had been succeeded by another. He had realized +after the first moment of terror that Joseph was not what he supposed. +The enormous relief of this certainty was succeeded by resentment and +puerile anger. He feared that he had given himself away in "Belle's" +eyes. + +"Now, look here," he said suddenly, "you startled me for a moment, and I +won't deny you did. But a gentleman doesn't come and interrupt another +gentleman when he's talking to a lady. Who on earth are you, anyhow?" + +The high, piping voice, the silly expression, the uncertain, childish +rage were unspeakably pitiable. + +For answer Joseph put his hand into an inside pocket of his coat and +produced a little leather bag. + +It was full of sovereigns. While the young clerk stared at him with +wondering, fascinated eyes, the Teacher took fourteen pounds from the +bag and then returned it to his pocket. + +He placed the money in the young man's hand. + +"God sent me here to give you this," he said quietly. "It is the exact +sum you have stolen from your firm. Replace it, and sin no more. God +sends you this last opportunity." + +The young fellow's face grew suddenly wet. He took the money with a hand +that had lost all nervous force. He could hardly hold the coins. + +"Who are you?" he said, in a faint whisper. "How did you know that I had +sto--took the money?" + +"The Holy Spirit brought me to you," Joseph answered very simply. "A +short time ago I was leaving the house of some friends. A dear sister +and brother of mine--I speak in the Christian, and not in the family +sense--had just plighted their troth. They are to be united in happy and +honorable wedlock. I was coming away with my thoughts full of them, and +feeling very happy in their happiness. For, you must know, that I love +those two people very dearly. Well, as I passed by this place, I was +told that there was some one within it who was very miserable. I knew +that I must come in and comfort you, and take you out of the net which +had enmeshed your young life. Your mother sits at home in Balham, and +longs for you. The small pittance that your father's insurance money has +secured for her is just enough to support her; but it is not enough to +bring any comfort or brightness into her life. But you never go home in +the evenings until very late. She sits waiting for you, yearning over +her only son, and praying to God for his reformation. But you never +come. And when at last you go down home by the last available train, +you are often more or less intoxicated, and your mind is always filled +with debased images and ideals, disordered longings and evil hopes. And +for that reason your mother can never get very near you in spirit. What +you are becoming repels her and wounds her motherhood. And now you have +begun to steal from your employers, and you walk in deadly fear. In the +back of your mind you know that discovery is inevitable before very +long. Yet you put the thought away, and try and persuade yourself that +everything will come right somehow, though you have no idea how. And +during the last fortnight the process of deterioration has been more and +more rapid. You have been drinking heavily to deaden your conscience and +alleviate your alarm. You have known the end is near. Is not all this +the truth?" + +The tears were rolling down the weak, young face. The flaccid mouth +quivered; the neck was bowed. + +"All this, sir," said the young man--"all this is true." + +"A broken and contrite heart," the Teacher answered, "are not despised +of God. By his great mercy I have been sent to you to save you. Restore +the money you have stolen, but do far more. Turn from darkness; seek +light. Come to Jesus Christ. Boy, you have heard of what is known as the +'Great Refusal'; you know how the young man with great possessions could +not, and would not, give them up to follow the Son of God? But you deny +Jesus for a pot of beer! You give up your hope of eternal life to come +and the peace of God in this wicked world for nothing--nothing at all? +Now come with me to my house in Bloomsbury, my house of godly men. There +you shall pray and repent, and from there you shall go home cleansed and +purged of your sin, filled with the Holy Spirit, ready and anxious to +lead a new life, walking from henceforth in Christ Jesus." + +They went out of the place together. The boy never cast a backward +glance at his inamorata of a few minutes ago. He followed the Teacher in +blind obedience. He was as one stunned. They came into the big +old-fashioned square where was the house which Sir Thomas Ducaine had +given to Joseph and his brethren. The windows were all lighted up, and +there was a small crowd lingering in front of the door. + +"They are all praying within," Joseph said. "To-morrow we are to go down +into the worst places of the East End. A party of great people are +coming with us. We have persuaded them to come, in order that they may +see for themselves what these parts of London really are like." + +He spoke quietly, and in a purely conversational tone, as if to an +equal. He knew well what the poor lad who walked so humbly by his side +was suffering. He knew of the remorse and shame, but also of the hope, +which were pouring into the young man's heart. And he knew also that all +this was but a preparation for what was to come--that there must, +indeed, be a final agony of surrender, an absolute and utter "giving-in" +to Jesus. + +So, as they walked across the square, he tried to calm his captive's +nerves by a quiet recital of the great and hopeful things that they were +to do on the morrow. + +Yet even to Joseph it was not then given to know what things the morrow +would bring forth. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MURDER AND SUDDEN DEATH + + +The big house was very plainly furnished. What was absolutely necessary +had been put into it, but that was all. Sir Thomas Ducaine had been +astounded at the simplicity of the arrangements. The wealthy young man, +accustomed as he was to every luxury and amenity of life that riches +bring, was most anxious to make the place more comfortable. + +"My dear fellow," he said to Joseph, "you can't possibly live like this. +Why, it's barer than a work-house! You must really let me send you some +things in." + +But the baronet had not in the least succeeded in altering the Teacher's +determination. + +"The Lord's work is to be done," Joseph had answered. "We are here to do +it, and our thoughts are set on other matters. We have no need of these +things." + +"But you don't think comfort or luxury, I suppose you would call it, +wrong?" + +"Certainly not, if a man has earned it, is robbing nobody in acquiring +it, and finds personal enjoyment in it. Christ sat at the rich man's +feast. He took the gift of the precious ointment. But for us such things +are unnecessary." + +So the house, now more famous than perhaps any house in London, was a +veritable hermit's cell in its appointments. There, however, the +resemblance ceased entirely. The place hummed with varied activities. It +was the centre of the many organizations that were springing into being +under Joseph's direction; activities made possible by Sir Thomas +Ducaine's magnificent gifts and the stream of outside donations that had +followed in their wake. + +Joseph and his young companion passed through the little crowd of +loiterers and curious people that nearly always stood before the door of +the mysterious house where the Teacher was now known to reside. There +was a stir and movement as he came among them, nudgings of elbows, a +universal pressure forward, whispers and remarks below the voice: +"That's him!" "There's Joseph himself!" + +Joseph passed through the crowd without taking any notice of it. On the +doorstep he paused and turned as if to speak. The people--there may have +been thirty or forty of them--pressed forward in a circle of eager +faces. On the outskirts of the group there was a woman, dressed in black +and past the middle-age. She seemed to hang back, as if reluctant, or +too timid, to approach. + +Joseph's eye fell upon her. Then he took a latchkey from his pocket and +gave it to the young man. + +"Open the door," he said, "and go into the house. Go into the room on +the right-hand side of the hall, and I will meet you there." + +The young man did as he was bidden, and disappeared. + +Then Joseph spoke. + +"Among you all," he said, "there is but one here that needs me. You have +come to see a show, not to seek God and help to lead you to Him. Get you +gone from this place, for there is no health in you!" + +The voice rang out in stern command--a command which it seemed +impossible to disobey. Without a word, the people turned and slunk away, +melting like ghosts into the darkness of the square. + +Only the woman in black remained, and she now came timidly up to the +Teacher. + +"Sir," she said, in a thin but clear and educated voice--"sir, I should +like to speak with you, if I may." + +"My friend," he answered. "I was waiting for you. Come within the +house." + +He led the woman into a small room on the left-hand side of the hall--an +uncarpeted room, with nothing but a few chairs, a big table covered with +papers, and a purring gas-stove upon the hearth. + +At the Teacher's invitation the woman sat down, and revealed a thin, +anxious face and eyes that seemed perpetually trembling upon the brink +of tears. + +"It is very kind of you to see me, sir," she said, "I never expected +that I should have such good fortune. But I have read about you in the +papers--that you go about doing good, just as our dear Lord did, and +something within me moved me to seek you out, even if it were only just +to look at you. For I am very unhappy, sir, and I have no one to confide +in, no one whom I can ask about my trouble or obtain advice from." + +"Tell me all about it," Joseph said gently. "When I stood at the door +and looked at the people I felt in my heart that they were there out of +idle curiosity. God in His wisdom has given me power to know these +things. But something came straight from you to me that made me aware +that you needed me. Tell me everything." + +"It's about my son, sir," the woman said, not noticing the slight start +that Joseph gave and the new light that came into his eyes. "I am a +widow with one son. He is just twenty, and is employed as a clerk in a +City House. But he is going wrong, sir. I can read the signs easily. He +stays out late at night, he seems to be losing his love for me, and is +impatient of anything I say to him. And more than once he has come home +intoxicated lately. And in his room I have found programmes of the +performances at music-halls and such places. + +"I do not pry about, sir, nor am I foolishly severe and hard. Young men +must have their amusements, and they must have their secrets, I suppose. +I do not expect Charlie to tell me everything. And he only earns thirty +shillings a week, part of which he gives to me for his board and +lodging. He cannot possibly afford these amusements. + +"I have a terrible fear that never leaves me that he has not been +honest, that he must have been taking other people's money, and that he +will be ruined. I have prayed and prayed, sir, but it really seems as if +prayer is of no use, though, of course, I keep on." + +"Don't say that," Joseph answered. "Prayer is still the greatest force +in the world, however despondent we may become at times. But your +prayers have been answered. Charlie is saved!" + +The weeping mother gave a sudden cry, half of joy, half of incredulity. + +"But, sir," she stammered, "how can you know that? Oh, if only it could +be true!" + +"It is true, my dear sister," he answered. "The Lord led me to a place +where I found your son, not an hour ago. The Holy Ghost told my mind +that there was a widow's son whom I could save. All you have been +conjecturing is only too true. Charlie has done the things you say. He +has taken money from his employers, but I have given him the sum that he +may return it to them. He is here, in this house now, and I know that +the leaven of repentance is working within him, and that he feels that +he is rescued from both material and spiritual ruin. We are going to +pray together. Come with me, and add your prayers to ours." + +But when they crossed the hall and entered the room opposite, they found +that the young man was already on his knees. + +Day by day some such episode as this occurred. Joseph's power seemed +more and more sure and wonderful. When he had sent away the widow and +her son, tearful and happy, with something in the face of the young man +that had never been there before, the Teacher went up the wide Georgian +stairs to a large room on the first floor. + +No one was there but old David Owen. All the other friends and +companions of Joseph were out upon various efforts of compassion and +salvation; only the old man remained, for he had a cold, and could not +face the night air. A grey, knitted comforter was round his neck, and he +was slowly eating his supper--a bowl of bread-and-milk. Before him, on +the table, was a large Bible, and he was reading eagerly as he ate, +reading with the avidity and concentrated interest that more ordinary +people give to an engrossing romance. + +He looked up as Joseph entered, and smiled at him. + +"It's wonderful, Master!" he said. "It grows more and more wonderful +every time I opens it. I've spent my life reading in the Holy Book, and +I'm an old man now. But ten lives would be all too short!" + +He pointed to the volume with gnarled, wrinkled fingers that trembled +with emotion. + +"Ah! 'Twas a bitter nailing!" he went on. "A bitter, bitter torture He +bore for us. And remember, Joseph, He bore the sins of the whole world, +too. I'm no scholar, and I can't see things like you can. All the time +I'm reading an' yet I know I can only see a little bit of it. But even +that's rending and tearing, Master. It's dreadful what He suffered for +us! I can't understand why every one doesn't love Him. It's easy to +understand folk doing wrong things. The flesh is very strong--man is +full of wickedness. Satan, he goes about tempting the heart, with his +dreadful cunning. But, whatever a man does, and is sorry for afterwards, +I can't understand his not loving Jesus. And so few folk love Jesus in +this wicked town!" + +"The clouds are very dark, David," Joseph answered. "But they will +break. The dawn of the Lord is at hand, and deliverance is sure. But I, +too, at this moment, am full of gloom and sorrow. You know my bad hours, +old friend. One of them is with me now. I fear some calamity, though I +pray against it. But it is coming. Something tells me it is coming. It +is as if I heard slow footsteps drawing nearer and nearer----" + +David looked anxiously at his chief. + +"I doubt but you've been doing something that's taken power from you, +Master," he said. "It has ever been thus with you. Have you not told us +of the night when we went to the theatre-house, the home of the ungodly, +when you walked the streets of Babylon, and were full of doubt, though +you had struck a blow for God that rang through England? And what +happened then? Did you not meet the young man who is great in the eyes +of the world--the young man who has given a fortune for our work--the +young man who has come to Jesus at last?" + +Joseph bowed his head. + +"Yes, David," he replied; "it was even so, blessed be God. But to-night +I feel differently. Then I was trembling upon the verge of doubt. My old +disbelief had appeared again within me. It was as if a serpent slept in +my brain and suddenly raised its head in coiled hate and enmity to the +Light. But now it is not the same. I love and believe. The tortures of +a martyrdom, of which I am not worthy, could not alter that. But I have +a terrible apprehension--a fear of what to-morrow may bring forth. I +cannot explain it; I do not understand it. But nevertheless it is there, +and very real." + +There was a silence in the big room. + +The gas-jets shone upon the walls covered in faded crimson paper, the +long table of deal where the brethren ate their simple meals, the single +picture which hung over the fireplace--a reproduction of Christ knocking +at the door of the human heart, by Holman Hunt. + +There was no sound but that of a falling coal in the glowing fire. + +Then old David spoke. + +"Master," he said, "I think you've no call to be afraid or to fear the +future. It's in God's hands, and there it is. But as far as a poor man +can look into the matter, I think 'tis this way with you. We all know +how blessed you have been. We all know--every one in Britain knows--that +you are a special channel for the operations of the Holy Ghost in our +land. Out of all men you have been mysteriously chosen to hear the +heavenly voices and carry out their warnings. But all men are soul and +body, too. You can't divide one from t'other while men live. Therefore +it's bound to be that if your soul has been working hard on God's +business, it has drained your body of its strength, and so you have +these fearful thoughts. Eat and drink, and get back courage!" + +Joseph smiled. + +"You are right, David, I believe. I will have a bowl of milk-and-bread +also. I must be strong for to-morrow. With God's blessing, it will be a +great day for London. There has never been such a chance of doing good +before. Yes, I must save myself for that!" + +"Is it all arranged, Master?" the old man asked. "Are all the great +people really coming?" + +"Yes, David. And, please God, on the day after to-morrow the kingdom +shall be thrilled. Sir Thomas Ducaine is coming to inspect his own +property in the East End for the first time. Sir Augustus Kirwan is +coming--a powerful and influential man. And the Duke of Dover is coming +also. Then the Bishop of East London, though he knows very well--saint +that he is--will be with us also. Our dear brother Hampson will be of +the party, and also that very valiant soldier of Christ, that new +recruit, Eric Black. Black and Hampson--God bless them!--will give the +result of our pilgrimage to the world. It should wake all London to a +storm of anger and indignation. + +"These things have been discovered and published before, but only in +isolated instances and at fugitive times, and the voice has always been +stifled and obscured. The vested interests have been too strong. But now +there is a real spiritual fervor in London. The Holy Spirit has +descended on the city. There is a quickening on all sides, the air is +full of the Redeemer's name. Therefore, I trust and pray that the +results of our visit to-morrow will be far-reaching. Several other +friends and well-wishers will accompany us in addition to the names of +those I have mentioned." + +"It is a fine thing to get these great people to go," said the old man +simply. "Then how can you be downcast, Joseph? Surely here is yet +another evidence of the favor and protection of God?" + +"I do not know why this assails me," the Teacher answered; "but it does, +and it is there. I cannot help it." + +David Owen shut the Bible on the table in front of him, and rose to his +feet. + +"Dear Master," he said, "the Son of God was also troubled, in the Desert +and in the Garden. But it is well--all is well. All is part of the +beneficent ordering of the Father. There is but one medicine for your +black thoughts, dear Master, and after you've taken it you'll let come +what may." + +"And that is, old friend?" + +"The Lord's Prayer," answered the old gentleman, taking off his horn +spectacles and placing them upon the table. + +And, kneeling down, they said it together. + + * * * * * + +It was the middle of the morning and a dull, leaden day. There was no +fog down in the breathing areas of town, but high above a leaden pall +hung over the City of Dreadful Night, shutting out the clear light of +the sun, livid, sinister and hopeless. + +In the big room of the house in Bloomsbury a dozen people were gathered +together. Sir Augustus Kirwan was talking to The Duke, a thick-set, +clean-shaven man with a strong watchful face. Sir Thomas Ducaine and +Eric Black the journalist stood together. + +Several other notabilities stood in the big, bare room, and there were +also three unobtrusive men with pointed beards, who stood together a +little apart from the others. Detective-inspectors Alpha, Beta and +Gamma, the real satraps and rulers of the lawless districts of +Whitechapel and its environs. + +All the men wore hard felt hats and dark overcoats, peer and policeman +alike. It does not do to venture where these were going in anything but +a very simple and unobtrusive dress. + +Joseph and Hampson were talking earnestly together in one corner of the +room. They were mapping out the terrible itinerary that should be taken, +readjusting and remembering their own sad knowledge of the East, when +they had walked starving down the Commercial Road. + +"And now, my friends," Joseph said at length, in his deep, organ voice, +"I think that all is prepared, and that we may start. Sir Thomas has +some carriages waiting for us below." + +Sir Augustus Kirwan answered the evangelist. + +"My dear fellow," he said--"my dear Joseph, we shall all be delighted to +come as soon as may be. But has it occurred to you that while we have +all, doubtless, breakfasted, none of us have as yet lunched? It is lunch +time now, you know; and though a piece of bread and cheese would do +excellently for me, and no doubt for the rest of us, you can hardly +expect the present company to penetrate into Whitechapel fasting!" + +The Teacher looked at Sir Augustus with a startled face. Then he flushed +slightly. It had never occurred to him that his guests must necessarily +need refreshment. On his own part he had put away material needs as +things of no moment for himself. He was sustained, even in body, by +spiritual food. But he realized now how remiss he had been, and that all +men were not as he was. + +"Sir Augustus," he said, in a voice full of pain and contrition, "I have +been absolutely stupid. It is quite abominable of me not to have thought +of it, but there is, I am dreadfully afraid, no lunch at all!" + +Sir Thomas Ducaine joined in the conversation. + +"My dear Joseph," he said, "don't make yourself unhappy. There is +plenty. Some of my people have brought lunch. Mary and I foresaw this +little _contretemps_, and we made arrangements accordingly. In your +burning eagerness to get us all down to see what you have to show us you +forgot that we are but mortal, and that the body must be nourished if +the eye is to see and the brain observe." + +Joseph's face had cleared, but it wore a somewhat rueful expression. + +"I can't thank you enough," he said, "for thinking of this. It is a +fault in me that I did not do so myself. One is too apt to forget that +we are all body and spirit also. Forgive me!" + +They all fell to at the sandwiches and so forth which two of Sir Thomas +Ducaine's servants brought into the room. + +Only Joseph took nothing at all. He stood by himself, tall, beautiful, +lost in a reverie that no one disturbed. + +He was musing and dreaming still as the carriages took the party to the +East End of London. + +But when Bishopsgate was passed at last, he threw his thoughts from him +with a great effort, and became once more the keen and eager leader of +those people whom he had brought to see the ultimate horror of the +Modern Babylon. + +They sent the carriages away at a certain turning in the Whitechapel +Road. Then they plunged into the dark. + +And how dark that darkness is! Fiction can hardly tell--fiction must not +tell, fearing to infringe upon the bitterness and the agony of the +truth. For we who write of things as they are must always consider our +audience. Ask General Booth, G. R. Sims, or Mr. Holmes, the police-court +missionary, what is the measure of this darkness. Ask the modern martyrs +of our day, of all sects and creeds, who labor in these hell-ridden +places. + +Ask, and you shall hear nothing but the tolling of a great bell, the +deep and awful sound of immedicable misery, the iron pæan of the +blackness of sin, the deep and ringing wail of the mighty bell--the iron +bell--which tolls of hopelessness, and voices the cry of the +downtrodden, the oppressed, the lost! + +The slaves of the Modern Babylon! But with one difference. In the walled +city of wickedness between the two great rivers, hope had not come. They +could not know that our Lord was to be born of a pure Virgin to save +them---- + +Thoughts akin to these were in the minds of all of them as they went in +and out of the foul slums of the East. + +Sir Thomas Ducaine was covered with shame as he saw the horrors all +around--horrors existing upon his own property, long unregarded and +unknown. But the young man was not the only one among them who +registered a mental vow to do all that he could for the wretched beings +they had come amongst. + +Sir Augustus Kirwan, though he had taken the chair at many philanthropic +meetings, and though his name often headed important subscription lists, +had never really been brought in contact, in actual personal contact, +with the great open wound of London. + +The party had come to the mouth of a particularly evil-looking alley. +There is character in brick and stone, and this place--"Wilson's Rents" +by name--had a sinister cut-throat aspect in every line of it. + +"What is in there?" Sir Augustus asked one of the police inspectors. + +"It's a particularly bad street, Sir Augustus," the man answered. "A +sort of great human rabbit-warren or rat's run, as you may say. The +houses nearly all communicate through cellars and subterranean +passages." + +"Shall we go down here?" Sir Augustus asked Joseph. + +"I should not advise it, sir," said the policeman. "The people are so +dirty and degraded and disgusting in their habits that they hardly +resemble human beings at all." + +"Never mind that," Sir Augustus answered. "Now we have come I wish to +see everything, however personally distasteful it may be. I am ashamed +gentlemen, to think that I have shirked so obvious a duty as this for so +long! I am sorry and ashamed of myself!" + +With eyes that were not quite dry the great financier took Joseph by the +arm and marched down the alley, followed by the others. + +They walked cautiously down the place, which seemed strangely deserted. +Sir Augustus was talking eagerly to Joseph, opening his heart in a way +to which he had long been a stranger, when there was a sudden loud +report in the air above them. + +Looking upwards with startled eyes, they saw that a little coil of blue +smoke was floating out of an open window high above them. + +A second afterwards Sir Augustus Kirwan sighed twice and fell forward +upon his face, dead, shot through the heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +WAITING! + + +Mr. Andrew Levison lived in Jermyn Street. His establishment was +comfortable, but modest. A sitting-room, a small dining-room, a bedroom +for himself, and one for his man--these, together with the bath-room, +completed his suite. + +It was a bright morning as he opened his _Daily Wire_ and sat down +before the kedjeree and kidneys that his servant had just brought him +for breakfast. It was rather late; the Jew had been at a theatrical +supper-party the night before until long after midnight. During the +party, at which a great many of the stars of the lighter stage had been +present, the conversation had turned almost entirely upon the marked +slump in theatrical business during Joseph's ministry in London. + +One and all of their company were united in their hatred and alarm of +this evangelist who bade fair to ruin them. + +The whole situation was, moreover, aggravated because of the immense +public support Joseph was receiving from some of the most wealthy and +influential people in society. There was no getting over this fact. And +yet no one had any remedy to suggest. + +Lord Ballina and Mimi Addington had also been of the party, and a keen +observer might possibly have detected a certain furtive look which +passed between the actress, the peer, and the theatrical manager. All +three, however, held their peace, and contributed little or nothing to +the problem of how the situation was to be dealt with. + +And now Mr. Levison, as he sat at table, smiled quietly to himself, +reflecting that he could very considerably astonish many of his +colleagues if it had been possible to do so. + +The sitting-room--for Levison did not breakfast in the dining-room--was +full of sunshine. A great bowl of sulphur-colored hothouse roses stood +on the writing-table. The white panelled walls, hung with rare old +Japanese color prints, caught and reflected the apricot light of the +sun, which poured in through the windows. + +The room was carpeted with a fabric from Persia--the veritable peacock +blue and dark red of Teheran. The armchairs were upholstered in +vermilion leather. Everything harmonized and was in taste, and it was +with complacency that Levison looked round him and picked up the paper. + +Almost the first thing that struck his eye was a paragraph headed +"Movements of Joseph." + +Mr. Levison started, and read with great attention. The paragraph ran as +follows:-- + +"We are able to give our readers exclusive information as to the next +move in the vast campaign for the reformation of London which is being +undertaken by the teacher known as Joseph, in company with his +distinguished colleagues and helpers. One of the most crying evils of +the day is undoubtedly the fact that, while one section of the +population lives in a splendor and luxury perhaps unparalleled in the +history of civilization, another section, and this by far the larger, +lives under conditions of squalor so great that it becomes a horror, +conditions that can only be hinted at in polite society or in the public +prints. The state of the East End of London has long engaged the +attention of philanthropists, but very little has been done to +ameliorate it in comparison with its crying needs. Sociologists have +long since recognized that under present conditions very little can be +done until the rich property owners combine and agree to sacrifice a +portion of their emoluments in order to improve the condition of the +poor. The teacher Joseph has recognized this fact, and is beginning a +movement which may be very far-reaching in its consequences. To-day, we +understand, a party of wealthy and distinguished gentlemen will be taken +by the evangelist to some of the worst parts of the East End there to +see for themselves the true condition of affairs. The remarkable +personality which is at present the talk of London will indeed have +accomplished a greater miracle than any of those strange and unexplained +occurrences attributed to him if he can cleanse and purify one half-mile +of Stepney or Whitechapel. For our part, we wish Joseph and his helpers +every possible success in their endeavors." + +Mr. Levison laid down the paper, and got up from his seat. He walked up +and down the room twice, looked at his breakfast, shook his head, and +then, going to a sideboard, poured some brandy from a tantalus into a +glass, added a little water with a hand that shook slightly, and drank +the mixture off. + +So it was to be to-day, then? Mr. Levison had not realized the imminence +of his plot. It was one thing to reflect complacently that one had +arranged to remove a troublesome intruder from one's path on some +unspecified date; it was, as Levison realized now, quite another thing +to sit down and wait for the event to happen in an hour or two. + +Levison looked at his watch. It was eleven o'clock. He supposed, though +he did not know with any certainty, that the party to the East End would +hardly start before midday. + +"They can't leave much before twelve, I should think, from wherever they +meet," he muttered to himself. "Give them an hour to get down to the +East End, another hour or more, perhaps, for the people"--another and +far less pleasing word almost escaped Mr. Levison's lips--"for the +people I have employed to do what has to be done. Roughly, I suppose +there ought to be some news in the paper between four and five." + +The man's face had grown quite white, and his hands began to tremble +more and more. No one had ever seen the self-possessed, genial-mannered +_entrepreneur_ like this. And when he stopped in front of the glass +which hung over the mantel-shelf, he started at the sight of his own +guilty and terrified countenance. + +Supposing that something should go wrong! Supposing the man was caught, +and confessed! A thousand horrid apprehensions began to crowd into his +mind, and the sweat came out cold and damp upon his forehead. + +There were hours to wait. How should he employ them? The theatre was +closed; there was no particular business claiming his attention at the +moment. And he felt less and less inclined to sit alone in his chambers +waiting. Exercise, he came to the conclusion, a long, brisk walk, was +the only thing that could restore his mental tone. + +He rang for his coat and hat, took a stick from the stand in the hall, +and went out into Jermyn Street. For a moment he was undecided as to his +direction. The thought of the Park crossed his mind, but it was +superseded by another and more welcome one. He would walk up to St. +John's Wood--that was a good distance--and he would call on Mimi +Addington, and tell her the news that he had read in the paper. He +smiled maliciously at the idea. Perhaps Lord Ballina might be there, +too; if so, well and good. His fellow conspirators should share his +uneasiness. They were in the thing as much as he was, and he saw no +reason why he should be the only one to suffer. The idea appealed to his +Oriental imagination, and in picturing to himself the probable fears of +his companions when they knew that this was the actual day on which the +assassination was to be attempted, Levison forgot his own, and it was +quite with a jaunty step that he turned into St. James' Street. + +Even at the moment when he had realized that the dark deed which he had +instigated was to be attempted on that very day, Levison had felt not +the slightest remorse or compunction. Fear he had felt, the fear of +discovery, but that was all. A criminal is nothing more or less than a +supreme egotist. Levison saw everything in its relation to himself, and +himself alone; never in relation to other people, or to God. Joseph was +ruining his business, therefore he had plotted Joseph's death. He had no +bitter feeling against Joseph whatever, even though the Teacher's advent +and appearance in the theatre had done him such serious harm. Levison +was a philosophic scoundrel, and took things as they came, and wasted no +brain power or mental force in the exercise of personal dislikes. + +He arrived at Mimi Addington's house in St. John's Wood a little before +two, not having hurried at all. The actress was at home, and he was at +once shown into the drawing-room, where she was sitting with Lord +Ballina and a friend of his, who was introduced to Levison as Mr. Errol +Smith. Fortunately for Levison's plans, Lord Ballina's friend was on the +point of departure, and shortly went away, leaving the three +conspirators together. + +"Well, Andrew, how goes it?" Ballina said, with his vacuous dissipated +little simper. "When are you going to open the theatre again?" + +"Well, that depends," Levison answered, with a meaning look. "You know +very well what that depends on!" + +He was watching the effect of his words upon Mimi Addington as he spoke, +and saw the hard, cruel eyes glisten with hate at his reference, and the +beautifully shaped mouth harden into a thin line of crimson. + +"It's some time now since we had that little talk, Andrew," the woman +said, in a voice that she strove to keep well under control, though +every now and then the hysteria of her hate crept into it and suggested +that which lay, lava-hot, deep down in her heart. + +"Well, d'you know, my dear," Levison said, taking out a cigar and +lighting it with great deliberation--"well, d'you know that it's the +little matter that we discussed that I've come up about this afternoon." + +"How much longer is that Joseph to be allowed to cumber London?" she +said, with a hissing intake of the breath. + +"Well, that all depends," Levison answered, amused with the skill with +which he could play upon her passion. The Jew loved power and the +exercise of it. He gratified himself now by playing on her as if she +were an instrument and noticing how swiftly she responded to his touch. + +"Oh, hang it all, Andrew," Lord Ballina said, "don't tease Mimi. If +you've got any news about this business let's have it." + +Levison thought he had gone far enough, and took the _Daily Wire_ which +he had brought with him from his pocket. + +"Read that," he said, handing it to the young peer. + +Ballina read out the paragraph in a monotonous sing-song, with now and +then such observations as suggested themselves to his limited and +vicious intelligence. + +"Well," he said, "for the matter of that, Andrew, the papers are full of +the fellow every day, and his goings on. I don't see what news there is +in that, it's only just another of his games. Was that all you came up +to tell us?" + +Levison saw the look of scorn that Mimi Addington flashed at the young +man. Her own intelligence was infinitely keener; and though Levison had +not gone into any details about the arrangements he had made, she saw +the significance of the fact in the newspaper immediately. + +"What a duffer you are, Bally," she said contemptuously. "Why, it's +perfectly clear of course. What better place could you have for knocking +a Johnny on the head than an East End slum? That's what Andrew means, +and that's what he's come to tell us, isn't it, Andrew?" + +"Your brilliant intellect, assisted by your personal dislike, has at +once divined the truth, Mimi," said Levison, leaning back upon the divan +and blowing a blue cloud of smoke up towards the hanging Moorish lamp. + +"Why, then," Lord Ballina broke in suddenly--"why, then, it's this +afternoon!" His voice had grown high and thin with excitement, and +Levison saw once more a face from which all the color had ebbed, and +hands that twitched with sudden realization. + +Mimi Addington suddenly rose up from her seat with a curiously sinuous +and panther-like movement. + +"This afternoon!" she said. "Then I shall sleep happy this night!" + +"Oh, come, Mimi," Lord Ballina said, "you needn't go quite so far as +that. As a matter of fact, I--er--confound it, I wish we'd let the chap +alone!" + +The woman had sunk back upon the divan. She stretched out one slender, +white hand, covered with flashing rings, and patted Levison upon the +arm. + +He shuddered at her touch, scoundrel as he was, but she did not see it. + +Ballina was walking up and down the room, his feet making no sound upon +the thick pile of the carpet. He snapped his fingers in an odd, +convulsive fashion. + +"I say, you know," he said at length, "I really don't like it. I wish to +Heaven I'd never been mixed up in the affair. Supposing anything gets +out?" + +"Well, that's supposing me to be rather a bigger fool than I am," +Levison answered, though the fear of the other had in some subtle way +affected him, and all his own tremors of the morning were beginning to +revive. + +Then there was silence in the room for a time. + +Although the morning had been bright and cheerful, the sun had become +obscured shortly after midday, and a heavy gloom of fog above which +thunder had muttered now and then had spread itself high up in the sky. + +The oppression in the air had become much more marked during the last +hour, and now, as the three people sat together, they were all +experiencing it to the full. + +For a long time nobody spoke at all, and when at length Mimi Addington +made some casual observation, both the men started involuntarily. The +woman's voice also was changed now. It was like the voices of her +companions, loaded with sinister apprehension. + +"When do you suppose," Lord Ballina said, in a shaking voice--"when do +you suppose that we shall know if anything has happened, Andrew? Have +you made arrangements with your--er--er--friends to report to you about +it?" + +"I'm not mad!" Levison answered shortly. "Hear! Why, if there's anything +to hear you'll hear soon enough----What's that?" + +He had started violently, and the perspiration was beginning to run down +his face. A distant rumble of thunder breaking suddenly in upon the +quiet of the room had startled him and betrayed more than anything else +in what a state his nerves were. + +"It's only thunder," Mimi replied. "Good Heavens, Andrew, you are enough +to give one the jumps yourself! But if we're to know, how shall we +know?" + +"Why, it's very simple," Levison answered. "Don't you see that if +anything has--er--happened, it'll be in the evening papers and in the +streets within three-quarters of an hour from the time it's occurred. +There will be journalists with this man Joseph, of course, there always +are wherever he goes. Well, the papers will be up here by the motors in +half-an-hour after they're issued, and we shall hear the newsboys +shouting it out all over the place." + +"There's an old man who sells papers at the corner of Florence Street, +only a few yards away," Mimi Addington broke in quickly. "The boys on +the bicycles come up and supply him with all the new editions as they +come out. I often hear them shouting." + +"Then all we've got to do," said Andrew Levison, "is to wait until we +hear that shouting." + +They sat waiting--three murderers--and as they sat there a presence +stole into the room, unseen, but very real. The grisly phantom Fear was +among them. Waiting! + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE HOUSE DESOLATE + + +The echo of the shot which had struck down Sir Augustus Kirwan had +hardly died away when two of the police inspectors, accompanied by Eric +Black, rushed into one of the open doorways of the court. Their feet +could be heard thundering up the rickety, wooden stairs of the old +house, as Joseph and Sir Thomas Ducaine knelt, horror-struck, by the +side of the dead man, while the others crowded round in uncontrollable +dismay. + +Joseph himself seemed absolutely stunned for a moment. And it was Sir +Thomas's firm and capable hands which were moving rapidly over Sir +Augustus' chest, endeavoring to test the movement of the heart. + +The young Duke of Dover was talking rapidly and in an undertone with the +police inspector, and pointing upwards to the black, unglazed +window-hole from which the smoke of the shot was still eddying out. + +The whole series of events had occurred in a mere flash of time, with an +astonishing swiftness which seemed to outstrip or to numb the lightning +operations of thought itself. + +There they stood in a group, stiffened and frozen into momentary +immobility. The tall figure of Joseph bent over the empty shell which +lay upon the ground; the others clustered round, with wan faces of +horror. The peer had his right hand upon the shoulder of the inspector +and his left extended to the black and silent orifice above. And still +the thunder of the feet of Eric Black and his companions could be heard +as they raced upwards towards the room of the assassin. + +Then suddenly, as if the noise of the shot, which now must have been +fired for at least thirty-five or forty seconds, had awakened a sleeping +population, a murmur arose like the murmur of a hive of bees suddenly +disturbed. + +It arose, grew louder and louder, resolved itself into tumultuous and +divided voices, and then, from every doorway, the foul, mocking, and +unclean denizens of the worst slum in London came pouring, trotting, and +slouching out of their lairs. + +The air was immediately filled with a horrid clamor, and to the keen, +attentive ears of, at any rate, the Duke and the policeman, there seemed +something ungenuine in the sound--that is to say, it was not the +instinctive product of real surprise, but as though the people who had +suddenly appeared out of what had seemed silence and desolation were +well aware that this was going to happen. + +Of this Joseph and Sir Thomas Ducaine, who were lifting the portly body +of the great financier, saw and understood nothing at all. + +Just as Joseph and Sir Thomas, assisted by the others, were supporting +the limp figure in their arms, the remaining inspector lifted his +whistle to his lips and blew a loud and piercing call. + +At the sound, the horrid crowd which surrounded the little group of +death suddenly grew silent. They knew that ominous summons very well; it +was in their blood to know it, for to many of them it had been a note of +doom. + +The silence continued for a very short time, and was only broken in one +significant and instinctive way. + +A tall, thin man, with a face which was a sheer wedge of sin and bestial +impulse, suddenly pressed to the front of the crowd, where his eyes fell +upon Joseph. + +The inspector heard him say, in a quick, vibrating voice to some one at +his side whom the inspector could not see-- + +"The wrong bloke!" + +The whistle had its effect, and in a space of time which would have +suggested to any one who had thought of it that the police arrangements +for guarding the distinguished company which had ventured into these +dark places were more complete than that company itself had any idea of, +several uniformed constables came hurrying into the court. + +The crowd of slum-dwellers melted away as a small piece of ice in the +sun, and, save that the doors and low windows of the surrounding houses +were now thronged with interested faces, the group in the middle of the +place was free of interruption. + +Three stalwart constables lifted up the body and bore it away. Joseph +and the rest of his friends filed in a horror-struck procession. + +The Teacher's head was bowed. His thin, white hands were clasped in +front of him, and the tears were rolling down his cheeks. + +Hampson was at his side, and as he looked up at his old comrade once +more he was thrilled to the very marrow, even as he had been thrilled on +that strange eventful afternoon when the two great beams of wood had +fallen from on high and struck down Joseph Bethune in the form of a +cross. + +For what Hampson now saw in his quick, imaginative brain, accustomed as +it was to constant artistic images of the past, when Jesus walked in +Jerusalem, was now the tall, bowed figure of the Saviour with wrists +bound in front of Him, moving towards the shameful death which was to +save and regenerate mankind. + +Another scene in the Via Dolorosa! + +It was now the middle of the afternoon. With magic celerity, even in +that poverty-stricken district, carriages were found, and an ambulance +brought from an adjacent police-station. + +Then, through the crowded streets of the East, the long and busy +thoroughfares of Fleet Street and the Strand, into the wide and spacious +district where the rich dwell, the sad procession took its way. + +And of all the crowds of busy humans that moved and ran about their +business, no one suspected what these vehicles might mean. They passed +through the busiest centres of the Modern Babylon without an indication +or word of the true import of their passage. + +Only Eric Black, who had come back disheartened with the two +police-officers from a hurried yet interminable search among the huge +and fetid warrens of the murder-hole, was speeding towards the office of +the _Evening Wire_--the afternoon edition of the great daily--his heart +full of pity and terror, while yet his keen journalistic brain was +weaving burning words and sentences with which to announce what had +happened to London. + +The _cortège_ arrived at last at the great house in Berkeley Square. + +The day, which had begun brightly enough, was as if the elements in +London were sympathetic to the tragedy in which one of her foremost +citizens had perished. They were now beginning to throw a heavy and +thunderous gloom over the City. + +Swiftly, while the frightened and white-faced servants stood speechless +in the hall, the body of Sir Augustus Kirwan was borne into the library, +and the family physician sent for at once. One of the police inspectors +remained in the house; the other hurried off to Scotland Yard to give +his version of the affair, though by now all the district in which the +murder had occurred was being thoroughly searched, and guarded on all +sides by special police, who had been summoned by telephone from various +parts of the metropolis. + +Marjorie Kirwan was away upon a short visit to some friends. Lady Kirwan +was, fortunately, out when the body of her husband was brought into the +house. + +In a very few minutes the doctor arrived, and after a brief +examination, announced what all present knew only too well--that the +baronet had been shot through the heart, and that the death had been +painless and instantaneous. + +The blinds in front of the house were all pulled down, and the butler +was interrogated as to the whereabouts of Lady Kirwan by The Duke and +Sir Thomas Ducaine. + +"I'm sure I have no idea, my lord and Sir Thomas," said the faithful old +fellow, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, "where my lady has gone. +I know that she went out shortly after lunch, on foot. She said that she +did not wish for the motor-brougham or a carriage. Sometimes of an +afternoon my lady likes to go out on foot, for the sake of a little +exercise; and the day being fine, it must have tempted her." + +"Her maid will know, perhaps," Sir Thomas replied. + +"I'm afraid not, sir," the butler answered, "for I know that Mrs. +Summers has my lady's permission to visit her relatives at Camberwell +this afternoon." + +"Then," Sir Thomas replied, "where is Miss Lys?" + +"I can answer that," Joseph replied sadly. "She is working up in +Bloomsbury, at the house of the Brotherhood." + +"She must be sent for at once," Sir Thomas answered. "Indeed, in a few +minutes, I will go for Mary myself, and break this terrible news to her. +It will be a frightful blow to my poor girl; but she is so strong and +self-reliant that she will be invaluable to receive Lady Kirwan when +she returns, and to break this awful news, as only a woman, and such a +woman as Mary is, could possibly do." + +For a moment the young man's face lit up with love and tenderness, even +in the presence of death, as he thought of the sweet and noble lady who +had already given some of the best years of her life to the healing of +sorrow, and who alone, in this great crisis, cost her what it might, +could be depended upon to help the widow through the dark hours that lay +before. + +Now it happened that Lady Kirwan had indeed not gone very far. A few +streets away from Berkeley Square there was a quiet little shop which +was kept by a society of ladies who had interested themselves in the +revival of fine lace manufacture in England. Girls were being taught all +over the country to produce gossamer fabrics as beautiful as anything +made in the hamlets around Ghent and Brussels or in the Beguinage at +Bruges. Lady Kirwan was a patroness of the movement, and on this +afternoon she had walked round to discuss the question of profit-sharing +with the lady who was in charge of the establishment. + +Lady Kirwan liked to carry her own latchkey when she went out on little +excursions of this sort, when there was no groom to run up the steps and +open the front door. She had taken her key with her on this afternoon, +and after doing the business for which she had set out, returned +homewards in a peculiarly happy state of mind, which even the heavy +atmosphere and lowering approach of thunder failed to disturb. + +The lace business was going well, and the poor girls all over the +country would have a substantial bonus added to their earnings. And +other more important things contributed to the kindly woman's sense of +goodwill. Mary's engagement to Sir Thomas Ducaine was in itself a cause +for immense congratulation. Despite all Mary's stupid ways--as Lady +Kirwan was accustomed to call them--in spite of all the wasted years in +the hospital, the girl had, nevertheless, captured one of the most +eligible young men in London, and her wedding would be one of the +greatest events in the modern history of the family of Lys. Marjorie +also seemed to be more than a little attracted by the young Duke of +Dover. He was a peer of very ancient lineage, upright, an honorable +gentleman, and very well liked in society. That he was not rich made no +difference whatever. The Kirwans' own enormous wealth would be lavished +at the disposal of the young couple. And, finally, at a great political +reception a few nights ago, the Prime Minister had taken Lady Kirwan +into supper, and had told her, without any possibility of mistake, that +in a week or two more the great services of Sir Augustus to the +Government, and the financial weight exerted at a critical moment, which +had forced a foreign Power to modify its demands, were to receive high +recognition, and that the baronetcy was to be exchanged for the rank of +viscount. + +As Lady Kirwan, smiling and stately, ascended the steps of her house in +Berkeley Square, and took from her reticule the tiny Bramah key which +unlocked the massive portal, she felt she had not a care in the world, +and was a woman blessed indeed. + +"We must get rid of this Joseph fellow now," she thought, as she +inserted the key. "He has played his part well enough in bringing Mary +and Thomas together; but I don't think it will be advisable, even though +he is a fashionable pet at present, to have very much to do with him. I +never cared very much for the man, and it is awkward to have him about +the house. One can always send him a cheque now and then for his good +works!" + +The door swung open, and she entered the hall. At the moment there was +nobody there--a fact which she noted for a future word of remonstrance, +as a footman was always supposed to sit there at all times. But from the +farther end of the hall, from the library, the door of which was a +little ajar, her quick ear detected a murmur of voices in the silence. + +She took a step or two forward, when suddenly Sir Thomas Ducaine came +striding quickly and softly out of the library, the door closing quietly +behind him. + +"Ah, Tom, my dear boy!" Lady Kirwan said. "So you are all back, then? I +do hope you're not fatigued by those terrible places that you've all +been to see. Horrible it must have been? Don't forget that you are +dining with us to-night. Mary has promised to leave her nonsense up at +Bloomsbury and be home in time, so we shall have a pleasant family +dinner. Where is Augustus? Is he in the library?" + +Then Lady Kirwan noticed something strange in the young man's face. The +color had all ebbed from it; it was white with a horrid, ghastly +whiteness, that absolutely colorless white one sees on the under side of +a turbot or a sole. + +"Good gracious!" she said, with slightly faltering voice. "Are you ill, +Tom? Why, what is the matter? Has anything happened?" + +The young man's brain was whirling. Lady Kirwan's sudden and unexpected +appearance had driven all his plans and self-control to the winds. He +shook with fear and agitation. He tried to speak twice, but the words +rattled in his mouth with a hollow sound. + +The current of fear ran from him to the tall and gracious dame who stood +before him, and flashed backwards and forwards between the two like a +shuttle--in the loom of Fate. + +"What is it?" she said, in a high-pitched voice. "Tell me at once!" + +As she spoke the hall suddenly became filled with silent +servants--servants whose faces were covered with tears, and who stood +trembling around the vast, luxurious place. + +The dame's eyes swept round in one swift survey. Then, suddenly, she +drew herself to her full height. + +"Where is Augustus?" she said in a low, vibrating voice that thrilled +the heart of every person there with pain. "Where is my husband?" + +"Sir Augustus, my dear Lady Kirwan," Sir Thomas began to gasp, with +tears running down his cheeks--"Sir Augustus is very ill; but----" + +He got no further, Lady Kirwan began to move quickly, as if some dread +instinct had told her the truth, towards the library door. + +"No, no, dear Lady Kirwan," Sir Thomas said--"don't go!" + +She brushed him aside as if he had been a straw in her path, and the +terrified group of people saw her burst upon the great white-painted +door which led to the chamber of death. + +There was a silence, an agonized silence of several seconds, and then +what all expected and waited for came. + +A terrible cry of anguish pealed out into the house, a cry so wild and +despairing that the very walls seemed to shudder in fearful sympathy. + +A cry, repeated thrice, and then a choking gurgle, which in its turn +gave way to a deep contralto voice of menace. + +Inside the library Lady Kirwan reeled by the long table upon which the +still form of the man she loved lay hushed for ever in death. One arm +was thrown around the rigid, waxen face, the left was outstretched with +accusing finger, and pointing at Joseph the evangelist. + +"It is you!" the terrible voice pealed out. "It is you, false prophet, +liar, murderer, who have brought a good man to his end! It was you who +killed my dear, dear nephew Lluellyn upon the hills of our race! It is +you--who have come into a happy household with lying wiles and sneers +and signs and tokens of your master Satan, whom you serve--who have +murdered my beloved! May the curse of God rest upon you! May you wither +and die and go to your own place and your own master--you, who have +killed my dear one!" + +Then there was a momentary silence, once more the high despairing wail +of a mind distraught, a low, shuddering sigh, and a heavy thud, as Lady +Kirwan fell upon the floor in a deep and merciful swoon. + +As Sir Thomas, who had hitherto stood motionless in the middle of the +hall, turned and went swiftly back into the library, the Teacher came +out with bowed head, and passed silently to the front door. No one +assisted him as he opened it and disappeared. + +How he arrived at the old house in Bloomsbury, Joseph never knew. +Whether on foot, or whether in some vehicle, he was unable to say, on +thinking over the events afterwards. Nor did any one see him enter the +house. The mystery was never solved. + +With bowed head, he mounted the stairs towards the long common-room +where his friends and disciples were wont to gather together. + +Opening the door, he entered. By a dying fire, with a white, strained +face, stood Hampson, who had only accompanied the funeral carriage up to +a certain point in its progress towards Berkeley Square, and, urged by +some inexplicable impulse, had descended from his carriage during a +block in the traffic, and made straight for the headquarters of the +Brotherhood. + +As Joseph entered, the little journalist gave a great sigh of relief. +"At last," he said--"at last!" + +"My friend, and my more than brother," the Teacher answered, in a voice +broken with emotion, "where is our dear sister--where is Mary?" + +"The Lord came to Mary," Hampson answered in a deep and awe-stricken +voice, "and she has obeyed His command. I came here, knowing that the +brethren were all out upon their business, save only our dear Mary, who +was waiting for two poor women who were to come and be relieved. As I +entered the square I saw the women coming away with glad, bright +faces--they were women I had known in the past, and whom I myself had +recommended to Mary. I entered the house, and I found our sister in the +room upon the right-hand side of the hall. I was about to greet her, and +hoped to be able to break the terrible news to her, when I saw that her +face was raised, her eyes were closed, her hands were clasped before +her, as if in prayer. She seemed to be listening, and I waited. Suddenly +her eyes opened, her hands fell, and she came back to the world, seeing +me standing before her." + +"Brother," she said, and her face was like the face of an angel, +"brother, there is one who needs me, needs my help and comfort in the +hour of tribulation and sorrow. God has sent a message to me, and I go +to her." + +"With that she left the room and went swiftly away." + +"Without doubt," Joseph answered, "God has summoned her to bring +consolation to the widow." + +Hampson began a series of eager inquiries as to what had occurred in +Berkeley Square, as to what would happen, and what action would be +taken--a string of excited questions running one into the other, which +showed how terribly the good fellow was unstrung. + +The Teacher checked the rapid flow of words with a single gesture. + +"Brother," he said, "do you stay here and rest, and say no word to any +man of what has happened. For me, there yet remains something to be +done. I know not what; but this I do know--once more the message of the +Holy Spirit is about to come to me, and I am to receive directions from +on High." + +Hampson watched the Teacher as he slowly left the room. At the door +Joseph turned and smiled faintly at his old and valued friend; and as he +did so, the journalist saw, with the old inexpressible thrill that light +upon the countenance which only came at the supreme moments when +Heavenly direction was vouchsafed to Joseph. + + * * * * * + +Upon her wrist Mimi Addington wore a little jewelled watch set in a thin +bracelet of aluminium studded with rubies. + +She lifted her wrist almost to her eyes to mark the time. It was as +though the power of eyesight was obscured. + +Lord Ballina was walking, almost trotting, rapidly up and down the +room--one has seen a captive wolf thus in its cage. + +Andrew Levison sat upon the couch, his head supported upon his hands, +one foot stretched a little in front of him, and the boot tapping with +ceaseless, regular movement upon the heavy Persian rug. + +"William is waiting at the garden gate to bring in the paper directly it +arrives," Mimi Addington said. + +No one answered her. Lord Ballina went up and down the room. Andrew +Levison's foot, in its polished boot, went tap, tap, tap, as if it were +part of a machine. + +Then they heard it--the hoarse, raucous cry--"Evenin' Special! Slum +Tragedy! 'Orrid Murder!" The words penetrated with a singular +distinctness into the tent-like Eastern room, with all its warmth and +perfume. + +Three sharp cries of relief and excitement were simultaneously uttered +as the three people stood up in a horrid _tableau vivant_ of fear and +expectation. + +Ten, twenty, thirty, forty seconds. "Oh, why does he not come?" And then +the door opens quietly, and a discreet manservant brings in a folded +pink paper upon a silver tray. + +Mimi tears it open as the man withdraws, with a low and almost animal +snarl of triumph. Her eyes blaze out like emeralds. The beautiful red +lips are parted; hot breath pants out between them. Then she turns +suddenly white as linen. The paper falls from her hands, the life fades +from her face and eyes, the strength of movement from her limbs, and she +giggles feebly, as one bereft of reason. + +Lord Ballina snatches up the paper, scans it with rapid eyes, and then +turns to Levison. + +"They have killed the wrong man!" he says, with a terrible oath. +"They've murdered Sir Augustus Kirwan, and Joseph has gone free!" + +Levison staggered towards him, leant on him, and read the shocking news +for himself. + +Lord Ballina began to weep noisily, like a frightened girl. + +"It's all up with us," he said; "it's all up with us! This is the end of +all of it, the hand of God is in it; we're done--lost, lost! There is no +forgiveness!" + +Even as he said this the hangings which covered the noiseless outside +door were parted suddenly. Joseph himself stood there with one hand +raised above his head, and said unto them-- + +"Peace be unto you all in this household! Peace be unto you!" + +The words, spoken in the Teacher's deep and musical voice, rang out in +the tented room like a trumpet. + +The three conspirators were struck by them as if by some terrible +crushing physical force. + +With dilated eyes and faces, which were scarcely human in their terror, +they crouched before the terrible apparition. + +In that moment all remembrance of what they had just learnt from the +newspaper was blotted from their minds; they only thought that here was +one veritably risen from the dead, or come in spirit to denounce them. + +The woman was the first to succumb. With a low, whimpering moan she +fell in a tumbled heap upon the floor. Neither the Jew nor the younger +man moved a finger to help her. They crouched trembling against the +opposite wall, and stared at the tall figure of the man they had tried +to murder. + +Joseph stood looking upon them. His face was no index whatever to his +thoughts. In whatever spirit he had come they could define nothing of it +from his face, though the words which he had uttered as he appeared from +behind the hangings rang in their ears with a deep and ironical mockery +as if the bell of doom was tolling for them. + +Once more Joseph raised his hands. + +"Peace be unto you," he said again, as if blessing them. And then he +asked very gravely and calmly: "Why are you afraid of me?" + +Again there was silence, until at last Levison, the Jew, with a +tremendous and heroic effort of self-control, pulled himself a little +together and essayed to speak. + +"Do not prolong this scene, sir," he said, in a cracked, dry voice, +which seemed to come from a vast distance. "Have your men in at once and +take us away. It will be better so. You have won the game, and we must +pay the penalty. I suppose you have captured the men who made the +attempt upon your life, and"--here Levison remembered, with an added +throb of horror, how another had suffered in place of his intended +victim--"and who, unfortunately, killed another person in mistake for +you. So be it. We are ready to go." + +The sound of the Jew's voice speaking thus, and calm with all the +hideous calmness of defeat and utter despair, had roused Lord Ballina's +sinking consciousness. As Levison concluded, the young man fell upon his +knees and almost crawled to the feet of the Master. + +"It's all lies," he gasped--"it's all lies, sir! I don't know what he is +talking about, with his murders and things. I know nothing whatever +about it all. I wasn't in it. I assure you I'd nothing whatever to do +with it. It was he who did it all." + +The livid young wretch extended a shaking hand of cowardly accusation, +and pointed it at his whilom friend. + +Joseph looked down to the creature at his feet with a blazing scorn in +his eyes, and as he did so the Jew, who was still leaning upon the +opposite wall, as if too physically weak to move, broke in upon the end +of Lord Ballina's quavering exculpation. + +"It's quite true, sir," he said to Joseph, though even in the hour of +his own agony the man's bitter contempt for the coward crept into his +voice and chilled it. "It is perfectly true, this young--er--gentleman, +Lord Ballina, knew nothing of the matters of which you speak. Nor can he +be connected with them in any way." + +"Friend," said Joseph, very calmly, lifting his eyes from the thing that +crouched upon the floor below him--"friend, of what matters have I +spoken?" + +Levison looked steadily at him. A puzzled expression crossed his +terror-stricken face for a moment, and then left it as before. + +"Why quibble about words," he said, "at such a time as this? I beg you, +sir, to call in your detectives, and have me taken away at once. I, and +I only, am responsible for the attempt upon your life." + +Here there came a sudden and even more dramatic interruption than +before. From the heap of shimmering draperies upon the floor by the +couch, which covered the swooning body of the actress, a head suddenly +protruded. It was like the head of a serpent coming slowly into view, +with flashing eyes of enmity and hate. + +Mimi Addington rose with a slow and sinuous movement, a movement which, +if she could have reproduced it in ordinary life, and showed it upon the +stage, would, perhaps, have lifted her to the rank of the greatest +tragedy actress of this or any other era. + +The movement was irresistible, like the slow, gliding erection of a +serpent. The head oscillated a little in front of the body, with a +curiously reptilian movement. The eyes were fixed in their steady and +unflinching glare of hate. + +Levison stared, trembling, at the sudden and hideous apparition. All the +beauty had faded from the face. It was as the face of one lost and +doomed, the face of some malignant spirit from the very depths of +despair. + +Then a hollow, hissing voice filled the place. + +"They are both wrong," said the voice; "they are both wrong. It was I +who did this thing. I myself and no other. Whatever you may be, man or +spirit, I care not. It was I who set the men on to kill you, and the +death that you were to die was all too easy for you. I hate you with a +hatred for which there are no words. I would that I could inflict upon +you a death lasting many days of torture, and do it with my hands. And +then I would dance upon your grave. I hate you as woman never hated man +before. Before all the world you spurned me and showed me as I am. You +made me a laughing-stock to London, and a shame in the eyes of all men." + +Her lifted hand was extended towards the Teacher. + +Spellbound, unable to move or think, Levison saw that the silken feet, +from which the little bronze shoes had fallen, were gradually and +imperceptibly moving with the apparent immobility of the trained dancer +towards the tall figure by the door. + +The awful voice went on, and into it, even in that moment of horrid +tragedy which at the beginning had given it some dignity, a note of +indescribable coarseness and vulgarity began to creep. + +And all the time the Jew saw the little feet, in their stockings of pale +blue silk, were moving nearer and nearer. Then, suddenly, she leapt at +Joseph with a swift bound, like the bound of a panther, and without a +single sound. + +She struck once, twice, thrice; but as the Jew watched he saw with an +awe and wonder more heart-stirring, more terrible than even the first +agony of terror, that she struck at least a foot away from the figure of +the Teacher--that is to say, her blows did not reach within more than a +foot of the grave, bearded man who stood regarding her. It was as though +Joseph was surrounded by some invisible aura, some unseen protection, +which rendered him invulnerable to all material attack. At the third +stroke the woman's arm fell to her side. She looked in a puzzled, +childlike way at the figure before her. The hate seemed to have suddenly +been wiped from her face, as a sponge wipes a chalk mark from a slate. +The light in her eyes was extinguished, they became dull and glassy; and +in a feeble, childlike fashion she brushed past the Teacher, now +unimpeded by any obstacle, and passed through the draperies into the +corridor beyond. They heard her laughing, in a mad and meaningless +merriment--the laughter of one whose brain is finally dissolved and +gone, and who will never more take part in the strife and councils of +men and women. + +The laughter grew quieter as the mad woman wandered away down the +corridor. + +Joseph stooped down to where Lord Ballina still crouched upon the floor. +He placed both hands beneath the young man's arms and lifted him to his +feet. He held him in front of him for a moment or two, and looked +steadily into his eyes. Then, bending forward, he kissed him on the +forehead. + +"Brother," he said, "go, and sin no more." + +The Jew heard the uncertain footsteps of the young viscount as he also +left the tented room--heard them tap, tap as they crossed those spaces +of the tiled floor of the hall which were not covered with rugs, and +then a moment afterwards the clang of the hall door. + +Joseph and Andrew Levison were left alone. + +The Jew exercised his self-control in a still greater measure than +before. + +"And now, sir," he said, "since those two others have gone, and you have +before you the real criminal, do with me as you will. I should like to +ask you one thing, however, and that is this: I should like it to be +thoroughly understood at the trial that I, and I only, am responsible +for what has occurred. I am the murderer of Sir Augustus Kirwan, and +should have been your murderer far more really and truly than the +assassin whom I bribed to actually commit the deed. I was the +controlling brain and the instigator of the whole thing. Therefore I +hope that, guilty as my instrument may be, it will be recognized by +everybody concerned that he is not guilty to such an extent as I am +guilty. It would be an additional misery to me, though I don't put it +only on those grounds, if my creature also were to suffer the extreme +penalty of the law. And now I am quite ready." + +Joseph turned, as Levison thought, to summon the police officers whom he +supposed had accompanied him. + +Instead of doing that, Joseph closed the door and pulled the hangings +over it. + +"Why did you seek to murder me?" he asked, in calm and gentle tones. + +Levison began to tremble. + +"It will seem incredible to you, sir," he said, in a low voice, "but you +stood in my way. You were destroying my business as a theatrical +manager, and you had very greatly angered my leading lady, the woman who +tried to kill you again just now." + +Then, suddenly, the whirling brain of the theatrical manager remembered +the significance of what he had seen when Mimi Addington had dashed at +the Teacher with hate and murder in her eye. + +"Who are you!" he said, terror mastering him once more. "Who are you +that Mimi could not reach you? Who are you? And how, now I come to think +of it, how could you be here so soon? What can it all mean? Who are +you?" + +"Like you," the Teacher answered, "I am a son of God. For me as for you, +Christ Jesus died upon the Cross. You ask me questions, I will answer +them. There is no reason why I should not answer them. When I came to +this house I had no idea whom I should see, save only that here I should +find those who had plotted against my life. I was brought here by a +Power stronger than any human power. I was brought here by the hand of +God Who--blessed be His name!--orders my way and directs my path. And as +for your accomplice, the poor man who would have struck me down, and who +has slain one of the great ones of this earth, and one who might have +been a witness to the truth of God and the love of mankind, I know that +he will not be found. He has not been discovered, nor will he ever be by +human agency. He will pay the penalty for what he has done, as all must +pay the penalty for evil deeds, in sorrow and remorse. It may be that he +will not repent, and will not be forgiven. Of that I cannot speak, +because no knowledge has been vouchsafed to me. It may be, and I pray to +the Holy Trinity that it shall be so--that he will repent and be +forgiven, because he knew not what he did." + +"But you know, sir," Levison answered--"you know who has been behind it +all. Take me swiftly, and do what has to be done. I beg and implore you +to delay no longer. I can make no defence, nor shall I try to do so. Who +you are, and what power is given to you, I don't know, nor can I +understand. But this one thing I know--that I am guilty, and am prepared +to pay the penalty for what I have done. I will go with you from this +sin-stricken house!" + +"Yes," Joseph answered, "my brother, you will go with me, but not as you +think, to the hands of human law. It is not God's will that you should +suffer for what you have done at the hands of human justice. His will +towards you is very different, and I am come to be the humble instrument +of it. You will come with me, as you say; but you will come with me to +my own house, there to make your repentance before Almighty God, meekly +kneeling upon your knees, and asking for forgiveness for your great sin +and for grace to live a new life in the future, henceforth serving Him +and bearing the weight of the Cross which He bore for you so long ago, +until at last, in His good will and time, you may be gathered up and +join the blessed company of those saved by Christ's precious blood." + +The deep, grave words roused the long dormant religious instinct in the +heart of the worldly financier who stood broken and abject before him. +The Jew remembered the days of his youth, when he also had prayed to the +Lord of Hosts and the God of Israel in the synagogue of his parents. In +one swift burst of remembrance the times came back to him when he had +bound the phylacteries upon his forehead, and heard the priests of +Israel reading from the Holy Book of the Law. He saw in a sudden riot of +memory the solemn hours of Passover, tasted the forgotten savor of days +of fasting, performed the holy ablutions of his faith. And now he heard +from the lips of the man whom he had tried to murder, news of that other +religion which he had scorned and derided all his life, and yet which +was but the fulfilment of the prophecies of his own. One had come to him +preaching the Messiah Whom he had spurned--the Jew Who was both God and +Man, and Whose Agony had saved the world. + +Levison bowed his head in his hands and wept. + +"And you," he said, between his sobs, "if indeed God can forgive me for +the evil that I have done, how can you forgive me? I have never spoken +to you, yet I hated you because you had come into my theatre and +disturbed my life and taken the profits of my business away from me. But +you have not done to me a tithe of the evil I would have done to you. +You came to me, knowing well my evil life and that I pandered to the +passions of the low and the debased. You did what I now see the Lord +commanded you to do. But I----How can you forgive me, Master?" + +"Brother," Joseph answered, "it is a very little thing for me to +forgive you. It is nothing, and is no merit in me. I have no anger +towards you in my heart. What you did you did, and it was a sin for +which you must answer to the Almighty. But I am well aware that you +walked in darkness, and had not seen the Light. If our beloved Master +Jesus could forgive the men who nailed Him to the Cross, should not His +humble and unworthy follower forgive what you have done? Brother, I +forgive you with all my heart. Accept my forgiveness and my love, and +come with me, that you may learn more of Him who is above the thrones +and principalities and powers of this earth; of Him who is not only +justice, but mercy and tenderness inexpressible; of Him to Whom all men +are equal, Who loveth all men." + +They passed out of the scented room and into the silent hall, where no +servants or others were about. Together they left that house, to which +neither were ever to return; that house in which so many and strange +things had been done, and which now seemed as a house of the dead. + +A carriage was waiting at the garden gate. The two men entered it and it +rolled swiftly away down the hill towards London. + +It was now quite dark. + +The oppression of the thunder seemed to have passed away, and the air +was fresh and cool as they drove through the roaring, lighted streets of +the great Babylon towards the Brothers' house in Bloomsbury. Once or +twice, as the carriage halted in a block of traffic, Levison saw the +newspaper boys holding the startling contents sheets before them, and +the tragic headlines met his eye. At such times he shuddered like a leaf +in the wind, and the tears of remorse and agony rolled down his cheeks +unregarded, splashing upon his ringed hands. + +Then Joseph would lean towards him and speak quietly in his ear. +"Because he hath set his love upon Me, therefore will I deliver him; I +will set him up because he hath known My name. He shall call upon Me, +and I will hear him; yea, I am with him in trouble; I will deliver him +and bring him to honor. With long life will I satisfy him, and show him +My salvation." + +They came at last to the house of the Brothers, but as the carriage +turned into the square, there was a sudden roar from many hundreds of +voices. An enormous crowd had collected before the house, stirred to the +depths by the news of the terrible tragedy which had occurred in the +afternoon. + +Almost immediately that the carriage began to move among the crowd, some +electric wave of feeling seemed to pass over every one, and they all +knew that the Teacher was among them. + +Then, from every voice rose up a great chorus of joy and thanksgiving. A +crashing harmony of praise rent the very air, and caused the people in +far distant squares and thoroughfares to turn their heads and listen in +amaze. + +The Master had returned, safe and unharmed--the Master whose name and +power were already thrilling the metropolis as it was never thrilled +before; the God-guided Teacher who was bringing new light into the +lives of thousands, building a great dam against the threatening tides +of sin, evil and death. + +With great difficulty the carriage made its way to the spacious door, +which was immediately flung open, showing the lighted hall and the +Brothers, with Hampson, the journalist, among them, standing there to +welcome the man that they revered and loved. + +Together Levison and the Master entered. But ere the door was closed +Joseph turned and raised his hand. In a moment a dead silence fell over +the crowd. + +"Brethren," the deep voice thrilled, "I will be with you in a moment, +for I have somewhat to say to you." + +Then the door closed. + +Joseph took the trembling creature by his side into a little warm and +lighted room. + +"Brother," he said, "the hour of your repentance is at hand. Kneel and +pray to the Man of Sorrows, and if no words come to you, call upon Him +by name, and He will come--Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!" + +Then, turning, he went out to the crowd. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +CONSOLIDATION + + +A month had passed by. + +For a fortnight after the death of Sir Augustus Kirwan the Press had +been full of surmise and conjecture. New theories as to the identity of +the murderer were advanced every day. Every now and again some +enterprising journal would appear with a column of exclusive news, which +pointed to the fact that the criminal was discovered through the acumen +of the journal's own private detectives, and was certain to be arrested +in two days at least. He never was arrested, and two days afterwards +some new sensation drew a red herring across the old trail, while the +public read on and were perfectly content, provided that they were +thrilled. + +It was generally agreed, however, by Press and public alike, that Sir +Augustus Kirwan had not been the real object of attack, but that the +shot had been aimed at Joseph, the evangelist. This general certainty +had marked a definite effect upon the way in which the Teacher was +regarded. The hostility of the unthinking mob was disarmed by it. It +became known to the great mass of the common people that whatever Joseph +might be, whatever impossible doctrines he might preach, his one idea +was to alleviate the miseries and sorrows of the poor, not only in a +spiritual, but also in a solid, concrete, and material fashion. + +Opposition still continued, of course, but the tragedy in the East End +had broken it up into separate camps, and there was no longer a steady +tide of enmity, such as there had been at the commencement of the +evangelist's stupendous mission to London. + +On the night of the murder itself an event had occurred which was very +far-reaching in its consequences, though at the moment none of those who +were present quite realized the significance of what they heard. The +Teacher had appeared upon the steps of his house in Bloomsbury, and had +addressed the enormous crowd during the early part of the night. This +crowd had been attracted to the square by the news published in the +evening papers of Sir Augustus' murder and Joseph's escape. They had +congregated there out of curiosity, in the first instance; but when +Joseph had appeared in a carriage, together with a stranger, there had +been a spontaneous outburst of genuine affection from the many-throated +multitude. + +It was as though every person there, whether he had seen the evangelist +before or not, was genuinely glad at his escape, felt that sense of +personal brotherhood and love, that ungrudging recognition of a high and +noble nature whose aims were purely unselfish, which now and then is +vouchsafed to an assembly to feel, and which, in the psychology of +crowds, is the very highest manifestation of cumulative feeling. + +Then had come a short but enormously powerful and heart-searching +address. + +There was a note of great sadness in it, so some of the most sensitive +members of the crowd imagined, a note heralding a farewell, though, on +after reflection, it was supposed that the terrible events of the +afternoon had naturally disturbed and unstrung the Teacher in a very +great degree. + +The peculiar note which the address had struck was that which made it a +very special occasion in the history of Joseph's mission to London. It +was not only an exhortation to the people there to repent and seek +forgiveness at the foot of the Cross, it was not only an exhortation to +each member of the crowd to live a holy life and walk in the ways of the +Lord--it was all this, but there was something more, and something new. + +Joseph had, as if with the certainty of most absolute confidence, bidden +every person there from that moment to go out into the world as a +definite minister of the Gospel. It was as though addressing a +congregation of known and tried disciples, whom he knew would obey his +behests and carry out his wishes. So some great captain might have +spoken to his officers, delivering them a special mission. + +"Go out, my dear brothers, this very night, as ministers of the Word of +God, to spread the knowledge of Him in London. Repent and be baptized, +every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of +sins, and you shall receive the Holy Ghost." + +With fiery words he called upon them to deny themselves all things, to +break off all associations with evil and worldly things which warred +against the soul; to do their work, whatever it might be, to the glory +of God, and to spend every moment of their spare time in a definite, +individual campaign against the hosts of evil. + +The burning eloquence of his words, short as was the time during which +he spoke to them, made a deep impression upon many hundreds there. The +dark square, with its tall lamp-posts around, and the glow of yellow +light which poured from the door of the great house, the deep organ-note +of London's traffic all around, the whole strangeness and mystery of the +scene, could never be forgotten by any one that witnessed it. And in the +result it had actually happened that in that single evening the power of +the Teacher's words had keyed up lives that were faltering between good +and evil, had sown the seed of righteousness in barren and empty hearts, +had sent out a veritable company far and wide over London, who, each in +his own way, and with the measure of his powers and capacity, became a +minister of Jesus. + +"Was it not, indeed, true?" many righteous men and women asked +themselves during the ensuing month, when the leaven was working in +strange and unexpected directions. "Was it not, indeed, true, that down +upon that crowd of Londoners some portion of the Holy Spirit had +descended, some sacred fire which, even as the fires of Pentecost +themselves, had again repeated the miracle which was prophesied by the +prophet Joel?" + +All over London, among thinking Christians, there came an added +conviction that it was indeed true that one specially guided and gifted +of God was among them. A man was in their midst to whom the Holy Spirit +was given in abounding and overflowing measure, and who, like Enoch, +walked with God. And many lovers of Jesus felt that perhaps now, indeed, +the time was come when once more the Almighty Father would pour out His +Spirit upon all flesh--the time when their sons and their daughters +should prophesy, the young men see visions, and the old men dream +dreams. + +Was it not true now, as it ever had been, that "whosoever shall call +upon the name of the Lord shall be saved?" + +And so, during the month which had gone by since the tragedy in +Whitechapel, the fame of the Master had grown and grown, until it had +become less of the breathless sensation which it had appeared at first, +and had settled down into a definite and concrete thing. + +It was at this juncture that two articles appeared in two newspapers. +One was an article signed "Eric Black" in the _Daily Wire_, another one +written by Hampson, the editor of the _Sunday Friend_. + +The _Daily Wire_ was, of course, the leading popular daily paper of +England. The _Sunday Friend_, under Hampson's editorship, and especially +since the advent of the evangelist, had become an enormous power among +all definitely Christian people. + +The article of Eric Black in the _Daily Wire_ was far less enthusiastic +in tone than that written by Hampson, Joseph's old and trusted friend. +It was very judicial in manner, and from this very circumstance it +gained an additional weight, and had, perhaps, even a greater influence +than the other. + +Eric Black, the brilliant young journalist, had never faltered in his +resolve to follow the banner of Christ since the night when, with his +own eyes, he saw the man of God raise up the sufferer from his sick bed. +At the same time, Black, far more than Hampson, was a man of the world, +a young, brilliant, modern man of the world. He realized that in order +to make the Kingdom of Heaven intelligible it was most certainly +necessary to understand the kingdom of this world as well. To plant the +good seed in the waiting ground one must not only know all about the +seed itself, but must be acquainted with the properties of the ground in +which it is destined to fructify. + +In thoroughly understanding this, the journalist, in his great +summing-up article of the work of Joseph the evangelist, had refrained +from enthusiastic comment, and had merely stated and made a record of +indubitable, incontrovertible fact. + +Never before, during the time of the Teacher's ministry, had there been +a concise epitome of its events, its progress, and its results. + +London, and all England, indeed, was supplied with such a document now, +and even the most thoughtless were compelled to pause and wonder what +these things might mean. + +Every instance of the supernormal happening--Eric Black refused the word +supernatural, and substituted for it the wiser and more comprehensive +word--was tabulated, set forth in detail, and attested by the affidavits +of witnesses whose bona fides could not be doubted. + +The enormous charities which had begun to be active under the ægis of +the Teacher were explained and discussed, and in one day London was +amazed to learn of great fortunes which were being deflected from their +old paths and were pouring their benefits to relieve the necessities of +the downtrodden and oppressed. Names and sums were given, and the man in +the street gasped as he realized the tremendous force of a personality +which had already captured millions of money for the work and service of +God. + +If some of the wealthiest and most celebrated men in England had gladly +given up a great part of that which they possessed for the benefit of +others, was there not, indeed, something beyond all ordinary explanation +in this stupendous fact? + +Perhaps, indeed, such occurrences as these impressed the great mass of +the public more even than the supernormal occurrences to which Black's +famous article bore witness. To the mind of the ordinary self-seeking +man there is something far more wonderful in the fact of a man with a +hundred pounds giving seventy-five of it away to other people, without +hope of earthly reward or wish for earthly praise and recognition, than +even the appearance of an angel in the sky heralding the second coming +of Our Lord would probably be. + +The brain of each single unit of the human race is exactly what he has +made it by a long series of habits and thoughts directed to one object. +It is not more wonderful that the sot and low-minded man cannot +appreciate beautiful music or perfect scenery than it is that the +self-centred intellect is unable to accept the evidence for the unseen +or realize that this life is but a phantom that will pass away. + +Both the article of Eric Black and that written by the editor of the +_Sunday Friend_ finally summed up the difference that the arrival of +Joseph in the Modern Babylon had made to existing conditions. + +The theatres of the bad sort, which pandered to the lower instincts of +those who patronized them, were almost empty. Several of them were +closed, "for the production of a new play." A strong agitation was going +on in Parliament to make it prohibitive for women to be employed in the +drinking saloons and bars of London. In vast areas the preachers of the +Brotherhood had reduced the gambling evil among the poorer classes to a +most appreciable extent. + +The working man was being taught by the direct agency of the Holy +Spirit, as manifested in Joseph's followers, and by the inexorable law +of quiet logic and common-sense, to turn his attention from the things +of to-day and the immediate amusement of the moment, to the future of +his soul. The greatest work of all was, perhaps, accomplished in this +direction, and it was found that once the ordinary intelligence was +convinced of the existence of a future state, the ordinary intelligence +saw immediately the necessity for preparing for eternity during this +short and finite life. + +London, day by day, hour by hour almost, was growing more serious. The +churches were filling once more, especially and markedly those in which +there was a daily celebration of the Eucharist. A great wave of +religious feeling was sweeping over the metropolis. And on all sides the +cry of the ignorant and the desirous was heard-- + +"What shall we do to be saved?" + +Some two days after the month which had elapsed since the murder of Sir +Augustus, Sir Thomas Ducaine sat in his library, talking earnestly to +Hampson the journalist. + +Ever since the first night when the two strangely opposite natures had +met at the Frivolity Theatre the friendship between the millionaire +baronet and the humble journalist had grown and strengthened. Then had +come Sir Thomas' conversion to the truth, his public confession of +Christ, which had welded the bond of friendship between the two men into +something that only death itself could end in this world, but to renew +it in the next. + +Lady Kirwan had retired to the great family country-house in +Hertfordshire, a broken and unhappy woman. She had refused to see Joseph +or even Sir Thomas Ducaine again, persisting in her attitude of absolute +hostility to the Teacher and all his friends. Marjorie Kirwan had become +quietly engaged to the Duke of Dover. + +Lady Kirwan--and this was the worst of all--had turned against her +niece, Mary Lys. The will of Sir Augustus had come as an enormous +surprise to the world. No one had realized how wealthy the financier +was, and his testamentary dispositions had startled everybody. Trustees +were placed in the possession of a million of money, which was to be +handed over to his daughter upon her marriage. Lady Kirwan had a life +interest in almost an equal sum. When she died this vast property was to +go to her niece, Mary Lys, without any conditions whatever. Two hundred +thousand pounds had been left to the influential committee of trustees +which now administered the great sums of money which had been given or +left to Joseph and his brethren. + +The position of Mary was, therefore, a very strange one. She had become +one of the greatest heiresses in England, she was engaged to Sir Thomas +Ducaine, but nothing would induce her aunt to see her or hold any +communication with her. At first the poor girl had thought of returning +to the hospital in the East End for a time, but another way had been +found out of the difficulty. + +Lady Susan Wells, an elderly spinster, a daughter of the Earl of +Fakenham, and aunt to Sir Thomas Ducaine, had asked Mary to live with +her at her house in Belgrave Square. The plan had been adopted, and Mary +was still able, owing to this arrangement, to actively assist in +Joseph's work, and carry on her life of sweet self-sacrifice and help. + +Sir Thomas and Hampson sat on each side of the library fire. + +"Joseph ought to be here now," Hampson remarked. + +Sir Thomas nodded and said: + +"I feel to-night as if something very important were going to happen. +Neither of us have seen Joseph for four days now. Nobody, in fact, has +seen him, and nobody knows what he has been doing. One of his strange +disappearances and withdrawals from the rush of life has taken place +again. When that occurs we always know something is going to happen." + +"He has been communing with God," Hampson answered gravely, and even as +he spoke the butler opened the door, and the tall figure of the Master +entered. + +Joseph looked very thin and pale. He seemed a man who had but lately +come through days of deep suffering. + +Sir Thomas rose. + +"Ah, my friend," he said, "we were speaking of you at this moment, and +wondering what you had to tell us. We got your letter, of course, and we +knew that you had some very important thing to say. Come and tell us +what it is." + +"My brothers," Joseph answered, his face beaming with love and sadness +as he looked upon them both, "I come to tell you of the end!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +SUPREME MOMENTS + + +The dawn came. + +The sun rose over the still, grey sea, and the first rays which flashed +out over the brim of the world shone in through the open window of the +little bedroom. + +It was a simple cottage room. The walls were whitewashed, the +appointments were primitive, and the fresh light of morning fell upon +the little truckle-bed in which a young man lay sleeping. + +One arm rested behind his head, another was flung carelessly over the +counterpane. The sun touched a strong, clean-shaven face, a face +clear-cut as a cameo, with resolution in every line, and with a curious +happiness lying upon it, even as the sunlight touched it. + +Thomas Ducaine was sleeping in the little cottage room of the Welsh +village, where he had come for the great day of his life. + +As the sun touched the young and noble face, the head moved a little, +and the firm mouth parted in a happy smile. As they will in dreams, +towards the end of both sleep and dreaming, the events of the last day +or two were summing themselves up in the sub-conscious brain, just +before consciousness itself was about to return, and the eyes open upon +the happy day. + +Over the sea the sun rose, the sea-birds winged above the smooth water +with shrill, joyous voices, the little ozone-laden breeze eddied upon +the fore-shore, and found its way into the room of the sleeping man. + +Then, as day began to move and stir, and all the happy world of Wales +prepared to greet it, Sir Thomas Ducaine opened his eyes and awoke. + +For a moment or two he lay looking round him with eyes which still held +part of the deep mystery of sleep, and then at last everything came back +to him. He sat up in the bed, the color mounted to his cheeks, and as he +turned his face towards the window and saw the brilliant but still +sleeping glory of the early-rising sun and quiet sea, he buried his face +in his hands and prayed. + +For this was the morning of his life, the morning of all mornings; there +would never be another morning like this. + +A week ago Joseph had come to him in the night. Pale, wan, and wearied, +yet still with the inextinguishable fires of the Spirit shining through +his eyes, informing all his movements and words, Joseph had come to him +with a solemn message. + +The Master had told him that, despite all that had happened, although to +the world of society and convention he and Mary were still in the depths +of mourning, it was necessary that they should put all these material +and social considerations on one side, and that their love should be +sealed and signed by the blessing of the Church--that the time of the +singing of the birds had come, that wedlock awaited them. + +And so, without further questioning, Thomas and Mary obeyed the voice of +the man who had had so stupendous an influence upon their lives, and +gave the direction of their actions into his keeping. Both of them were +certain that what their beloved Teacher ordained for them was just and +right. Nay, more than that, they knew that the words of Joseph, which +ordered their doings, were more than the words of a mere man; that, as +always, the Holy Spirit informed them. + +The sun poured into the humble room, filling it with amber light and the +fresh breeze of the dawn. + +Thomas Ducaine leapt from his bed, and went to the low window. Leaning +his arms upon the sill, he breathed in the gracious, welcoming air, and +looked out over the ocean to the far horizon, with eyes that were dim +with happy gratitude and gracious tears. + +Yes, this, indeed, was the day of days. The morning of all mornings had +come! + +Leaning out of the window, he saw the curve of little whitewashed houses +which fringed the bay. The fishers' boats rocked at anchor beyond the +granite mole, and far at the end of the village his eyes fell upon +another whitewashed cottage. As he saw it once more, he placed his hands +before his face and sent up a deep and fervent petition to the Almighty +that he might indeed be worthy of the precious and saintly maiden whom +he knew was sleeping there in her sweet innocence. + +This was the morning of mornings! + +When the sun had risen higher in the heavens, he would walk to the +little granite-walled, slate-roofed church. Mary would meet him there, +and Joseph and the brethren who had accompanied the Teacher from London +back to their old beloved home. And there, without pomp or ceremony, +noise of publicity, or the rout and stir of a great company, he would +place his hand in the hand of the girl he loved, and the old village +priest would make them one for ever in this world and the next, and +afterwards give them the Body and Blood of Our Lord. + +Behind the cottages the great mountains towered up into the sky. One +purple peak, still covered at the summit by a white curtain of cloud, +was the mountain where Lluellyn Lys, the brother of Mary, lay in sleep. + +Thomas could see the mountain from the cottage, and as his eyes traveled +up the green and purple sides to the mysterious cap which hid the top, +he remembered all that he had heard about it, and looked upward with an +added interest and awe. + +For this was the mountain upon which Joseph had first met the mysterious +recluse of the hills who had changed him from what he had been to what +he was. This was the modern Sinai, where the Master had communed with +God. Here he had gathered together his disciples, had preached to them +with the voice which the Holy Spirit had given him, and blessed them, +and led them to the conquest of London, to the Cross. + +Yes, it was there, on those seemingly inaccessible heights, that the +great drama of Joseph's life had begun, and it was there that the drama +of his life--the life of Thomas Ducaine--was to receive its seal and +setting. + +After the marriage and the simple feast, which was to be held in the +village, they were all to climb the heights, and there, up in the +clouds, Joseph was to bless them and give them, so it was said, +whispered, and understood, a special message. + +The bridegroom left the window, knelt down at his bedside, and prayed. +This complex, young, modern gentleman--a product of every influence +which makes for subtlety and decadence of brain and body--knelt down and +said his prayers with the simplicity of a child. Despite his vast +wealth, his upbringing as a young prince of modern England, Thomas +Ducaine had lived a life far more pure and unspotted than almost any of +his contemporaries. It was that fact, so patent in his face and manner, +which had first attracted Hampson to him, when the two had met in the +Frivolity Theatre--how long ago that seemed now! + +So the young man with great possessions said the Lord's Prayer in the +fresh morning light, and then prayed most earnestly that he might be +worthy of the gift that God had given him--the love of the sweetest, +purest, and loveliest lady in the land. + +He prayed that God would be pleased to bless their union at the supreme +moment which was now so imminent, and for ever afterwards. His whole +heart and soul went up to the throne of the Most High in supplication +for himself and the girl who was to be his wife. That they might live +together in godly and righteous wedlock; that they might spend their +lives, and the wealth which had been given them, for the good of others +and for the welfare of the world; that at the last they might be +gathered up in the company of the elect, might tread the shining +pavements of Heaven, and see the face of God--these were the prayers of +the young man as, like a knight of old, he kept the vigil before the +Sacrament which was to come. + +He went down to the little sleeping cove and bathed in the fresh, clear +water of the sea. The right arm rose and fell forcefully, conquering an +element, as rejoicing in his strength, rejoicing in the glory of the +morning, rejoicing in the sense that God was with him, and that His +blessing was upon his doings, he swam out into the sea, laughing aloud +with holy rapture at what was, what was to come, and what would be. + +Then, once more, he re-entered the little cottage, and found the old +Welsh woman who was his hostess preparing the simple breakfast meal. She +put the griddle cakes, fresh eggs and milk before him, but he stood, +looking down upon the board, and, turning to her, refused to eat. + +"No," he said, "I will go fasting to my wedding. I will eat no earthly +food until I take the Body and Blood of Jesus from the priest's hand. +It will be afterwards that the feast comes." + +"Oh, my dear," she answered, in her broken English--"my dear, that's +right of ye, though indeed and indeed I should wish you would take +something. But you are right--my dear, go to your love fasting, and you +will never fast more." + +Another door, opening into the little raftered kitchen, was pushed +aside, and Hampson entered. + +His face was white and pinched. All night long the little man had been +wrestling with the last remnants of the old Adam which remained within +him. From the moment when the gracious lady who was about to become the +bride of his dear friend had saved him from death, the journalist had +loved Mary with a dog-like fidelity and adoration. He knew, as he had +known at that moment when he had been with her upon the roof of +England's great cathedral, and seen the white cross hanging over London, +that she could never, under any possible circumstances, have been his. + +He had known this and realized it always, but upon this last night of +her maidenhood, when she was about to finally and irrevocably join her +life to another's, there had been mad hours of revolt, of natural, human +revolt, in his brain. + +Now it was all over. He had passed through the Valley of the Shadow, and +the morning was come. + +For Mr. Hampson also the morning of all mornings was come, the morning +when he had finally and utterly laid down his own desires at the foot of +the Cross, had bowed to the will of the Almighty, and found himself +filled with sacred joy in the joy of the two people he loved better than +any one else in the world, save only his dear Master, Joseph. + +In his hand the little man held a book bound in crimson leather. It was +the Revised Version of the New Testament, the latest product of the +University Press, and a very beautiful specimen of typography and +binding. + +He came up to his friend and shook him warmly by the hand. Then he gave +him the book. + +"Thomas," he said, "there is nothing that I can give you that you have +not got. And, of course, it would be silly of me to give you anything of +material value, because all those things you have had from your youth +up. But here is my little offering. It is only the New Testament. I have +written something upon the fly-leaf, and if you will use it constantly +instead of any other copy that you may have, it will be a great joy to +me. Indeed, my dear fellow," he continued with a smile, "I can give you +nothing more valuable than this." + +There was a moment of tense emotion, which was broken, and fortunately +broken, by the voice of the old Welsh woman. + +"Now then, my dear," she said, "you are not going to be married this +morning, so you will take your breakfast--indeed, you must an' all. The +bells will be ringing soon, but not for you, and so you must keep your +body warm with food." + +Hampson sat down to the simple meal. + +Thomas Ducaine, carrying the crimson volume in his hand, went out into +the sunlight, which was now becoming brilliant and strong. He walked +down the silent village street, his feet stirring up the white dust as +he went, for it had been long since rain had fallen in the Welsh +village, and strolled to the end of the mole which stretched out into +the blue sea. Standing there, he breathed in the marvellous invigorating +air of the morning, and his whole young, fresh body responded to the +appeal which nature made. + +This was the morning of mornings! + +In a few short hours--how short, how blissfully short!--Mary would come +to him.... There were no words in which to clothe his thoughts or in +which to voice his thankfulness and joy. He surveyed his past life +rapidly and swiftly. It passed before him in a panoramic vista, full of +color, but blurred and unimportant until the wonderful night when, as he +stood at the door of his house in Piccadilly with Hampson, the tall +figure of the Teacher had suddenly appeared out of the night, and had +entered into his house with blessing and salvation. + +From that time onwards, the vista of happenings was more detailed, more +definitely clear. He realized that he owed, not only his present +material felicity--the fact that all his hopes and desires were to be +consummated in the little village church before the sun had reached his +midday height--but also all the new spiritual awakening, the certainty +of another life, the hope of eternal blessedness, to one cause, to one +personality. + +It was at this moment to Joseph that his thoughts went, to that strange +force and power--more force and power, indeed, than that of mere human +man--which, or who, had changed his life from a dull and hopeless +routine--how he realized that now!--to this beatitude of morning light, +of love to the world, and thankfulness to God. + +Joseph was somewhere in the neighborhood, that he knew. Where exactly +the Teacher was he could not say. Mary was staying at the little cottage +which he could see as he sent his eyes roving round the semicircle of +white houses which fringed the bay, with her aunt, Lady Susan Wells. +Hampson was to be "best man." Bridesmaids there were none. It was to be +the simplest of all ceremonies. + +This prince of modern London was to be married to one of the greatest +heiresses in England, and a member of one of the oldest families in the +United Kingdom, as Colin might marry Audrey--happily, quietly, and far +from the view of the world. + +Whether Joseph himself would be present at the ceremony even Ducaine +himself was not quite certain. That after the wedding-feast--the simple +wedding-feast--they were all to meet Joseph upon the mountain-top, he +was well aware. It had been arranged, and he thrilled with anticipation +of some further and more wonderful revelation of the designs of the +Almighty than had ever been vouchsafed to him before. But at the +church--he hoped the Teacher would be present in the little village +church when he and Mary were made one. + +He turned to walk back to the cottage, when down the granite pier he saw +that a little flaxen-haired girl was walking. In all the sleeping +semicircle of the village Thomas and the little girl seemed alone to be +awake. + +The blue wood-smoke was rising from the chimneys of the cottages, but as +yet no one was stirring in the outside air. + +The little girl came tripping and laughing along the granite isthmus +between the waters, and in her hand she held a folded piece of paper. + +With the confiding innocence of childhood, she came straight up to the +tall young man, and stretching out her tiny arm, looked into his face. + +"You are Thomas, aren't you?" she said. + +"Yes," he answered, "I am Thomas." + +"Then this is for you, Thomas," she replied. "This letter an' all. Dadda +was up in the mountain this morning, and William Rees, whateffer, met +dadda, and gave him this letter, which Mr. Joseph had given him. The +Teacher is staying up in the little house in the mountain-top where +Lluellyn Lys used to live, and he gave this to William Rees, and William +Rees gave it to dadda, and dadda told me to find you and give it to you, +Thomas." + +Ducaine opened the letter. These were the words + +"I shall not be with you in body when you and Mary are made one. But I +shall be with you in the spirit, my dear friend. When you have made your +communion and kept the feast come up with the Brethren to the +mountain-top. There I will bless you. And now, farewell!" + + * * * * * + +"Therefore, if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully +be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold +his peace." + + * * * * * + +"... I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the +Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.... God the Father, +God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord +mercifully look upon you, and so fill you with all spiritual benediction +and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world +to come ye may have life everlasting." + + * * * * * + +Arm in arm they went out from the little church, joined together, man +and wife, for ever and a day--the goodly young man and the girl with the +face of an angel. + +The fiddlers who were waiting set up a merry tune, as, surrounded by +their humble friends, they walked to the tithe-barn in which the +marriage feast was to be. + +As they all stood waiting till the signal to fall-to should be given, +Thomas Ducaine took his wife's hand in his, bowed over it, and kissed it +in gracious chivalry. + +Then he drew her to him and kissed her on the lips. + +The music broke out once more as all the company sat down. It was a +short and merry feast, yet not untainted with the Celtic sadness which +all the Welsh folk feel at happy moments. + +One and all, from bride and bridegroom down to the humblest worker +there, knew that there were more stirring and awful things to come; that +a trumpet was sounding on the mountain summit; that they were to climb +as if into the presence of the Almighty. + +Old David Owen, Joseph's trusted lieutenant, lifted on high a great +goblet of the pure mountain water, in which he pledged the newly married +pair. + +"I pledge you," he said, "Mary and Thomas, brother and sister in the +Lord, followers of our dear Teacher--I pledge you and call upon all that +are present here to join me in the toast. May your life together be one +long song of happiness! May you, with all the opportunities that God has +given you, always remain true to the trust reposed in you, and follow +the banner of Jesus, and once more plunge into the battle for the +winning over of Babylon to the Lord!" + +Then the old man paused, and, setting down his glass, placed his hands +upon the table, and leaning forward, spoke very earnestly and quietly, +rather to the assembled company than to the married pair. + +"The Master," he said, "is not with us now; but we are going to meet +him, and I doubt not we are all to receive another signal proof of the +Lord's favor. To some of us it has been a grief that Joseph was not in +the church when the marriage was made of the two we love. But Joseph's +ways are not our ways, and he is led as we are not led. But I would say +this to you, dear brethren and sisters. I see around me those who a long +time ago--it seems a very long time ago--accompanied the Master from +these hills to the great Modern Babylon of our time. There is no one +here who does not remember the saint of the mountain, Lluellyn Lys. +There is no one here who has not known the circumstances under which our +dear Teacher first came down to these parts. I mind well that I was one +of those who carried him up to the mountain, ill and crippled as he was. +And it was through that strange fellowship of Joseph and Lluellyn that +the things have come to pass. We all assembled on the mountain-top, +where we are going soon, to bury Lluellyn, and we all heard our Master +as he took on the mantle of Elijah and called us to rally round the +standard of Jesus with him as leader. And now we are all going once more +to that sacred spot on the top of Pendrydos, and God grant that we may +hear inspiring and edifying things there. I have just pledged Thomas and +Mary as our brother and our sister in the fight we are waging, and have +still to wage, against the sins of the great city so far away from here. +I pledge them in the name of you all, and as our brother and our sister. +But it would ill become me not to say a word upon another part of the +question. We must remember that Thomas, our brother, is also Sir Thomas +Ducaine, a man of great fortune and of high lineage. We must also +remember that Mary, our sister, was Miss Mary Lys, the sister of +Lluellyn Lys, and the descendant of the old kings of Wales who ruled +these parts. Just as they are leaders of our band in Christ, so also are +they leaders in the great things of this world, and we owe them a double +loyalty." + +He stopped for a moment, and the old face worked as he thought deeply. +Then with a wild, free Celtic gesture, he threw out one hand. + +"I can say no more," he said; "but you all know what they are, and who +they are. God bless them for our natural leaders and our friends in the +Lord! And now, what think you, shall we not climb the mountain?" + +It is a steep road from the little village through the pine plantations, +until one comes out upon the mountain-side itself. At that point a green +gorge stretches up between two spurs of the hill above, a green gorge +covered with soft, pneumatic turf cropped like a lawn by the innumerable +sheep which range over those high pastures. And then on and up, through +the pleasant, slanting valley, until the heather-covered plateau is +reached. + +There one surveys a vast expanse of wild and lonely moor, all purple, +green, and brown. At huge distances great peaks rise up--the peaks of +the Snowdon range--and on clear moments the white and glistening cap of +the emperor mountain of Wales shines in its distant majesty. + +So they went out into the sunshine, and wound their way through the +lower slopes of the pines quietly and gravely, without many words, but +with the quickening sense of hope and anticipation strong in each rugged +and faithful heart. + +Upon the great green gorge they made their way, a skein of black +figures. Before them all Sir Thomas and Lady Ducaine walked together. +The bridegroom was dressed in a simple suit of tweed, and with a soft +grey hat upon his head. The bride wore an ordinary coat and skirt, like +any mountaineering lady who has essayed the heights upon a brilliant +day. + +As they went together, a little in advance of the main company, they +spoke hardly a word to each other. But their faces were eloquent. In the +man's eyes there was a thankfulness so supreme and perfect that the +girl's filled with tears when she looked at that serene and radiant +face. With no word said, they knew that they were now each other's for +ever and ever. All toil, all trouble, all heart-burnings, +heart-searchings and sorrow were over. Nothing could ever alter the +great central fact: they were married, they were one, one spirit, one +body, one for ever in the sight of earth and Heaven, one in the high +endeavor of good which was to be the purpose and completion of their +lives. + +"Are you happy, dear?" he said to her once, turning his radiant face +upon her. + +She looked at him for a moment without speaking, and he knew that he had +never seen her more beautiful, and perhaps never would see her more +beautiful again, than she was at that moment. + +"Oh, my life and my love," she answered, "I did not know that God could +give such happiness in this world!" + +And as she finished, fifty yards below them upon the mountain-side they +heard that the Brethren who accompanied them were bursting into sudden +song, into spontaneous chords of music, a wedding anthem for them. + + "O Lord of life and love, + Come Thou again to-day; + And bring a blessing from above + That ne'er shall pass away. + + O bless, as erst of old, + The bridegroom and the bride; + Bless with the holier stream that flow'd + Forth from Thy piercèd side. + + Before Thine altar-throne + This mercy we implore; + As Thou dost knit them, Lord, in one, + So bless them evermore." + +As the crashing, rolling chords ceased and echoed far away among the +purple mountains, they found that they had come into the higher lands +and were upon the last mountain moorland, from which before them the +granite peak of their final endeavor rose stark and awful, its head +still hidden by the clouds. + +And then, as they moved towards the steep path among the boulders and +the slate terraces, a change came over the spirits of all of them. It +was not a chill of depression, but rather a sense of awe and the +imminence of awful things. The immediate occasion was forgotten. Out of +the minds of all of them, save only those of the man and maid who had +been made one upon that happy morning, the remembrance of the marriage +feast passed and dissolved. + +They were going up the last part of their journey to meet the Teacher +who was up there in the clouds by the tomb of Lluellyn Lys, waiting for +them with a message from God. + +Silently, and almost without effort, they wound up the huge, steep rock. + +The bracken ceased, the heather was no more, and only the vast granite +boulders, painted a thousand fantastic colors--ash-green, crimson, +orange, and vivid grey--by the lichens which covered them, reminded them +that they were still in a world where herbs grew and the kindly nature +of the vales yet held a divided sway with the mysterious and untrodden +places of the sky. + +Now the light, which had become fainter and more faint as the first +fleecy heralds of the great cloud-cap into which they were entering +enveloped them, began to fail utterly. They walked and climbed upwards, +upwards and for ever up, in a white world of ghostly vapor, until at +last, without a sound, and with profound expectation and reverence in +every heart, they knew by the change in the contour of the ground that +they were near upon the mountain-top, and close to the cairn of stones +where their old leader, Lluellyn Lys, lay in his long sleep, and where +their living guide and Master, Joseph, was awaiting them. + +On the very top of the mountain itself the air was bitter chill, and the +ghostly cloud-wreaths circled round them, while their quiet, +questioning voices sounded muffled and forlorn. + +They waited there, not knowing whether to advance or to call to the man +whom they had come to seek. At the head of the little group Thomas and +Mary stood hand in hand, looking at each other with questioning eyes and +waiting. + +Then, through the swaying whiteness, they saw a grey shadow advancing +towards them. It grew from a shadow into a blackness, from a blackness +into the form of a tall man, and in a second more the Teacher had come +to them. + +None of them there ever forgot, none of all who were there ever will be +able to forget, that sudden, silent advent of the man who led them, and +whom they loved. + +He came upon them without noise, came upon them through the gloom. But +as he came he seemed to bring with him a radiance which was not of this +earth. Many of them said that round the noble head which so poignantly +resembled and so wonderfully reminded them of the face of the Man of +Sorrows, a yellow nimbus hung, a bright radiance which illuminated that +grave countenance, and shone in the gloom like a star of hope. + +He came up to Thomas and kissed him upon the cheek, and, turning to the +young man's wife, he kissed her also in holy greeting. Then, standing a +little way back from them, his face alight with a supreme joy and +happiness, he raised his hands and blessed them all. + +"The blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, +be among you and remain with you always.". + +The happy voice rang through the mist with an organ harmony. And it +seemed as if it was answered and echoed in its lovely music by a faint +burst of song and melody high up in the air and all around. + +It was as though the angels of Heaven were rejoicing in the mating of a +pure man and maiden. + +Then Joseph spoke again. + +"Come, beloved brother and sister, and my dear brethren," he said, "come +to the tomb of Lluellyn Lys, whose body lies here until the glorious +Resurrection Day, and whose soul is in Paradise, walking with the blest. +Come and stand round that tomb, and pray for London, which you are sworn +to conquer for the Lord. Come and pray for Thomas and Mary, that their +lives may be a song of triumph over evil, and that they may lead you +worthily until your lives end." + +With that he turned, and then all followed him until in a few steps the +long pile of granite stones rose up above them, and they stood by the +burial-place of the dead prophet of Wales. They stood round in silence, +and then old David Owen stepped out from among them and put his gnarled +old hand upon the Teacher's arm. + +"Master," he said, in a voice which quivered with emotion too deep for +tears--"Master, what words are these?" + +Joseph looked upon him with a smile of love. + +"Old friend," he answered--"old tried and trusted friend, old captain in +the army of God, you have come here with all of us to listen to my last +message." + +There was a stir and movement among them all, and through the dark each +looked at each with apprehension and fear in their hearts. + +A chill descended upon all of them, that chill which comes to one who +loves when he fears that the loved one is departing or going upon a long +journey. + +Once more Mary's hand stole into her husband's, and the cold hands that +sought each other, and clasped, were trembling. + +They heard the Master's voice above them, for he had mounted to the top +of the great cairn of piled stones, and stood spectral up there in the +mist. + +"This, beloved, is what I have to say to you," he began. "It is here and +upon this spot, that the Spirit of the Lord came to me and led me to the +work which we have carried out together. It was here that I and you knew +that it was our special mission, ordained of the Almighty and led by the +Holy Spirit, to bring London to a knowledge of God, and to do what we +could, under God's ordinance, to lead it towards the salvation of the +Cross. And it is here that I say what will be my last words to you, for +the hand of the Lord is upon me, and I think that I may not be with you +more. One and all go back to the great, dark city, and fight for its +salvation until you fall in the battle, and are caught up to the joy +which the Redeemer has promised you. One and all devote your lives, +your energies, your strength, your every power of body, mind and spirit, +to that great end. Remember always that to this special war you have +been called and summoned, and that it is your lifework and your +spiritual duty until the end. With you here to-day are our dear brother +and sister, Thomas and Mary. It is to them that I delegate my +leadership. It is to them that the guidance of the Holy Spirit which has +been so vouchsafed to me, will come. They will be your leaders in the +great battle, and it is to them that you must look for help and succor +in the material fight, as ambassadors and regents in the battle of the +Most High. + +"And now, farewell! I am going a long way, whither I know not. But it +has come to me that this is the concluding moment of my ministry, and I +bow my head humbly to the Divine Will, and pray that wherever I may be +taken I may yet be permitted to labor for the Lord until the glorious +Resurrection Day, when the supreme spirit of love will rule all things +throughout all eternity. + +"Love! That is the last word of one who loves you, and one who lives as +you all do, in the supreme love of the God of Heaven. Feed the +fatherless, comfort and succor the oppressed, give up all that you have +of goods, of energy, of power, to the poor. There is no other word but +love. Farewell!" + +The ringing voice ceased, and they stood as figures of stone, like the +great Druid circle of old heathen tombs which still remains upon the +mountain slope. + +LOVE! + +That was the last word they heard, and then the Master seemed to falter +for a moment, seemed to sway and move. There was a sound of a wind +coming nearer and nearer, as though it was rushing over the +mountain-tops from the summit of distant Snowdon itself. + +The sound of a great wind, and then a soft and sudden radiance showed +them the Christ-like figure of their Friend with the arms again upraised +in blessing, with love shining from his eyes. The sound of the wind +growing louder and louder and louder, a rushing, mighty wind, a wind +which enveloped them with wild, tempestuous force, which blew the +ghostly mists away--away and far away, until the sun shone upon the +tall, long tomb of Lluellyn Lys, and there was no more any man there. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Angel, by +Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull and Guy Thorne + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40571 *** |