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diff --git a/40571.txt b/40571.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0c38fbb..0000000 --- a/40571.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10504 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Angel, by -Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull and Guy Thorne - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Angel - -Author: Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull - Guy Thorne - -Release Date: August 24, 2012 [EBook #40571] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ANGEL *** - - - - -Produced by Mark C. Orton, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from scanned images of public domain -material from the Google Print project.) - - - - - - - - - - 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-a-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 -anaesthetic, 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 baton. - - 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 facades 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 _consomme_, _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 _consomme_ he was enjoying was a -_consomme_ 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 cuvee 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 facade 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 paean 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 _cortege_ 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 aegis 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 pierced 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 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ANGEL *** - -***** This file should be named 40571.txt or 40571.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/5/7/40571/ - -Produced by Mark C. 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