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diff --git a/41794-8.txt b/41794-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fc2ece6..0000000 --- a/41794-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8277 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Last Miracle, by M. P. Shiel - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Last Miracle - -Author: M. P. Shiel - -Release Date: January 6, 2013 [EBook #41794] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST MIRACLE *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - THE LAST MIRACLE - - By M. P. SHIEL - - _Author of "The Yellow Danger," "The Lord of the Sea," "The Evil - that Men do," "The Yellow Wave," etc._ - - LONDON - T. WERNER LAURIE - CLIFFORD'S INN - 1906 - - - "My domain how lordly large, sublime! - Time's my domain; my seedfield's Time." - - - - -THE LAST MIRACLE - - -Towards the end of May 1900 the writer received as noteworthy a letter -and packet of papers as it has been his lot to examine. They came from a -good friend of mine, a Dr A. Lister Browne, M.A. Oxon., F.R.C.P., whom, -as it happened that for some years I had been living mostly in France, -and Browne being in Norfolk, I had not seen during my visits to London. -Moreover, as we were both bad correspondents, only three notes had -passed between us in the course of those years. - -But in the May of 1900 there reached me the letter--and the packet--to -which I refer, the packet consisting of four note-books full of -shorthand, the letter also pencilled in shorthand, and this letter, -together with the note-book marked "I.," I now publish. - -[The note-book marked "II." has already appeared under the title of "The -Lord of the Sea," and that marked "III." under the title of "The Purple -Cloud," each in three languages; while that marked "IV." has been judged -unsuitable to publication.] - -The following is Browne's letter:-- - -"DEAR OLD MAN,--I have been thinking of you, wishing that you were here -to give me a last squeeze of the hand before I--_go_. Four days ago I -felt a soreness in the throat, so in passing by old Johnson's surgery at -Selbridge, I asked him to have a look at me. He muttered something about -membranous laryngitis which made me smile; but by the time I reached -home I was hoarse, and not smiling: before night I had stridor. I at -once telegraphed to London for Horsford, and he and Johnson have been -opening my inside and burning it with the cautery, so I am breathing -easier now, and it is wonderful how little I suffer; but I am too old a -hand not to know what's what: the bronchi are involved--_too far_, and, -as a matter of fact, there isn't any hope. Horsford is still fondly -hoping to add me to his successful-tracheotomy statistics; but I have -bet him not, and the consolation of my death will be the beating of a -specialist in his own line. - -"I have been arranging some of my affairs, and remembered these -note-books which I intended letting you have long ago; but you know my -habit of putting things off, and, moreover, the lady was alive from -whose mouth I took down the words. She is now dead, and, as a man of -books, you should be interested, if you can manage to read them. - -"I am under a little morphia at present, propped up in a nice little -state of languor, so I will give you in the old Pitman's something -about her. Her name was Miss Mary Wilson; she was about thirty when I -met her, forty-five when she died, and I knew her all those fifteen -years. Do you know anything of the philosophy of the hypnotic trance? -That was the relation between us--hypnotist and subject. She suffered -from _tic_ of the fifth nerve, had had all her teeth drawn before I knew -her, and an attempt had been made to wrench out the nerve by the -external scission. But it made no difference: all the clocks in -purgatory tick-tacked in that poor woman's jaw, and it was a mercy of -Providence that ever she came across me. - -"Well, you never knew anyone so weird in appearance as my friend, Miss -Wilson. Medicineman as I am, I could never see her without a shock, she -so suggested what we call 'the other world.' Her brow was lofty, her -lips thin, her complexion ashen, and she was execrably emaciated; her -eyes were of the hue of mist; at forty her wisp of hair was withered to -white. - -"She lived almost alone in old Marsham manor-house, five miles from Ash -Thomas, and I, just beginning in these parts at the time, soon took up -my residence at the manor, she insisting that I should give up myself to -her. - -"Well, I quickly found that in the state of trance Miss Wilson possessed -very queer powers--queer, I mean, not because peculiar to herself in -kind, but because so far-reaching in degree. Most people are now talking -with an air of discovery about the reporting powers of the mind in its -trance state, as though the fact had not been fully known to every old -crone since the Middle Ages; but the certainty that someone in a trance -in Manchester may tell what is going on in Glasgow was not, of course, -left to the discovery of an office in Fleet Street, and the psychical -people in establishing the fact for the public have not gone one step -towards explaining it. - -"But, speaking of poor Miss Wilson, I say that her powers were queer -because so special in quantity. I believe it to be a fact that, in -general, the powers of trance manifest themselves with respect to space, -as distinct from time: the spirit roams in _the present_, travels over a -plain, doesn't usually astonish one by huge ascents or descents. I fancy -that this is so. But Miss Wilson's gift was queer to this degree, that -she travelled in every direction, and easily in all but one, north and -south, up and down, in the past, the present, and the future. - -"This much I soon got to find out. She would give out a stream of sounds -in the trance state--I can hardly call it speech, so murmurous, yet -guttural, was the utterance, mixed with puffy breath-sounds at the lips, -this state being accompanied by contraction of the pupils, failure of -the knee-jerk, rigour, and a rapt expression, so I got into the habit of -tarrying for hours by her bedside, fascinated by her, trying to catch -the news of those musings which came mounting from her mouth; and in -the course of months my ear learned to make out the words: 'the veil was -rent' for me also, and I was able to follow somewhat the trips of her -straying spirit. - -"At the end of six months I heard her one day repeat some words which -were familiar to me. They were these: 'Such were the arts by which the -Romans extended their conquests, and attained the palm of victory; and -the concurring testimony of different authors enables us to describe -them with precision....' I was startled: they are part of Gibbon's -'Decline and Fall,' which I readily guessed that she had never read. - -"I said in a stern voice: 'Where are you?' - -"She replied: 'Us are in a room, eight hundred miles above. A man is -writing. Us are reading.' - -"I may tell you two things: first, that in trance she never spoke of -herself as '_I_' but, for some reason, as '_us_': '_us_ are,' she would -say, '_us_ will'; secondly, that when wandering in the past she -represented herself as being _above_ (the earth?), and higher the -farther back she went; in describing present events she appears to have -felt herself _on_ (the earth); while, as to the future, she always -declared that '_us_' were so many miles '_within_' (the earth). - -"To her excursions in this last direction, however, there seemed to -exist certain limits: I say seemed, for I can't be sure, and only mean -that she never, in fact, went far in this direction. Three, four -thousand 'miles' were common figures in her mouth in describing her -distance 'above'; but her distance 'within' never got beyond -sixty-three. She appeared, in relation to the future, to be like a diver -in the sea who, the deeper he dives, finds a more resistant pressure, -till at no great depth resistance grows to prohibition, and he can no -further dive. - -"I am afraid I can't go on, though I had a good deal to tell you about -this lady. During fifteen years, off and on, I sat listening by her -couch to her murmurs. At last my ear could catch the meaning of her -briefest breath. I heard the 'Decline and Fall' almost from beginning to -end. Some of her reports were the merest twaddle; over others I have -hung in a sweat of interest. About the fifth year it struck me that I -might just as well jot down some of her mouthings, and the note-book -marked 'I.' belongs to the seventh year. Its history is this: I heard -her one afternoon murmuring in the tone which she used when _reading_, -asked her where she was, and she replied: 'Us are forty-five miles -within: us read, and another writes'; from which I concluded that she -was some forty to sixty years in the future. I believe you may find it -curious, if you are able to read my notes. - -"But no more of Mary Wilson now, and a little of A. L. Browne, -F.R.C.P.!--with a breathing-tube in his trachea, and Eternity under his -bed now. Isn't that a curious beast, my dear boy, the thing you call a -'modern man'? Is he not? Here am I writing to you about Miss Mary Wilson -and her freights of froth, and all the time I know what this frame of -mine will be to-morrow night; I know and am not afraid. Am I a saint, -then? At least a hero? No, I am a modern man, a know-nothing. The Lord -have mercy upon my never-dying soul! _if_ my soul is never-dying, and -_if_ ... rather a mess. - -"Well, no more now. I know you will think of me sometimes. You will have -to, by the way, because I am making you one of my executors. 'A long -farewell!' ..." - -_Here begins the Note-book marked_ I." - - - - -CHAPTER I - -MY VISIT TO SWANDALE - - -I have been asked by the publishers who bring out this book to add yet a -mite to the mass of writing which has appeared in regard to the late -events, for how are the mighty fallen! and, as when an oak announces its -downfall through the forest, so here it was only natural that the little -fowl should fly and flap, with outcries (sometimes) of sharp shrillness! -Much, then, has been written and said; and if I now place my small word -with the books already sprung out of what we call "The Revival" and, -rather blatantly, the "Abolition of Christianity," my excuse lies in the -circumstance that during those storms I was much with Aubrey Langler, -and that, long before those events, I was probably his closest friend. - -I can, therefore, give details as to that gracious life and the strifes -in which he had a hand not very possible to another writer. - -It was my way to stay with Langler at least thrice a year. My crowded -town-life was a rude enough contrast with his eremite mood, so I rarely -failed to avail myself of his invitations. Of these he gave me one in -the August of the year of the Pope's visit, and shortly afterwards I -started for Alresford (Swandale lies five miles north-west of Alresford -by carriage-road). - -There happened to travel in the rail-train with me a remarkable man: -certainly, I think that I never beheld a larger human being, except in -an exhibition. We were alone in my carriage, and I was able to take note -of him. His vast jacket was of satin, and from every button ran two -cords of silk, ending in a barrel-shaped ornament of silk, such as used, -I believe, to be called "frogs"; his shirt was frilled and limp; and he -wore four or five rings. This was enough to prove him a foreigner, -though otherwise his dress was ordinary. He sat with his fat legs wide -apart, smiling at the world in the most good-humoured, yet sneering way, -showing some very long top teeth. - -All the time his hand travelled to and fro, fro and to, in a rub along -the tightly-clad length of his thigh. - -The man seemed most happy. From the manner in which his eyes, half hid -by their sleepy lids, hovered anon upon me, I could see that he was -longing to speak out some of his self-satisfaction; and after some short -time he did indeed speak, saying with a drowsy drawl through his -nostrils, exhibiting the sneer of his teeth, and speaking English -without a hint of foreignness: - -"The landscape is not displeasing to me. Oh no; it is not so bad. There -now, you see, that little farm: it is not so bad. But it is not -romantic--not _plantureux_. It would be strange to me if the English -were other than they are. The English are an exact expression of -England--their character, constitution, Church, everything. The cliffs -of Dover, now. Cćsar might have foretold their future from their mere -appearance as he approached them; a traveller might just look at them -from his ship, and go back home saying: 'I know the English'--if he be a -man of force and grasp and insight. Oh no; that is a little hyperbole -perhaps--my little tendency to hyperbole. But, I assure you, the -landscape does not displease me...." - -In this way he went on purring; did not stop; would not permit me to say -anything. His utterance was lazy, nasal; and ever and anon he pipped -from his lips, as he droned and rubbed his thigh, a dry pin-point of -nothing: this, one could see, was a habit of his being. I cannot now -recall a thousandth part of his talk, but I do recall that, as he droned -on and on from topic to topic, this thought roved through my brain: "But -what a head! what a fount of ideas!" - -The man made upon me an impression of great grossness, perhaps from his -big bulk, or his manner of ironing his thigh, or his ejection of -nothings, or that wallowing in his own self-satisfaction. Round his chin -and cheeks ran a bandage of iron-grey beard; his hair was scanty, and -bald at the temples, where his forehead ran up into two gulfs of bare -skin, so that the skimpy region of hair on his great head resembled a -jacket much too small for the person who wears it. - -A few minutes before our arrival at Alresford something led him to tell -me that he was about to join the house-party of the Prime Minister at -Goodford. His servants, I soon saw, were in the carriage next to ours, -for as the train drew up a valet ran out to help his master to alight, -but his master coolly made use of _my_ shoulder to help himself out as -he limped heavily to the platform, and did it with such an air of -patronage and old friendship, that, for the life of me, I couldn't help -feeling flattered. - -I suppose that to be caressed by a force is always pleasant--the purring -of a petted cat!--and I understood that the Baron Gregor Kolár was a -force. - -For now I knew his already well-known name, inasmuch as, after turning -away from me on the platform, he turned again, fumbled fretfully for his -card, and gave it me. I gave him mine. Then, with a bow-legged rolling -of gait which bowled his head aside at each stride, he strolled to the -brougham awaiting him. - -His brougham and mine ran along the same road for some -distance--Goodford, his bourne, being only five miles from -Swandale--till we parted at a meeting of roads, and he passed from my -mind for a season. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE WREN - - -As I went on towards Swandale the thought suddenly struck me that my -driver's back was strange to me. I bent forward, and asked him what, -then, had become of Robinson. - -"I wish I could tell you, sir," was his answer, "but seemingly that's -just what nobody knows." - -"What do you mean?" I asked. - -"Robinson has been missing for three days, sir," he said--"since -Thursday noon, high or low, no one can find him: and cut up is what Mr -and Miss Langler are about it." - -This Robinson, a very handsome man, well under forty years, was a part -of Swandale, and long known to me; but now the carriage rolled over -broken stones, and I asked no more. Soon thereafter we passed into the -gorge which runs into Swandale. - -The fame of this vale is at present pretty far-spread, yet of the -"pen-pictures" which have appeared of it I know of none which portrays -half its witchery. The piling up of details is, in fact, fruitless, for -not the pen, but the brush, is fashioned to paint. I may repeat, -however, that the vale is an oval, the gorge being at the south-east, -in which already the ear is caught by that sound of waters whose chant -pervades the vale (the whole is not more than twelve hundred yards long -and eight hundred wide), and one goes on through an air of perfumes to a -giant portal, till, in contrast with the wildness of the approach, -Swandale itself dawns upon the eye in all its rusticity--a rusticity -attained by the touchiest art, for I think that throughout the dale -there was not at that time a coo or a drain not due to the care of its -designer. Langler had, in fact, given many years and the mass of his -fortune to the making of this garden. - -The house is not precisely in the centre of the oval, but towards the -north-west, on an islet in the lake, the lake itself being an oval, and -it is strange that waters so shaken can show so staringly every pebble -and grayling in their deeps: _shaken_, for the ground north of the house -mounts in terrace on terrace to the hills, and down these, all rowdy -with laughter, darts a rout of waters which wash into the lake. On the -wooden bridge looking east over the lake Langler and his sister stood -awaiting me. - -Langler was now a man of forty, with some silver in his hair, and Miss -Emily at this time twenty-seven. - -They formed something of a contrast, she was so much darker than he, for -Langler had light, wavy hair, parted in the middle over the broadest -brow, a brow parcelled up into lax fields by the furrows of "much -learning." He wore no hair on the face, save side-whiskers down the -longish hollow of his cheeks, cheeks which looked no wider than the -breadth of his broad chin: a massive countryman's-face, yet with -something wistful and ill-fated about the eyes and the thick lips, which -ever bore a sad smile. His "bone-in-the-throat" drew the eye by its -prominence! He always impressed one as being better groomed than other -men, I never could tell why, since he was ever quite plainly dressed, -but in the very pink of correctness somehow. - -However, in a certain--shall I say cynicalness?--of look there was -resemblance between the two--or, say, criticalness, scepticism: both had -a trick of screwing up at the cheek-bones a little and piercing into -anything new or curious that was in question. - -It is commonly known now that both were beings of uncommon endowment, -and so kin and kind were they, that they appeared to live, as it were, a -twin life. - -When we went into the cottage I found waiting to welcome me several men -and women servants--a small crowd of much more than ordinary comeliness. -Langler said then to me: "have you heard about my poor friend?" - -It was nothing new for him to speak so of his servant, so I knew that he -referred to Robinson, and replied: "I have heard something. Can't you -form any idea what has become of him?" - -"No idea so far," he answered; "I am giving my mind to it." - -"He should be found, then," I said; at which Langler smiled. - -Miss Emily was rather behind us in the passage, and at that moment I -heard her say: "Aubrey, here is John running after us with something." - -I turned, and saw this John pelting up the boards embedded in the soil -which served as steps from the bridge to the cottage. He held a spade in -the left hand and some object on the right palm; Langler turned to him; -and at once I saw that the thing on the man's palm lived, fluttered a -wing, was a bird. - -"What!" said Langler, "a wren?" - -"Why, it is ill," said Miss Emily. - -"I found it caught in the vine tendrils, miss," said John. - -Everybody bent over it. - -"I have never seen it before," said Langler. - -"No, it is certainly a stranger," said Miss Emily, "and what _can_ that -be round its leg?" - -She was rather palish. - -The thing round the leg was a piece of paper, wound with worsted. - -And Langler, peering at it, said: "stay, _I_ will undertake the cure of -this wanderer." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE STYRIAN - - -Swandale cottage is very large, covering more than half of the island, -but mostly one-storeyed, the roofs being of thatch made heavy with -rocks, and the walls of marble kept snow-white by means of snakestone; -but not much of the walls is visible, for the eaves of the roof droop so -low that parts of them have had to be removed over the doors; and as -most of the timber about the cottage is huge, the twilight within broods -at noon. At the time of which I write candles burned in most of the -rooms throughout the day in an atmosphere smoky with incense; for all -within was a feeling of the ecclesiastical, everywhere the Church, -monasticism, the vestment, the ritual, the Middle Ages, the mood of the -altar. - -I spent most of the day after my arrival--a Sunday--with Langler in his -study, which was in a corner of the cottage, and looked like a great -garret or barn with its black beams, its floor of black and red stone, -its arras and bookshelves; the ottoman, fixed into a nook under a Christ -in hone-stone, was covered with embroideries of the Armenian Church; -three diamond-paned windows looked out upon some flower-beds and lawn -and upon a slip of the lake seen through oak and poplar; on the desk -stood a pyx-and-cross, with two candelabra of plain old gold, whose six -candles more or less cancelled the gloom. - -At breakfast I had asked him how the wren was faring, his answer had -been evasive, but in the study he referred himself to it, saying, "you -asked about the wren at breakfast, by which I understood you to ask -about the paper round its leg. Now, I have been examining this paper, it -bears some written words, and as they are unpleasant I didn't wish to -speak of it before Emily. However, I will show it now to you." - -He opened the pyx, took out a little curl of paper, and spread it on the -desk. It was uneven at the edges, had been much begrimed, but with a -magnifying-glass I contrived to read these words in the tiniest writing: - -"Ich, der Pater Max Dees, bin ein ... ner im Sc ... des Barons -Gregor ... _Um Gottes Willen_"; or: "I, Father Max Dees, am a ... 'ner' -in the 'Sc' ... of Baron Gregor.... _For God's sake._" - -"Notice the material of writing," said Langler. - -"Not red ink?" - -"No, blood. And the instrument of writing----" - -"Not a pen?" - -"No, a pin, as you see from the downstrokes." - -"But have you been able to fill in the blanks in the sentence?" - -"In two at least of the three instances: for if a man writes with a pin -and with blood he is certainly somehow a prisoner, and that seems to -suggest the word ending in 'ner', namely, Gefangener. And, having that, -we know the word beginning with 'Sc': for he could hardly be a prisoner -in anything beginning with 'Sc' except a Schloss. So that we get that -Father Max Dees is a prisoner in the castle of Baron Gregor Something; -and he begs us _for God's sake_ to do something: very likely he was -interrupted in the act of writing it." - -"But how on earth, I wonder, did he trap the wren in his prison?" I -said. - -"People in such situations do become ingenious," Langler answered. - -"But will you take any steps in the matter?" - -"Well, I suppose one must, for mercy's sake," he answered: "but what -steps?" - -"The first thing," I said, "is to locate our priest: that is, to find -out the full name of our Baron Gregor; but that is precisely what may be -difficult." - -"No; I think not," he answered; "you haven't looked at the thread with -which the paper was tied round the wren's leg: just look now, though I -doubt if it will give you any information, but Emily or John would know -at once." - -After examining the thread under the glass I said No. - -"Well," he said, "over yonder among my flock are three goats, -half-domesticated Styrian hill-goats, whose greyish undergrowth of -mohair is woven undyed for underclothing in Upper Styrian villages, and, -in spite of its long exposure, I feel sure that the fibre you are -looking at is Styrian hill-goat wool, and a thread ravelled from some -garment or other woven in Styria." - -"So that Father Max Dees probably is in some Styrian castle?" - -"So it would seem, and we shall know which Styrian castle as soon as we -run our eyes down some list of Styrian barons--unless there are two or -more Gregors among them. At any rate, we shall have some information, -and can then take some step to rid our backs of the burden of the -matter. But where to find a list of Styrian barons?" - -I answered that I didn't know, but that there would be no difficulty -about that. "But a Styrian wren!" I said. "How comes it in England in -August--or at any time?" - -"We shall have to get Emily to coach you in some of the more glaring -facts of country-life," Langler said, with a nod. "Don't you know, -really, that many wrens are winter birds? And as to the migratory ones, -surely you know that hardly any kind of bird is reliable in its -migrations. I once knew a cuckoo--but I won't talk Greek to a Scythian. -They drift into strange tribes, you know, at the home-coming; they even -change their nationality for a summer or for a lifetime. That bit of -paper, remember, has been wafted at least twelve months on the wings of -the wind, and mauled in the forests of midmost old Lybia, so that our -prisoner may be already free--or dead. In any case, it seems an odd -little trait of chance that the thing should come here--to me." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE RITUAL, THE STREET CORNER, THE DEATH-BED, AND THE BELLS - - -Towards evening of the same day I was sitting with Langler in a little -dingle not far from the water, while down by the water's edge idled Miss -Emily, feeding swans. I did not think that she was listening to our -talk, or might divine it; but her lightness of ear was always very -decided. - -I had been telling Langler of the spectacle at Canterbury during Holy -Week of that year. For the first time, I believe, since 1870 a Bishop of -Rome had been permitted to leave the Vatican, and to pledge, as it were, -the return of a prodigal, had pontificated High Mass in the metropolitan -cathedral of England. - -At that ritual I had been present, and Langler had been questioning me -as to the conditions under which Tenebrć had been sung on the Wednesday -night, and as to certain minutić of the vestments worn by the orders -during the liturgical drama of the Thursday. The rite was fresh in my -memory, and he listened, I could see, keenly, as I went on to tell of -the conveyance of the Pontiff from the dean's house; of the trumpets of -the Noble Guard; of the reception of his Holiness by a procession of -clergy, headed by the Bishop of Emmaus; of the last sound of the bell -during the Gloria, and the clapper of the Sanctus and Canon; of the -consecration of the holy oils, vase, oil-sticks, and chrism; of the -twelve trumpets during Elevation; of the Communion, of which twelve -bishops partook; of the conveyance of the wafer to an Altar of Repose; -then of Vespers; of the antiphon "Diviserunt"; of "Deus, Deus meus" -during the stripping of the altar; and of the ceremony of the night--the -cope of violet, the washing and the wiping and the kissing of the right -feet of the thirteen.... - -And as I spoke Miss Emily spun round from over her swans, and flung at -us across the distance the words: "thus have they crucified to -themselves afresh the son of man, and put him to an open shame." - -"Ah? Is that so?" asked Langler, with his smile. - -"Happily," I said, "nobody any longer cares, Emily." - -"Unhappily," sighed Langler. - -And, like an echo, there came from Miss Emily, who had not heard him: -"unhappily!" - -"But observe," I said, "that this whole Canterbury gaudery remains -illegal, for I have yet to hear that the Act of Uniformity has been -repealed. Wouldn't the civil power be competent, if it chose, to take -action against someone?" - -"I think so," replied Langler, "if the civil power were not far too -deeply indifferent to what takes place in Canterbury to rake up against -it old laws which have become academic. Even thirty, twenty years ago -what a howl of 'popery!' Now--nothing...." - -"Yet," I said, "I can't think that indifference was quite the feeling of -the nation with regard to the Pope's visit; on the contrary, people -seemed interested and pleased. With our much of numbness about the -Church is there not, really, mixed a sort of interest?" - -"In one class," replied Langler--"in the class which has acquired a -liking for charming rites and vestments in good taste. Hence the -corporate reunion that has been growing up since the last century, till -now it culminates, for the English Church got to see that it must more -and more imitate its great old Mother and her graces if it was to retain -any of the interest of the nation. It has, in fact, by this imitation -retained _some_ of the interest of one class, but we know that it is -none of it a religious interest, but an ćsthetic one; and as to the -lower classes, no sort of interest has survived. In other words, while -the dogmas of the Church have become mawkish to all, her dear -altar-cloths and subcingula have continued pleasing to some--to you and -me, for example." - -"But the end!" I said. - -"Ah, the end," he sighed, and we were silent for a while till he added: -"ah, but talking of all that, I have not told you, have I, of our new -rector? You shall hear! He is a man with a tragedy in his future, a -brilliance in his past, and, to my mind, much lovableness in his -present--though _you_ may not say so. His name is Burton--a Harrow and -King's College man, the son of a successful undertaker of Belfast. He -became a Bell Scholar and Browne's Medallist before he was twenty-one, -and was Senior Classic and Senior Chancellor's Medallist very shortly -after. Later on he was appointed lecturer, and got a tutorship. I don't -know what he did for some years, but I am told that he was offered the -headmastership of Ardingly, which he refused: he said, mark you, that he -wished to devote himself to _pastoral work_! Think of that for a modern -person of that sort! Then the Prime Minister, hearing of his parts, -offered him Ritching, which, you know, is in his gift, and at Ritching -Burton now is, so you will not fail to come across him somewhere soon. -But it is my belief that, if ever Edwards regretted a thing, it is this -of grafting Burton under his nose here into Ritching. He has caught a -Tartar in Burton, I can tell you. Burton _believes_! He is the last of -the, let us say the--Barons. And he has quite the tone of the old-world -type of priest and arch-priest--more lofty than Lucifer himself, in his -quality of churchman, you understand, though underneath I believe him to -be a dear, humble fellow. The living is worth three hundred pounds, and -of that let us say thirty pounds is spent upon Dr Burton. The rest goes -in needless 'works' among his flock--really his _flock_ I mean, for -Burton's intellect still divides the world into Church and Sheep: he -actually says 'sheep.' He breaks his fast at noon, in Advent and Lent -not till five, and I hear of hair-cloths, and of midnight risings to -recite the breviary office. Add to what I have said that the sermons -which he preaches weekly to empty pews are undoubtedly the most -brilliant, impassioned, inspired now anywhere uttered in the English -tongue--I have been to hear two of them, and you may believe me--and you -get a figure rather incongruously ranged with regard to his age. He, by -the way, bans me even more than I love him, pronouncing at my shadow a -'Retro, Satanas.' He knows that I am hardly quite 'of the light,' and my -love of the Church is an added fault in his eyes. However, to his -smitings I find no difficulty in turning always my other cheek. On the -whole, I assure you, the world will hear of Dr Burton, or Dr Burton will -break himself up against the world----But who is this?" - -It was one of the gardeners, named John, who came to say that someone -had run over from Ritching with the tidings that Mrs Robinson, the -mother of the vanished Robinson, was dying. - -At this Miss Emily hurried up from the water, rushing into pinks and -whites, calling: "what, Mrs Robinson! not dying?... Oh, my forgetful -head! I intended the first thing this morning.... It is grief and -solitude that is killing the poor woman. Aubrey, I must go now to her." - -"Well, and I too," said Langler; and to me: "Would you care to come?" - -We hurried to the house, and soon set out--Langler with his broad hat -and thorn stick, Miss Emily with a basket, and old Bruno (a mastiff) at -our heels. - -We wound the north way out of Swandale by a path where we had to walk in -single file through aftermath, Langler going first, Miss Emily behind, -and as I in the middle reached my hand backward to relieve her of the -basket my fingers happened to meet her palm, Langler then talking about -Robinson, though at the time I hardly heeded him; he said, however: "if -ever midnight darkened with sudden disaster upon the life of any man, -surely it was upon this poor fellow. He was an easy, good chap, this -Robinson. You knew him, Arthur. What a beauty of mild, large eye was -his, and dark-curling beard! Do you know, I often seemed to realise in -him my notion of the face of Jesus; certainly, he wasn't unlike the -later French conception of the Saviour. As to his disappearance, nothing -can be queerer. He left Swandale at noon on Thursday to walk to -Ritching, in order, they say, to bespeak Lang, the blacksmith. Now, a -little on this north side of Swandale there lay in a spinney a -ne'er-do-weel named Notter; Notter saw Robinson, but Robinson did not -see Notter: and what, according to Notter, was Robinson doing as he went -by?--looking up into the air, whistling! So that we may say that -Robinson was not then running away--had, in fact, no perverse purpose of -any kind in his mind. Yet Ritching is less than three miles from -Swandale! And he never entered Ritching! that we know. In that interval, -then, the poor fellow was whiffed from the ways of men by some injurious -magic: and the place which knew him knows him no more." - -"And as to the police?" I said. - -"No doubt they are at work," he answered; "but in a matter of just this -kind I believe you will find that nothing but a species of inspired -divining, hardly common in the _bureaux_, will accomplish much." - -"Aubrey, there were three strangers in Ritching during the week," called -Miss Emily from behind. - -"Ah? Is that so?" said Langler. "I didn't know." - -"Jane heard it in Ritching last night, and told me." - -"Friends?" asked Langler. - -"No, apparently; they were people taking holiday. They put up for -several days at the Calf's Head. Two were foreigners." - -We were now at a gate between two great masses of rock, and passed -through it to the path over which poor Robinson had lately gone to his -fate. Hence to the dale in which Ritching moons the way is mostly -downhill, and we were soon entering the south end of the old townlet. - -At that south end of the street stood a group of people singing--a squad -of three Salvationists, from Alresford perhaps, and with them a few of -the villagers--singing as we drew near, with a certain rollicking swing, -and I well recall the lilt and the words: - - "At the Cross, at the Cross, where I first saw the light, - And the burden of my heart rolled away, - It was there by faith I received my sight, - And now I am happy all the day." - -Twice they encored this chorus, some laughing as they sang, others -standing silent, with dimples of amusement on that side of the lips -where the pipe was not. When this was chanted out sprang a captain, and, -himself smiling, began to cry aloud: "Well, friends, you may laugh, -but--but----" He got no further, for just then down the path ran -bounding a rat, a terrier, a lot of men and boys; I had to draw Miss -Emily aside, as, rushing by, they pelted among the Salvationists, who, -in their turn, scattered, and joined the chase. Only the captain and his -two mates were left. - -I caught the captain's words: "well, here's a rum go, mates." - -We, for our part, went on our way, I smiling, but on the face of either -of my friends not a smile. I could not help saying: "modern -Christianity in the modern village does not thrive"; but at once I was -sorry for having said anything, for neither the one nor the other -answered me. - -Only after some time Langler said: "still, the martyrs, dying for it, -lifted up their eyes, and saw heaven open. But now, you see, it has come -to this." I heard him murmur to himself: "_And now I am happy all the -day_...." - -Miss Emily, who had hurried on a little ahead, now vanished into a -cottage into which Langler and I presently followed her. On our entrance -she had just passed through into an inner room, and we heard someone in -there going "_Sh-h-h!_" to her in an angry fashion. - -We, too, after a little moved into that inner room. There the mother of -Robinson lay dying, and it was there that I first laid eyes on Dr -Burton. - -He was standing, with a stole on, at the further side of the bed, and a -murmur of rapid words was coming from him. - -At the near bedside were two of the villagers, with a lay sister from -the Poor Clares at Up Hatherley, and Miss Emily; the little place was -very dingy, but Dr Burton's face was towards us as we entered: I saw -Langler bow austerely, but the Doctor looked through him with a vacant -gaze. - -The appearance of Dr Burton was impressive: his waistband circumferenced -a hemisphere of paunch, so that the hem of his frock stuck well out in -front of his toes, and he was also thick about the shoulders, chest, and -throat; his brow, invaded all round by close-cropped hair, had a scowl, -and his mouth a pout; his complexion was of a red brown. I heard him -mutter: "by this holy unction, and through His great mercy, Almighty God -forgive thee whatever thou hast sinned by sight...." And his right thumb -anointed the eyelids of the dying with oil. - -And again he ran on in a rapid recitative: "by this holy unction, and -through His great mercy, Almighty God forgive thee whatever thou hast -sinned by hearing...." And his right thumb smeared the ear of the dying -with oil. - -I saw Miss Emily bridle a little. In Dr Burton's left hand was an old -Sarum liturgical book in pigskin, and on he droned: "by this holy -unction, and through His great mercy, Almighty God forgive thee whatever -thou hast sinned by smelling...." And his thumb noted the nose of the -poor old woman with oil. - -Except this cantering mutter and a death-ruckle on the bed all was still -in the darkling room. Miss Emily stood at the head, parted from Dr -Burton by the breadth of the bed, I with her. And once more the drone -was droning: "by this holy unction, and through His great mercy, -Almighty God forgive thee----" - -But now there was an interruption: the little old woman for some half -minute had been making some effort--to speak or to move--and now she -lifted her head, opened her eyes, and whispered something to Miss Emily. -Her words, as I afterwards learned, were: "ah, Miss Emily, tell him to -stop ... dear, good soul he is ... my poor son...." - -Her head fell back upon the pillow. It was clear that her strength had -already been well tried before our entrance, for on a table near the bed -were the bell, light, and cross of the Blessed Sacrament, with the pyx -wrapped in linen. But at the interruption Dr Burton stopped; his face -darkened, and forth went his arm, pointing to the door. - -"All leave the room," cried he with a gruff brogue. - -I saw Miss Emily's face go rosy, while Langler's eyes dwelt upon the -Doctor, and he asked, with a smile: "but why so, Dr Burton?" - -"Do it, sir!" cried the doctor in a startling manner; whereupon for -perhaps thirty seconds it lasted, the doctor pointing, Langler smiling, -till Langler turned, and said "come" to Miss Emily and to me. - -We went out, the two villagers following us, leaving the doctor and the -Franciscan alone with the dying woman. But in the outer room Miss Emily -sat on a chair, saying: "I mean to wait here till Dr Burton chooses to -go away. Send John to me, and don't expect me home until all is over." - -"Well, then," said Langler; and he and I started off to go back to -Swandale, night now falling as we passed through Ritching and thence on -up the rising land towards Swandale, and half way up we halted, and -turned together, surveying the scene of the valley, veiled now in the -hazes of the Sabbath evening: Ritching church-spire could be seen -standing out of a garland of wood; so could a part of Goodford village -far in the north-west, and there, too, just vanishing out of sight, a -church-spire; and presently there was wafted up to us from the valley a -charming noise--church-bells chiming for Benediction of the Blessed -Sacrament. Langler said then to me in a low voice: "Arthur, to me it is -very touching, such a scene; that Goodford church always reminds me of -Bemerton, where George Herbert walked and talked with his Lord, and on -the whole, what a language do they speak, those spires, those bells, how -noble an expression of men's noblest thoughts of this world through -twenty ages! One knows that for the new phasis of the world the old -expression will not do; but for myself, though I tolerate the sun, give -me Iris and the Götterdämmerung. Certainly, she was rather lovely, this -old church of the Nazarene, with a loveliness that was so useful, too, -to lure and lever the world. Who could have foretold that just in sorrow -would have been born such a charm, that the moan alone of a saint could -more ravish the sense than the rose of Sharon? And through such a roll -of generations, Arthur! The beauty that could so long baffle the law -'they all shall change,' what a charm of life must have informed her! If -we who now see her mouthing her mumblings in her extreme age, garishly -rouged and dizened with trumperies, can still by an effort live again in -her youth, how vital a youth must that have been! But that extreme age -is really here apparently. Surely the rouge cracks now, and beneath -peers the very saffron of death and putrescence imminent. Look where you -like, from the event at Canterbury to our 'now I am happy all the day,' -and do not the signs bode the passing-bell and the sexton? Judging only -from our experiences of to-day, may we not say with some assurance that -we now listen to those chimes for about the last time?" - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE TRAIL - - -Langler, let me repeat here, was a man of some luck in prophecy; and -though those bells of Ritching, which he said that we then listened to -for about "the last time," were about to clash over Europe carillons of -summons, shaking the hearts of men, yet even here, it will be said, he -was not quite at fault: for death more often than not is forerun by this -very kind of flickering: slow decay, then a rage and show of life, then -the end and darkness--that appears to be the way. - -On the Monday morning after our visit to Ritching, as I entered the -breakfast-room a few minutes early, there at a casement stood Miss -Emily, and I see her once more as she was then, as fresh as the morning, -or as the twines of roses that climbed within the small marble casement. -Like her brother, she was not tall, but her figure was highly spirited, -with a quite French outpush of bust, reminding one always of -Gainsborough's "Duchess." - -We two were speaking together in low voices when I heard the steps of -Langler coming. I may say that I had been begging her for a rose, but -she had not given it me. I had prayed, and she was saying, "but I -thought that 'blue is the hue for folk who hope,'" when I heard the -steps of Langler, and whispered her, "then some forget-me-nots." - -The room was gaily feted out with flowers, and she glanced round to find -what I had asked for; but there were none, and she was saying, "there -are none; it is rather late--" when Langler walked in. I was angry with -fate, for it was an anniversary date with her and me; and _jealous_, for -into _his_ jacket she pinned a rosebud. - -On sitting to table she said to her brother: "Aubrey, Mrs Edwards wants -you and me to go over to Goodford. I have just answered that we have a -guest, and, of course, she will ask us to bring him too." - -"Would you care?" Langler asked me: "they are crude but worthy folk, as -you know, and their guests are often well chosen." - -I said that I should be glad to go. - -"But as to Mrs Robinson?" asked Langler of his sister. - -"She died just before nine," answered Miss Emily. "I came home with John -after eleven, so wouldn't disturb you, as I had made all the -arrangements. Dr Burton went away at seven, came back after Compline, -frowned excommunications at me, sprinkled the body, said a prayer from -the Alexandrine Liturgy of St Basil, and groaned 'poor sheep!' with the -very tenderness of the Good Shepherd. I should revere that man, if I -didn't despise him." - -"Ah? is that so?" asked Langler, with his smile. - -We spoke through breakfast of Mrs Robinson and her missing son, of the -Prime Minister's guests at Goodford, of our probable visit to him, and -again of the missing man. - -"Do you know," said Miss Emily in her dry way, hardly meaning, I think, -to be taken seriously, "I have my theory of Robinson? Given a village -like Ritching, where nothing odd ever happens, when two odd things -happen in it those two will be related. Is that a fair statement of a -law of probability?" - -"Excellent, I think," I answered. - -Langler did not answer, but was listening, one could see, attentively. - -"Then," said Miss Emily, "I say that three tourists at the Calf's Head -is one thing, and Robinson's disappearance is another thing; and my -theory is that these strangers have kidnapped Robinson." - -"But with what motive?" asked Langler, glancing sharply at her. - -"Because," she answered, while the nerves of her face screwed up into a -little energy of shrewdness--"because he was beautiful." - -We were silent at this, till Langler remarked: "ah, there you are hardly -convincing." - -"I suppose not," she replied. "But what other reason? There was nothing -special about Robinson except that one thing, his beauty, and that is -how I feel. Find out some reason why one English and two foreign -tourists should need to kill or capture a specially handsome man and you -solve the mystery of Robinson." - -Langler answered nothing more, and we spoke of other matters. He -afterwards said that he would be absent during most of the day, and, as -some letter-writing kept me from going with him, I saw him ride down the -course of the brook and vanish behind the arches of the abbey. - -He returned before dinner, and some hours later, when the house was -asleep, we two were down by the lake's brim, the night murky and -autumnal, but we could just see some moor-hen or wild-fowl briskly -breast the waters, like boats in a choppy channel, moored, yet seeming -to move forward, as when the moon is flying through cloud. - -I asked Langler if he had been able to do anything for the captive, -Father Max Dees; he puffed at his pipe several times before replying, -and then said: "Father Max Dees is becoming _too_ interesting, -Arthur--so much so that he threatens to overwhelm my interest in all -life outside himself. How if I tell you that this man, so remote from me -and mine, speaking with me from afar by a bird, now seems connected in -some way with the disappearance of Robinson?" - -"It sounds queer," I said. - -"Yet it is true; and, since true, mark the luck of Emily in this matter. -She said that the mere singularity of two such things as the strangers -and the disappearance of Robinson was sufficient to make her think those -things connected. Well, the singularity is not sufficient, she was not -convincing: but we know that her guesses are of a quality not very -common, and it will be some time, I promise, before I again permit -myself to slight one of them." - -"You have discovered, then, that she was right?" - -"Not directly," he answered; "but I believe so by one of those -processes of the mind which, if they be not reason, resemble it. You -will understand me when I remind you of a _third_ event among us about -that time--the wren, namely, and its message. Now, by Emily's guess all -the three should be interconnected; and if I tell you that two of them -are, in fact, connected, I think you will jump to the conclusion that -all are so." - -"But which two are connected?" I asked. - -"The wren and the strangers." - -"Tell me." - -"I rode out to-day with the object of making some inquiries about these -strangers, and also of finding somewhere a list of Styrian barons. Well, -then, I went first to the Calf's Head, and what I gathered there was -this: that the strangers are now gone; that they were 'certainly' -unknown to one another; and that at the hour when Robinson vanished one -of the foreigners was sitting on the doorstep of the inn studying the -county-map, one was sipping beer in the bar-parlour, while the third, -the Englishman, was leaning against Lang's smithy-door: so that Brown, -the landlord, had all these men under his eyes on that Thursday noon -when poor Robinson was undergoing his mystery. However, I had no sooner -heard of this _tableau vivant_ than my own instinct of wrong, vague -before, started into liveliness, the word which stirred my anger being -Brown's 'certainly' in saying that the three were strangers to one -another. He said it because he had never seen them speak together. Yet -these men for days ate, smoked, etc., together, under which conditions -men do exchange a word; so what could have kept these apart, except a -wish to appear unacquainted?--a wish which argues that they were not so. -But their pose at the moment of the tragedy! Brown says that 'they were -like that most of the afternoon.' Imagine, therefore, the tale of sips -taken by one of them, the countless interest of the second in the -county-map, the resource in chat of the last at the smithy-door of -Lang--all under the benign, remarking eye of Brown. One can almost -assert that, if a wrong was then to their knowledge being accomplished, -it would be in just such poses of statuesque guilelessness that they -would parade themselves.... At all events, I left Brown with the -expectation of finding that other foreigners than these had been in our -midst on that mid-day of mystery. - -"I then rode over to Goodford, and was told that three weeks previously -two strangers had been there--one a foreigner. I went to Ayeling, Mins, -St Peter's, Up Hatherley--all within eight miles of Ritching--and -learned that the neighbourhood within the last months has been liable to -quite a little epidemic of 'strangers,' foreign and English, who did not -seem acquainted. I asked whether any of the strangers had been absent on -the noon of mystery. In every case I gathered that they had gone for -good before that day, or else on that day had remained conspicuously -present in the villages. - -"But at Mins a very odd accident brought into my way something of a -character so wild that my eyes almost could not credit it. You know, -Arthur, the unconsciousness of people when in a foreign land that anyone -in it can understand their speech: I had this fact in my mind when at -each of the villages I inquired whether the strangers had left behind no -leaves, no fragments of paper. I pried into waste-paper baskets, even -poked into dust-heaps, but could find nothing. However, I was leading -the horse from the door of the Crown at Mins towards the gate when I saw -a little stick, so to speak, of paper in the hedge. It had been crumpled -up to be used as a pipe-light perhaps--you know the habitual frugality -of foreigners as to matches--and was scorched at one end, smeared, too, -with soap and atoms of hair, so that someone had used it to wipe his -razor on. However, it had on it some German writing, still mostly -legible, and I got six almost perfect lines. These were the words which -I read: '... now--the 15th of June--I have been here three weeks, so I -know him well. _I am sure_ that he will do for England. He is another -Max Dees, as arrogant as he is brilliant, a union of Becket and -Savonarola. His name is Burton, and he is rector at a place called -Ritching. Your Excellency should find some way of coming down here, -for ...' and I can't tell you, Arthur, the queer feeling which chilled my -veins at the instant when, in an inn-yard of Mins, I chanced upon those -words: 'Max Dees.'" - -"It is very astonishing," I breathed. - -"But mark," continued Langler, "the point at which I had now arrived. I -had already decided that, if other strangers were about on the day of -Robinson's disappearance, then the three at Ritching were conscious of -what was going on, and that if the three were conscious, then all might -be concerned. But at least one of those concerned had that name of -Father Max Dees familiarly on his pen's point; and, looking at the bald -record of his captivity which Dees sent forth by the wren, we may -conclude that that captivity is unknown to his world--that, in fact he -vanished from his world more or less in the manner of Robinson; -whereupon one's mind no longer pauses, but, in lack of knowledge, says -at once: 'in each case the same agents, in each the same motive.' - -"But, given two disappearances, my divination went on to a surmise which -would never have been suggested to me by one only, and I asked myself, -'since there are more than one, may there not be more than two?' And -this question no sooner occurred to me than I spurred my horse, and -hurried to Alresford, where I have spent my afternoon. At the library I -obtained some volumes of the county papers, and though my search was, of -course, very hurried, I harked back nearly a year, and what I -half-expected I found. - -"Most dark, Arthur, is the path of some power which now, to-night, is at -work within this Europe of ours--a phantom of whose being and trend -one's fancy can form no dream, walking vast though invisible among us, -amorphous, yet most actual. And I do not speak of a probability. I am -pretty sure now that this is so, and Father Max Dees and Robinson, if -they live, are sure also. - -"One of the oddest things which I have noticed is the slumber of -understanding and of memory--especially of memory--with which we modern -people look through the newspapers. I have been reading to-day, with -dismay, details which I had undoubtedly read before, but at the first -reading must have dully cast out of my consciousness as devoid of -interest. May we not, then, define man as 'a dormouse who wakes during -earthquakes'? - -"The bits of news which I mean were mostly printed small, in obscure -corners, and the significance of their considerable number in the papers -which I perused is big when one considers that they are country papers, -not formal chronicles of world-news. If, then, you find in them mention -of two disappearances of fishermen within four months on the north -French coast, you may conceive that not two, but four, may have been the -actual number: men vanished; caught quite away like leaves on the -midnight wind; and one in the Harz Mountains; and one in London; and one -in Naples; and two in Hungary; and one in Belgium; and three in Russia; -and one in Catalonia; and one in Savoy----" - -"My good Aubrey!" I breathed. - -"Vanished, Arthur," he said--"gone into the gorge of that dragon. There -it stands printed, and all have read it, but none has seen it, so -unrelated seems each case in its isolated chronicle. I, however, have -been able to read with a larger eye; and as to the palace of torment of -at least one of the victims we are not in the dark." - -"Have you discovered, then," I said, "the full name of the Styrian baron -who has imprisoned Max Dees?" - -"Unfortunately," he answered, "there are no less than three Styrian -barons part of whose name is Gregor--one a Dirnbach, one a Strass, and -one a Kolár--possibly the well-known Kolár----" - -At that name an exclamation escaped me. - -"Well?" said Langler. - -"But have I said nothing at all to you since I have been here, about -Baron Gregor Kolár?" I asked. - -"I think not," he answered. - -"Then it is a singular chance," I said: "why, I came down with him in -the same carriage, I have his card in my pocket now. It never once -entered my head that he might be Styrian! He is over at Goodford at this -moment, a guest of Mr Edwards." - -"Well, then, that fact seems to narrow our round of inquiry to two," -said Langler: "our Gregor will doubtless now be found to be a Strass or -a Dirnbach." - -I made no answer, and we sat there some time silent, looking where some -moor-hen or wild-fowl breasted the streaming of a surface agitated by -the inrush of the cascade, stationary, yet seeming to move forward, like -the moon ranging through flights of cloud. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE MEETING - - -The next day we were at Goodford. The mansion is Queen Anne, square and -grave, standing on grounds which slope towards the exterior of the -domain into oak-dotted swards that droop down to a wooded valley. - -That first day at dinner I was able to point out to Langler the sneer of -Baron Kolár at the part of the table where he droned amid the silence of -his neighbours; and the next afternoon, when some men who had been -shooting were standing in a group on a terrace, Baron Kolár, who was -among them, left them to lower himself upon a bench close to that on -which Langler and I were sitting. - -It was just then that I heard someone in the standing group remark: -"here comes our eloquent divine." And I heard Mr Edwards, who had looked -round, say in his characteristic way: "what, he still on that same -temperance job, I wonder?" - -This remarkable man (who started life as a puddler's-boy in South Wales, -then became a typewriter in a London newspaper-office, then editor of a -boys' paper, then of a financial paper, then speculator and millionaire, -then--without eloquence, stateliness, "brilliance" of any sort--Prime -Minister of his country at the age of thirty-seven)--this remarkable -man, I say, gave by his mere manners and appearance some hint of the -reasons which underlay his elevation; he himself always accounted for it -by declaring that "he alone knew how to run the Empire on purely -business lines"; and, in truth, he looked like a man who could do this. - -His face at this period was still fresh and pink, and assuredly he did -not look older than a youth of four or five and twenty. His hair swept -from the parting across his forehead quite down to the right eyebrow; -and against this he waged an old war, ever dashing it back, but down it -came again. His eyes darted from side to side, and he appeared ever on -the point of pitching at something, and having it over and accomplished. -He was not large in stature, and by the side of big Mrs Edwards (who was -some ten years his senior) looked rather insignificant. It was suggested -by his walk that one of his legs was somewhat shorter than the other. - -He started out at once to meet Dr Burton, who came toiling up the -terraces swinging a copy of, I fancy, Paradisus Animć. I saw them shake -hands, and then lay their heads together, Edwards hearkening, Burton -talking. Their walk led them towards Langler and me. Edwards began half -to laugh, deprecatingly I thought; his shoulders shrugged; his arms -opened; Dr Burton's brogue swelled; he waxed wroth. - -The first words which I heard were these: "and are these poor sheep, -then, to be so lost and ruined, Mr Edwards? Always, always the body, and -never the soul? And is the protest of the Church no longer of avail with -the great ones of the earth, sir? I tell you, sir----!" - -Mr Edwards said: "but, Dr Burton, if you would only listen to common -reason! My good sir, what can _I_ do? If I were a parish councillor, -now--or a magistrate--but I am only a Prime Minister, after all." - -Edwards, by the way, was never averse from references to this fact, with -some mirth tacked on. But now he was interrupted by a deep, a bitter -word: the doctor looked ireful, and in the very voice of reproof he -said: "the matter is not one for jest, sir. I have laid this question -before the Bishop, before the Suffragan of Southampton, before the -Bishop of Guildford, the Dean, the Residential Canons; I have appealed -to the Licensing Magistrates; again and again I have appealed to you; I -have turned right, I have turned left: and everywhere I have fallen in -with evasions, with infidel shrugs, with dull delay. Now hear what _I_ -say as to this grievance: I say that I should not suffer it, no, I -should not bear it at all. I don't wish to see this new bugbear in my -parish: I will not see it: and if the heavens should rain for a -harvest-moon a rain of atheist archbishops and rebellious -ministers-of-State and blatant councils, all bound together to impose it -upon me, still I say I would not suffer it, no, I would not bear it at -all, at all, for God's sake I would not. In the spirit of the blessed St -Ambrose, with my own sacred hand I shall abolish it from my sight if it -confront me; and afterwards, but not before, will I give up the -government that I hold, not of men, but of God." - -And as this torrent ceased I just heard snuffled with a drawl near my -ear these words: - -"Oh, well, he is not so bad, though; he does it very well--very -well...." - -They came from Baron Kolár, who was gazing through sleepy lids at Dr -Burton with (it seemed to me) the fondness of a father contemplating the -feats of his boy in the presence of friends. - -As for Mr Edwards, I saw him fling his hand at Dr Burton's words. He was -a being who gave heed to one thing only--effective force. Pride, high -words were so far wide of his interest that they failed even to win a -smile from him; he heard them like wind, regarded only facts, results. - -"Well, Dr Burton," he said, "I am always glad to lend a helping hand to -a parson like yourself, interested in your work, go-a-head, and so on, -and so on; I am the same kind of man myself, and there's the -fellow-feeling, and so on, and so on. But I can do nothing in this -matter--candidly, it would be going too far out of my way; you must -approach the proper authorities, mentioning, of course, that you have my -sympathies, and so on, and so on----" - -Here I lost his words. Meantime the baron's eyes were dreamily following -the priest and the minister-of-State, while Langler's gaze was fastened -upon the baron's face, and I glanced from one to the other, seeking to -fathom how much was inherent in what I saw about me. - -Presently the Baron's eyes wandered round, as if looking for someone to -talk to, and when they lighted upon me quite close he droned in his -happy manner: "Well, he seems a worthy fellow, a nice fellow: a little -too zealous, like a torrid sun, but he's not so bad. Have you heard him -preach?" - -"Dr Burton? No. Have you?" - -"I went to hear him last Sunday. He does it very well--very well. You -should hear him." - -"Yes, I have been told...." - -"But you could not conceive; he does not do it badly. He is a man who -really is master of his business. He preaches with the progression of a -great river. He is destined to become the greatest priest in Europe...." - -"Ah? You think that?" - -"Wait, you will see. If a man is master of his business, and has -self-assertion to make the world cringe before his force, that is all -that is necessary. A man is either like leaven or like meal: he leavens -or is leavened. The chief thing about any animal is its amount of -available vigour. How much of Sun-fire has the man in him?--that is the -question. If he has only enough, he can wash the world in his flush, and -also if he is taught in what fashion to use it. But this Dr Burton, I -assure you, he is not a paltry man. I want you to present me--now." - -"I?" I said, taken rather aback, "I don't know him." - -But at once Langler said at my ear: "_I_ do." - -"Mr Langler, however," I added, "probably knows him." - -At this the baron said, half rising: "Ah, then----," and Langler stood -up quickly, saying: "with pleasure...." - -Dr Burton had now parted from Mr Edwards, and was passing close by us, -wrapped in gloom, his frock brabbling at every stalk with the breeze; so -Langler hurried out to get at him, and Baron Kolár goaded after Langler -his rolling gait. - -At this Dr Burton, as when a bull stops in its career to stare at some -new object, stood still, and at once Langler said graciously to him: "Dr -Burton, permit me to present to you my friend, Mr Templeton--his -Excellency Baron Kolár--Dr Burton." - -The moment which followed was full of misery: for one could not tell -what the doctor, still heated, would say or do. I was afraid that he -wouldn't shake hands! - -But the baron, with instant tact, spoke. "It was I," he said, "who asked -Mr Langler to present me to Dr Burton. I had the pleasure last Sunday of -being in the church at Ritching: that will explain." - -At some moments, when he ceased to show his teeth and measured one with -a stern up-and-down movement of the eyes, this man's face took on an -expression of power which could even become compelling; so he looked -now, eyeing Dr Burton, measuring him from head to toe, till Dr Burton -put out his hand, whereupon the baron pipped a nothing sideways, and -showed his teeth. - -"Ah, well," he said in his happy drawl, "it is not often now that one -can hear a sermon--not often. The pleasure comes from toillessly lolling -and watching the toil of another: but the toil of that other must be -real toil, and the toillessness of the hearer must be real also. I -confess that I have some fault to find with your pews, doctor: a pew -should never be a symbol of the narrow path that leadeth unto life. Oh, -but they are not so bad, though--not so bad. Still, I, now, in Styria, -have a church, and the pews are _fauteuils_. A man begins to cherish -these little boons when the hair is getting grey. Oh, yes. The later -Romans were the only race who truly understood the art of temple -service. The courts, too, where men like Cicero, Hortensius, and Pliny -thundered, were made luxurious. There must be the felt contrast between -another's toil and one's own comfortable indolence. Only, the toil must -be real toil. In the matter of books, now, the French have not done so -badly in that--not badly. The author thinks and works hard, yet manages -so that the reader need merely read, without thought or worry. That is -rather good, very nice. I, for example, am no longer a young man: an old -fellow gets to feel that people should see a little to his comforts. -Everything should be made easy and pleasant. The King of Korea, now: he -sits, I am told, through a certain ceremonial on a couch made, back and -seat, of four bags of brains. You know the derivation of the word -_assiduity_: to sit is to be a man; to sit much is to be civilised. But -that is a long tale. What I wanted to tell you was not to disturb -yourself about the detail which I heard you discussing with Mr Edwards. -I will take the affair upon my shoulders, and see to it that no -public-house is opened in your parish to offend your eyes." - -As the sense of these words possessed my ears I saw that the -astonishment of Dr Burton was as supreme as my own. Langler leant with -his well-straightened neck over his thorn-stick, smiling, the lax skin -of his forehead twitching a little. - -After some seconds Dr Burton said, looking at the baron as at some -strange being: "I am sorry, sir, but I am pressed for time. As you see, -I am a priest, and my harvest is great, and the labourers are few, so I -think you will understand that I have no time for loitering and -listening. As to your reference to the public-house, I confess that I do -not understand you at all." - -Baron Kolár was bestowing upon him a smile of sleepy fondness, and as -the doctor half turned to go, the baron's hand went out to the doctor's -arm. - -"Ah, well, you are busy, of course," he said: "well, it does not -displease me to see you so. A man's youth is his ancestry: the best -heirloom which he can inherit from it is a habit of industry. A young -man should work hard, not for the sake of what he can accomplish in his -youth, but because the impulse of his acquired energy will last him -through his course in a higher sphere. He buys the habit of strife and -empire, and that persists to the end. I am rejoiced to see you stressful -and _impressé_. Similarly, the youth of nations should be full of rages; -their age suave and luxurious. But with regard to the public-house, -now--do not harass yourself about such a nothing, since I answer for it -that the difficulty will vanish. I would speak to you, but you are so -busy. I will call upon you to talk it over. Tell me when, and I will -come, oh yes, I will come." - -I was certain that, as the baron stopped, Langler, standing now close by -Dr Burton, whispered some word at the doctor's ear. He afterwards told -me that the words were: "_you should say no_." - -But at his whisper Dr Burton turned upon him a look of surprise and some -resentment, and at once said to the baron: "I shall be at home to-morrow -evening at eight-thirty, sir, if that will please you." Whereupon he -bowed, and was off. - -"Oh, well, he's a nice fellow--a nice fellow," said the baron, summing -up the doctor. "In a high position he would be just the man whom the -Church needs to push her forward and make her aggressive. What is your -opinion of the Church in England?" - -His eyes rested upon Langler's face. - -"My opinion?" said Langler. - -"As to her lasting powers, now, I mean." - -"My outlook is vague enough," answered Langler: "I should say that -bishops, church-bells, sermons, and so on, will persist as we know them -in England for another thirty, forty years." - -"Ah, you think that. Well, well. I, now, should say a hundred, a hundred -and fifty years." - -"That is a long time," said Langler. - -"Not so long. I mean, you know, if nothing happens to annihilate her. It -is astonishing how old things will continue to hold on long after they -are quite dead and decayed. Look at old oaks and houses! A glass of -water will sometimes remain in the liquid state a long time below the -freezing-point; the least shake would make it shiver into a glass of -ice, but, lacking that, it remains liquid. Well, so with the Church. -Especially in a country like England, I give her another hundred and -fifty years." - -"You are quite possibly right," said Langler; "your opportunities for -observing may have been better than mine." - -"Oh, yes, I know old England very well--very well. I was once an -_attaché_ to the Embassy for three years; altogether, I have lived in -England eight to ten years. I know the old country very well--not badly. -Very nice it is, too--provided one brings one's own _chef_. The pride of -England is not her political potency, but her beef, for in no country in -the world is so exquisite a care bestowed upon the culture of cattle, -and if a quarter as much had been given to the culture of men, by this -time the Angles would, in truth, have been angels. Not that I have a -word to say against the culture of cattle. Perhaps after all man himself -is not of so much importance as what he eats. Beef is the half of life; -the other half is mutton. No, that is a little hyperbole perhaps--my -little tendency to neatness and epigram. It is astonishing how, as a man -gets older, he runs to seed in that way, for epigram is only an -instinctive device for concealing meagreness of thought. I, for example, -am no longer a young man. I begin to get fond of my little comforts. To -be candid with you, the cooking at Goodford does not altogether please -me, those partridges at dinner last night were not done enough--not -enough. Still, they were not so bad--a little underdone--and the wines -are very good--very good. But, talking of the Church, I assure you I -give her a hundred and fifty years--unless someone has a motive for -giving her a push, and then down she goes. Would _you_ care to see that -done?" - -His wandering eyes halted suddenly upon Langler's face. - -"I?" said Langler, "why should I?" - -"Oh, well, isn't there always the danger that a decayed old house may -tumble and crush one? If the thing is a groan and a danger it may as -well go, and be done." - -"But if it be quaint and gracious and historic," said Langler, "it may -as well stay, even at the cost of a prop or two. While it stands it -hurts no one: it is only its fall that may hurt." - -"Well, I see your point of view. You are right, too, in your own -fashion. But for myself, the Modern Spirit does not displease me; it is -very nice in its way--oh yes. Let us have it in its full noon, I say. -Whatever survival of the past stifles it should be quickly excised and -suppressed. And if in England the Church is only laughable, I assure you -that in other parts of Europe, where it is more mixed up with the life -of the people, it continues to be positively baleful. In Austria, for -example, one half of the teachers in the common schools are still -ecclesiastics! and though the people do not believe in the Church any -more than you do here, yet it influences them, it checks and hampers -them: they feel that they would like to be quit of it, yet do not quite -know how. And, apart from any harm which it does, it is astonishing how -many thousands of men might be found in Europe who, from mere motives of -vanity, merely to tell how they took a part in modifying the modern -world, would lend a willing hand to pulling down the old building. I -believe that that is so. But you, now, you see from a different -standpoint. Well, you are right, too, in your own fashion." - -To me it became clear that these two were pumping and sounding each -other with some not very evident motive on either side, Langler striking -his stick into the turf as he walked, looking downward; the baron -looking downward also, at Langler's face. - -Langler said: "I cannot be made a convert, Baron Kolár. Shells, you -know, are sometimes quite charming things, and for this shell which -remains of the Church, I personally should, under certain conceivable -conditions, be even prepared to give my life: such is the whim of my -mind. But now you will excuse me--Arthur, you will excuse me: I have -some letters.... But stay; I have to ask you a question, baron." - -He had stood still; we all stood still, and Langler and the baron faced -each other. - -"Well, then," said the baron gravely, eyeing Langler up and down. - -Langler, I must say, was paler than usual. He said: "I have lately had -reason to run my eyes down a list of the Styrian nobility, baron, and -find that three several Styrian barons have the name of 'Gregor'--you -being one. Are you acquainted with the other two?" - -"Well, yes," was the answer: "one is a Strass, the other a Dirnbach; -easy, good fellows they are. Our Styrian nobility is not what it was; -no, the nobilities will soon have to go too. Fortunate thing, they will -last through my time. Look at Mr Edwards, now--nice fellow, powerful -fellow. It is fellows like him, with fresh, vulgar energies and -elementary insights, whom the world needs to guide it now. Oh no, the -nobilities must go, too. Do you know----?" - -But Langler cut short that drawl. He said: "Well, one of these two -Barons Gregor unlawfully has in his castle a prisoner, one -Father--Max--Dees----" - -He spoke pointedly, his eyes fixed on Baron Kolár's face; and on his -face dwelt the Gorgon eyes of the Styrian. - -Some time went by in what was to me a distressing silence, till the -baron pipped a nothing sideways--a movement, to me, of relief, as it -were setting me free to breathe again, for I felt that Langler had dared -to cross a definite Rubicon. - -"What about him?" said the baron, a new something in his voice. - -Undaunted, though gauntly, leaning over his stick, Langler went on. - -"It is my intention," he said, "to expose and punish this particular -Styrian baron as soon as ever I discover his identity; and I speak of -him to you in order to see if you can give me any hint as to which of -the two is the guilty one." - -The baron's look had lost its rigour now; his lips unwreathed from his -teeth in a smile. - -"It is that fellow Strass, you may be sure," he said; "or it may be -Dirnbach, it may be, there is no telling. The nobilities are no longer -what they were in authoritative power, and in Styria, I assure you, it -is nothing very astonishing that a baron should lawlessly clap a priest -into a dungeon; but nice fellows all of them, not wicked, not so bad. I -really should not worry myself about the matter, if I were you." - -Langler said: "thank you, baron, I will think over what you have said." -And he walked away to the house. - -It was only after two or three minutes of silence that the baron said to -me: "your friend is one of the brightest minds in the world, really as -extraordinary a fellow as I ever met, I assure you. No one with any -respect for intellect could avoid liking him. But he is a man of books, -he is of the scholar type, he is not a man of action--oh no. A scholar -should never jog himself into antagonism with a man of action. The man -of action may even wish to save and spare him, but sometimes he cannot: -for, just as he is vastly stronger than the scholar, so facts and -auspices may be vastly stronger than he. By far the safest plan for the -scholar is to hatch pastorals in his closet and handle volumes of piety. -So amiable a man is your friend Mr Langler, so charming--nice fellow. I -don't know if you think it worth while to repeat my words to him. Now I -must leave you to talk to Mr Edwards about my friend the doctor ..." and -he rolled away on his bow-legs, his hat canted over his eyes in his -habitual manner. - -That very night, some time after ten, Langler was handed a letter which -he called me into the library to show me. It was a card damasked with -raised devices in red--a Christ on the Cross--and on it had been -scribbled in pencil the words: "You should not interfere." - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE COMPACT - - -The next evening, as Baron Kolár raised himself on the arm of a valet -into the trap which was to carry him to his meeting with Dr Burton, -Langler remembered that some matters were going forward at Swandale -which demanded his personal managing, and he asked me to go with him. - -It was a fine autumn twilight when we set out, a sound of singing -following us from the house and laughter from knots on the lawn, and we -had a very pleasant ride. At Swandale Langler talked with John, with -Jane, saw this and that with his own eyes, the water-cress at the rill -under wire, the patch of reaped corn, for now poppies lay low, over the -fields of the land the corn-shocks were leant together in lots, and all -smelt well of harvest. - -Langler wished to return to Goodford on foot, and we were presently -trudging back through Ritching. - -That something was on his mind I had felt sure; and this proved to be -so, for as we drew nigh to Ritching church he said: "I have decided, -Arthur, to speak with Dr Burton to-night, since, if this good man runs -his rather rash head into any danger, I do not wish to have to reproach -myself with too shrinking and nice a silence on my part." - -"But danger of what nature?" I asked. - -"Its nature is unguessable," he answered; "but of the danger itself one -can't, I think, have any doubt. We know, for instance, that Dr Burton is -'_another Max Dees_,' and we know that Max Dees is, for some reason or -other, in durance. Now, of Max Dees we have two further pieces of -knowledge: first, that his imprisonment has features resembling the -disappearance of Robinson; and secondly, that he, like Dr Burton, is a -'union of Becket and Savonarola.' Well, now, with regard to the -vanishing of Robinson, Emily has let fall the view that it was motived -by his 'beauty'; and though this reason for the disappearance of a man -seems even ridiculous, still we have promised ourselves not wholly to -ignore her instincts in this matter. _If_, then, she may somehow be -right, the reason for the disappearance of Max Dees may somehow be found -in the fact that he, too, is 'beautiful'; or it may be found in the -second fact known of him, that he is a 'union of Becket and Savonarola': -we don't know: but we know that he _is_ imprisoned, and that in some -respects he resembles Dr Burton. As to who is the gaoler of Max Dees, I -am really no more in any doubt. The word 'Kolár' fits very well into the -blurred space on the missive brought us by the wren; and the man -himself, you remember, made no effort to blind our eyes when asked about -the matter, even going out of his way to assure us that the other two -Gregors are 'harmless, nice fellows.' What a beast that man is! Yet how -great a strength of soul is his! Imagine, Arthur (if he is, in truth, -the gaoler of Dees), his astonishment at hearing that name on my lips! -How _utter_ at this moment must be his loss to understand by what marvel -_I_ could ever have learned that name. I expected at least to see him -start, to look abashed a little. But no; his eyes rested serenely on my -face: he seemed to be sorry for me, to deplore my indiscretion. Here, -then, is a man mighty in mass and stature, all self-assured, whose will, -whether it be bent upon good or upon ill, is hardly to be withstood. -Such a person is, apart from special considerations, inherently -formidable; but how if this person be found trying to convert another to -enmity against the Church, and at the same time be found striking up a -friendship with a churchman who in certain particulars resembles another -churchman imprisoned in his castle? Certainly, one's mind can't reject a -notion of danger; and it has appeared to me that I ought not to hold my -peace in the matter, in spite of the _outré_ warning of the card which -Baron Kolár has been kind enough to forward me." - -We had now arrived before Ritching church, which stands well back from -the village street in a large piece of land--"park" one may call -it--well timbered and dark. The building itself is big, modern, and -ugly--one of those churches with huge roofs, red bricks, red shingles, -which rather suggest the cult of some latter-day Moloch than of the -Carpenter. It is built, however, over some old vaults in which repose -generations of the Hampshire branch of the Bellasis family, once of -Goodford, now extinct. - -We got into the grounds by a gateway in a wall of rubble before the -church, and thence, by a path which winds inward through the park some -quarter of a mile towards the vicarage, passed on to the vicarage -garden. The night was now dark, and we found the house in darkness. - -"It looks," said Langler in a low voice, "as if the baron's visit to the -doctor has been quite a long one--two hours at the least--for he seems -to be still here, if one may divine by the darkness in this front part, -which, no doubt, the doctor would have lighted on seeing his visitor -through. The baron must have left his trap at the Calf's Head, for I -don't see it here. Let us wait outside, then, a little. The doctor, by -the way, has the good taste to look out from his study window behind -yonder upon a patch of that white vetch which shimmers so bridally in -all shades of twilight. Come softly, and I will show it you." - -I tracked his tread through thicket towards the back of the old manse, -till we began to catch sight of a glow of light emanating from a -casement behind, and a moment later Langler whispered me: "There, you -see, is the growth of vetch." - -Five feet farther, and from an angle of a lean-to, we could peer through -ivy and rose-bush into a lighted room: in it were Baron Kolár and Dr -Burton, standing. Langler laid hold of my arm, and we stood breathless, -looking. - -The two in the room were deep in converse, the rumour of which reached -us, but none of the words. - -Presently the baron took his hand from the doctor's shoulder, took up a -book from a table, held it uplifted a minute, kissed it. - -He then tendered the book to the doctor, who seemed to us to draw back -rather, and I felt Langler's grasp tighten on my arm, but the baron -seemed to press and reason with the doctor; then the doctor took the -book, lifted it to his lips, kissed it: and at once the hands of the two -men met in a clasp. - -Langler whispered into my ear: "but what agreement hath Christ with -Belial? Isn't it written that he who is a friend of the world is the -enemy of God?" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE FACE OF ROBINSON - - -Two minutes after that clasp of the hands the doctor passed out of the -room with the baron; two minutes later he returned to the room alone, -and stood at the casement, with his brow drooped toward his breast, in a -brown study. - -Langler whispered to me: "you will wait outside. I am going to speak to -him now." - -We walked round to the front of the manse, where Langler rapped, Dr -Burton presently came to him, and I from outside looked on at the two -standing together in lamplight in a parlour. - -Langler, I think, was not asked to sit. I heard the brogue of Dr Burton, -then in Langler's hand beheld the piece of paper on which Dr Burton was -spoken of as a "union of Becket and Savonarola." Dr Burton did not look -at it, but began to lower angrily, Langler to bow, till at last Dr -Burton frowned towards the doorway. Langler bowed, and withdrew. - -When angry he had a habit of lowering the eyelids in an expression of -hissing disdain, and the street-lamps, as we trudged through Ritching, -revealed him so to me. For some time he was silent, but finally, when -we were climbing towards Goodford village, he said: "Dr Burton has -insulted me, Arthur, and for the moment I find it difficult to speak of -him in a Christian spirit. However, he is a good man--I really need just -now to repeat that fact to myself--though mewed up in crassness. -Uppishness, of course, is part of the being of every dominant man, and I -don't blame him for his uppishness, but only for the fact that it is so -blatant and instant. Still, one must take the thorns with the rose, and -I promise by to-morrow morning to love him again. Partly it was my own -fault, for I should have felt, after the compact which we witnessed, -that my warning would be all too late. Imagine how momentous must have -been the matter of that compact, Arthur, when Burton could be brought to -confirm it with the Bible at his lips, and imagine the craft and the -might of will by which he must have felt himself crimped and mesmerised. -Here is a man who two days ago began by telling Baron Kolár that he had -not leisure to listen to him, and already we find him _in genubus_, with -(of all things) _the Book_ at his lips. Have you not here a miracle of -mind? But given a known individuality, one may deduce certain facts from -it. We can assert, for instance, from our sure knowledge of Burton, that -the compact contained nothing dishonouring to _him_, that it was lofty -and pure on _his_ part. It must be so. And since it was Kolár who first -kissed, and afterwards Burton, we may say, too, that the first terms of -the pact are to be fulfilled by Kolár. If Kolár will do certain things, -as he says he will, then Burton will do certain things. But what things? -Pity we couldn't catch a few snatches of the talk; yet certainly, even -so, I don't think that we are quite in the dark. For Burton's motives -were lofty and pure: therefore Kolár's promises of good things did not -concern Burton's own self-interests, or not solely. Yet Burton was so -enthusiastic as to these promises that he took an oath of repayment: -they may very likely, therefore, have concerned his love--the Church. -But the Church where? At Ritching? It is inconceivable that Kolár can be -so interested in the Church at Ritching as to wish to exact any oath -with regard to it. 'Church,' therefore, as between him and Burton, must -mean Church on a larger scale; and in the Church on this scale we know -that Kolár is, in fact, interested. But how is Burton, a village priest, -to repay services rendered to the Church on so large a scale? Does it -not seem as if Kolár's promises do not apply altogether to the Church, -but in part to Burton personally, that Burton is not for ever to remain -a village priest? Indeed, did not Kolár yesterday volunteer the prophecy -that this 'union of Becket and Savonarola' is 'destined to become the -greatest priest in Europe'? A singular prophecy, Arthur, from a man -whose words in general assuredly have some significance. We may guess, -then, that Kolár's undertakings consist in rendering to the Church some -good which will include the rise and greatness of the doctor himself, -and the doctor swears to use his greatness in some way indicated, or to -be indicated, by Kolár. Certainly, such seem the divinations prompted by -the facts which we have." - -"Isn't it a strange thing," I said, "the interest of Kolár in the -doctor, even before he saw him? It is not to be supposed that Kolár is a -very regular church-goer, yet he hastened to hear the doctor at once on -coming to Goodford. One could be almost certain that the letter -describing the doctor as Becket _plus_ Savonarola, and asking someone to -'come down,' was addressed to no other than to Baron Kolár." - -"Very likely," replied Langler; "and that was chiefly what I had to say -to Burton in our interview just now. I tried to persuade him that the -baron is no friend of priests, that he probably has one of them a -prisoner in his burg at this moment, but because I could make no certain -statements his mind was closed against me. On his part, he used the -words 'evil-speaking,' 'presumption,' 'interference'; he said 'dare,' he -said 'irreverent.' But I won't speak of that interview--it was _bęte_. -The sentiment that now occupies my mind about Dr Burton is this: 'the -pity of it!' One cannot touch pitch and go undefiled. I have often had -the augury that Burton is a man with a tragedy in his future, and, if I -was right, that tragedy now perhaps takes shape: it will consist in his -'defilement.' Baron Kolár has prophesied that the doctor will be the -greatest of priests: well, if I, too, may prophesy, I say that from -being the greatest of priests, as he now is, he will become no priest at -all; that by little and little he will drop from his height, will lose -perfection of motive and absoluteness of fibre, till on a day he will -find himself fingering the dross of the grosser world." - -By this time we had got into sight of the lights of Goodford House. On -our arrival, as we were passing through the outer hall, a man handed a -letter to Langler, which Langler, after glancing through it, handed to -me; and I read the words: "Charles Robinson, your groom, is certainly in -this neighbourhood, and if you have not found him it is because you have -not searched enough. If you have the courage to meet the writer at the -north-west corner of Hallam Castle alone at seven on Sunday evening, he -promises you that at least you shall see the face of the missing man.--A -Well-wisher." - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -"CRUCIFY TO YOURSELVES AFRESH THE SON OF MAN ..." - - -It was the thirteenth Sunday after Trinity, and for what reason I don't -remember--certainly, the house-party at Goodford were hardly zealots in -the matter of church-going--that Sunday evening quite a party had been -got up to go to the office at Ritching. The fact, I believe, was that -the fame of Dr Burton's oratory had spread through the house, and -dowager and lordling, finding the Sabbath evening empty, yielded to the -pique of curiosity and to Mrs Edward's organising genius. - -Baron Kolár, too, had everywhere dropped the opinion that Dr Burton was -a nice fellow, that he was not so bad, that he was the only living man -with whom grandiose speech was a natural function, like sleep. - -Langler alone had declined to take part in the bout. Under any -circumstances, I fancy, he would have shrunk from that kind of religious -picnic; but he had now the special reason that he meant to go "at seven" -that evening to the rendezvous at Hallam Castle given him in the -unsigned letter. - -To me this seemed very foolish, for I argued that no one could know the -whereabouts of Robinson except those to whom he owed his disappearance, -and during two days I had been praying Langler to ignore the letter. He -answered that he had made up his mind to go. But at least he would let -me go with him, I urged. He answered that he would rather be alone. What -arms, I asked, would he take with him? He said that he was not -accustomed to carry weapons about, and would take his stick. - -"But you speak," I had said, "just as though you were not conscious of -any danger in the undertaking." - -"Well, I am conscious of danger," he answered, "but I believe that in -proportion to the danger may be the amount of information to be -gathered." - -He had said that he would walk to Hallam Castle (three miles), and then, -after his interview with the letter-writer, walk from Hallam to Ritching -church (two miles), in order to get back to Goodford with the -house-party in a carriage. - -A little before six on the Sunday evening I was leaning with Miss Emily -over a bridge in the north park when he came to us on his way to the -rendezvous, spoke a few words, said he was going farther, and made me a -signal with the eyes to be mum. Twice he waved back at us as he went -forward; once and again I saw him stop to bend over a hedge-flower. He -was rather pale. I had long understood that his heart was not strong, -as small exertions would sometimes put him out of breath. - -Miss Emily, for her part, had consented to be one of the party of -excursionists, so after half-an-hour at the bridge she and I climbed the -rising ground to the house to go to the church. - -She said, I remember, that the escapade was a bore to her, so that up to -that moment she certainly meant to go. - -There in front of the porch when we reached it stood a crowd of -vehicles, saddle-horses, drivers, grooms, in the midst of costumes and -chatter. Two of the carriages had already started, bearing away cries of -laughter at the crowded discomfort within them. I saw the pink brow of -Mr Edwards under the neck of a rearing horse; large Mrs Edwards was in a -flush of earnestness; Baron Kolár was seated on a cube of marble -bestowing his teeth upon the scene. - -Miss Emily was not yet ready to start, so ran into the house, telling me -that she would be back in three minutes. - -It had been ordained by Mrs Edwards that she should drive with Baron -Kolár. I was with another party. In a few minutes only two of the -vehicles were left; in one of them sat the baron, waiting for Miss -Emily. I was in the other with four ladies; the baron's was a cabriolet, -mine a car; both waited for the coming of Miss Emily. - -Someone in my car said: "she is a long time." - -The baron's eyes wandered; he drew his hand backward over his scrap of -hair, looking restless; he pipped nothings. Presently he called out: -"where is she, then?" - -I was unwilling to drive away without her, so I called back to him: "if -you will take my place, I will take yours, and wait for her." - -There was the objection of space to this proposition; but, without -answering, the baron at once got himself down from his cabriolet, and, -with ponderous cares, managed to wedge himself into my place in the car, -which drove off, while I stood by the cabriolet, waiting for Miss Emily. - -She did not come. I waited ten minutes, fifteen. Then I went into the -house, full of trouble. - -I quickly found a housemaid, and sent her to hunt, but, running back -after some minutes, she said that Miss Langler was not in her room. -Before long I had a number of men and women searching the house for her; -but she could not be found, and my heart sank at the thought that both -of them, brother and sister, were where I did not know. - -One of the girls said that half-an-hour before, when Miss Langler was -coming down the great stair to join the party, she had handed to Miss -Langler a note which one of the villagers of Mins had given her. She had -gone away while Miss Langler was reading the note, and did not know what -Miss Langler had done afterwards. - -As for me, my mind was a void filled only with fear. The house was -empty, I had no one to consult, no notion how to act. At last I leapt -into the cabriolet, lashed the horse, and went along the road that leads -to Hallam Castle: at least I knew where one of the two was to be sought. - -It is a ruin in the older Norman mood in the midst of Goodford Manor -demesne. On getting to it I made fast the horse, and ran up a dell to -the "north-west corner" of the rendezvous: Langler was not there, but it -was still light enough for me to see some footprints in moss on a mass -of broken ground not far from the castle-wall: whether his footprints or -not I couldn't tell. - -I began to call out, but there was no answer, and the footprints passing -from the moss, I lost them among stones. - -Night was darkening when I went to the other (east) end of the ruin, and -entered by a wicket into one of the courtyards. When I had stumbled a -little way up a stair I was all in darkness. I called aloud Langler's -name again and again; but there was no answer. - -I would go no farther, the steps were so broken, the darkness so crowded -with foes and fears; I had no light; so at last I ran back down. He -might after all, I thought, have left the ruin and gone to the church, -as arranged. That was the first thing now to find out, so I ran back to -my trap, and cantered off towards Ritching. - -At Ritching I flung my reins to the railing before the church, and ran -inward, the middle portal framing a glimmer of light before me. I heard -the rise, long triumph, and fall of a royal voice: Dr Burton preaching; -and, running up the three steps before the church, I peeped in. - -There was no pulpit, no rood-screen; Dr Burton was before the sacrarium; -and with his hands behind his back, he was striding sharply a little way -to and fro, with swinging shoulders at the turn, like a man moved to -wrath. - -That evening he had read of the sending out of the Twelve; of the power -vouchsafed them over unclean spirits; of the charge that they must take -naught for their journey, save a staff only--no scrip, no bread, no -money in their purse; and the contrast between the spirit of Christ and -the spirit of Christendom may have fired the doctor. He had taken for -his text: "crucify to yourselves afresh the son of man, and put him to -an open shame"; and at the moment when I entered he was launching a war -of language against the modern world and the modern Church. - -The party from Goodford formed much the larger part of the congregation, -down the nave running a desert of pews, and I think I am right in saying -that not more than fifty persons were present, all herded towards the -front, looking lost in the largeness of the church. So low had the gas -been turned that, though I went peering quite half way up the nave, I -could not say whether Langler was or was not there. - -At that moment Dr Burton had lashed himself into a really painful pitch -of heat. He was tacking to and fro in short runs, rather like lions at -the moment when they spy their keeper coming with meat, and loudly he -cried out in his brogue: "ye crucify him afresh! Oh, the poor, bleeding -hands--so nailed. Oh, the poor, bleeding side--so pierced. Oh, the -ravished lamb, oh, the violated dove, oh, the crushed Christ! Have ye, -then, no pity? no entrails of compassion? ye dry eyes? ye hard hearts? -ye tearless teats? Have ye become men of _wood_? worm-eaten? loth as -death? chill as the silver ye gloat on? sallow as the gold ye clutch? -May God put fire into you, if it were half hell-fire, ye Monophysites, -ye modern men of pure Polar snow! Oh, look--oh, see: that lip--so -sucked: Is there no lust about you that you don't bind it with wild -community to your mouth? Those eyeballs ooze a whey of blood: is there -no heart in all the Sahara of your vulgar gullets to weep and groan and -weep?... Yes, it was pitiful: he was kind, and he was killed, he was -good, and he was galled, he was meek, and he was mangled. And will you -crucify him _afresh_? In the name of Holy Church, I call the Eternal God -this night----" - -But at this point Dr Burton stopped with a gasp, gaping upward all in -wonderment; and from his mouth, from mine, from the mouths of us all in -the church, there burst a sound. - -Yonder in mid-air--under the roof of the central aisle--hung the -crucified himself. - -That sight will never tend to fade or be blurred in the memory of those -who beheld it; if there be memory in Eternity, then always still in -Eternity that sight, I think, will be with me. - -It was not an optical error--that was the first certainty at which the -brain, on waking a little from its deadness, arrived; it was not some -magic illusion: a real man crucified on a real cross stood there -revealed. From three points of the thorn-dented forehead I, with my eye -of flesh, saw a trickle creep, and pause, and creep. - -I found myself on my knees on the tiles, with my hands clasped. I forgot -Langler--I forgot my love, his sister--and all things else. From the -bowed knot of men and women in front of me came groan on groan. - -_At last!_ The heavens had spoken.... - -Yet it was faintly seen, and though I raised my head, and forced my eyes -to search the divine horror, the light was most dim, and the revelation -seemed rather the spectre of a thing than the thing itself. Only, each -detail was perfect, and it was the crudeness of these details which -proved its reality to the mind with proof a hundred times sure. The -haggard crucifixions of Dürer and Spagnoletto--all the _macabre_ dreams -of a painter, graver, sculptor, heaped into one massacre of flesh and of -grinning bone--would seem like a child's fancy in comparison with that -fact. Still in my dreams I see the sideward hang of that under-lip, and -that hollow between ribs and hips drawn out into shocking length, and -the irregular drip from the hands, the left of which had been ripped to -the finger-roots, and the crown of sorrow, and the dead drop of that -tragic brow, it cannot be told.... - -Perhaps I alone examined details; the rest knelt bowed down; only Dr -Burton, with his neck stretched back, stared as if in vision straight -upward upon heaven. In myself I felt a kind of rapture, and also of -peace; and the words which I murmured to myself were these: "at last." - -All at once, without ascent, descent, or movement, the image vanished. - -But still for a longish time no stir nor sound, save some hushed sob, -was to be heard echoing through the building. - -At last! after the dumb centuries, a sign from the skies, a flag from -God; and I thought to myself: "long have been those years in which so -many generations of men have wept in the face of the sphinx, craving but -one sure word from the callous vault for a morsel of manna to their -hunger, and now the old silence is over"; and I remember hugging myself, -thinking: "it was true, then! it was not a fancy of man's infancy! it -was all quite true." - -Through the church the sobs of duchess and ploughman, of server and -acolyte, began to sound in growing volume; I saw Dr Burton lift himself -and escape into the sacristy; the others mingled the sounds of their -awe, till the echoes became one murmur in the vault. As for me, the -burden of my thought was this: "at last...." - -But, looking up, I was conscious of a row of teeth, and of Baron Kolár, -who, with a raised head, was smiling his benediction upon the scene, and -his look was as when he snuffled sleepily of a thing, "well, it is not -so bad." I do not know if anyone else noticed him; but, as for me, -filled though I was with my other feelings, for a moment I was most -offended. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -OF HALLAM CASTLE - - -When at last a movement was made to leave the church I first assured -myself that neither Langler nor Miss Emily was there, then I set out -upon the drive back to Goodford somewhat behind the crowd of carriages, -no sound now to be heard from all that picnic party which had left -Goodford loud with gaiety an hour before. - -During that drive the mere sight of the trees and fields once more -brought down my mind from the miracle to the care which had racked it -before I had entered the church. Langler, his sister, both of them, were -where I did not know; and at another time my fright at a situation so -fraught with darkness might have been even madding, but that night my -heart was the home of feelings so pious that something of hope healed my -fears. - -My relief, however, was great enough when, in front of Goodford House, I -spied Langler standing among the alighting church-party. As I hurried up -to him he was just saying to one of the ladies: "I hope you enjoyed the -office," but her only answer was: "ah, Mr Langler." - -Langler, of course, was quite out of tune with us all at the moment, and -he could not perhaps observe the look of our faces, for the night was -dark. - -As I touched his arm he spun round, saying: "ah, Arthur," and I remember -how his tone of the world, his cigar, shocked me: he seemed to me a -grosser being than we. I wished to say to him: "Hush! the earth is holy -ground." - -In a low voice I asked him as to his sister. His answer was: "she is in -the house; two hours ago a note was handed to her, purporting----" - -"We can't speak of it now," I said, stopping him: "all is well if she is -in the house." - -When he looked at me with some surprise I whispered to him: "we are none -of us inclined to talk just now: you will soon know why." - -The others meanwhile all going within, in the inner hall I now heard a -laugh which I recognised as Miss Emily's, and I did not know whether it -more shocked me or filled me with thankfulness that she was safely -there. - -"If you had waited one little hour for me," she said as I went in, "I -should have been back to go to the church with you." - -"I will explain all later," I answered. "I had to go to look for -Aubrey." - -"Look for him?" - -"You may be told in time," I answered: "you see, everyone is making -haste to retire...." - -"So I see," said she, "but what is the matter?" - -"We have all seen something." - -"One would say a ghost." - -"The ghost of God," I answered, in what she _must_ have thought a tone -of bathos! - -"You imply that God is dead," she retorted in her dry way. - -"He died for us, Emily," I answered most crassly! whereat she bridled, -and said: "_O!_" with such an underlook and depth of satire, that I -could not bear to see her so banned from my awful mood, and, with a -motion of my hand, left her in haste, for all manner of talk at that -moment seemed to me unholy. - -On the Monday morning, as I was breakfasting in my own quarters, Langler -came to me, saying: "I have to apologise, Arthur, if my manner last -night was at all incongruous with your mood, and I have to add Emily's -apologies to my own. We have now heard and read what you saw, and -understand how you must have felt." - -"You understand something," I answered; "you can't understand all." - -"Well, no," said he: "I am only sorry that neither Emily nor I was -privileged to be present, so that we might be in the fullest sympathy -with you. Did you, Arthur--get a complete sight of the vision?" - -He sat beside me, his hand on my arm, and I told him all, word by word, -in a husky voice; and he listened with a bent head. - -"We are dust and ashes," he murmured when I had finished: "the -humiliation of it for us all!" - -"Yes, the salvation," said I. - -"But the humiliation firstly, I think," said he. "How modern men have -taken up and confirmed the seer's word: 'the same yesterday, to-day, and -for ever.' It was the one certain clue which we had to God. And now -that, too, is snapped when we find His way of acting on Sunday night so -foreign to His way on Saturday and Monday." - -"Aubrey, we know nothing," I said. - -"So I, too, say," he answered, "and I say that it is in the proof which -the vision has given us of this that our humiliation lies. How shall we -ever more trust our reason, or enjoy the pleasures of our mind? We were -so assured that His voice is ever small and hinting, that He guides us -with His eye; but now on a sudden we seem to find Him glaring and -pedagogic----" - -"Still, let us not allow ourselves to criticise the vision, Aubrey," I -said. - -"No, certainly, we mustn't allow ourselves to do that," he replied: "I -was rather criticising the paltriness of our reason, and I was thinking -of the damper which the vision will undoubtedly put upon the intellect -of the Western world before this day is over." - -"Well, since our intellect is unreliable, that won't much matter," I -said, "and God's way is best. But I still know nothing of your -adventures last night: did you go to Hallam Castle?" - -"Yes, I went, and the promise of my unknown correspondent was even duly -fulfilled." - -"You don't mean that you saw Robinson?" - -"At least I saw Robinson's face, according to the promise." - -His words struck me dumb. - -"I reached the Castle soon after twilight had begun to darken," he went -on. "It is a low ruin, you know, stretching along the upper edges of a -mound, at the bottom of which, on the north side, runs a road through a -sort of dell which they call the 'Castle Dell'; up this road I went in -order to get to the 'north-west corner' named in the rendezvous. A few -sheep were pasturing on the castle-mound; but no other living thing was -to be seen, nor a sound to be heard, and I won't pretend that I was so -perfectly collected in mind as I might have been. It is a pity that we -should ever breathe shorter than we will, but.... Anyway, I climbed up -the dell-road till I came as near the north-west corner of the ruin as I -could, for one can't quite get up to it, the mound at that point being -rocky and steep; but after waiting on the road some minutes, and seeing -no one, I began to climb a path at right angles to the dell-road leading -south on the west side of the castle--a path with steps embedded in the -soil. I was on these steps when I heard some sound like the echo of a -shout, and on glancing to my left I saw Robinson's face at a window of -the round-tower which forms the north-west corner of the ruin." - -The fact of Robinson's face being seen at last sounded so strange to my -ears that I could only breathe: "but are you sure, Aubrey?" - -"Well," said he, "he was separated from me by perhaps thirty yards, for -between the mass of ground on which I stood and that west side of the -castle is a ravine or dry moat of about that breadth; moreover, it was -getting dark in the dell, which is well wooded; but still I saw him -pretty well, and it was certainly Robinson and no other." - -"But did he see you? Did he speak?" I asked. - -"He probably did not see me," Langler answered; "certainly he did not -speak. I cried out to him, bending forward over a rail at the edge of -the cleft, but he did not answer.... Oh, Arthur, it was a face much -marred, believe me! It is my belief that he was unconscious, that he was -held at the window for me to see by others whom I could not see. After -some seconds he was withdrawn from my sight." - -"But this is pitiful," I said. "What did you do?" - -"I might perhaps have acted more promptly than I did," he answered: "I -see that now, and must confess it to you and to myself. It is certainly -to be regretted that the rate of one's breathing should ever have an -influence upon the quality of the mental operations or upon the quality -of one's mode of acting; and here certainly is a little matter to which, -it seems, that I, for my part, will have to give some attention on all -future occasions. There is no doubt that I lost some minutes in thinking -what I should next do: however, as I am familiar with the castle, I did -not lose time in running to the west gate near on my left, for this I -knew to be fastened, but I hurried down the dell-road to the east side -of the ruin, and there climbed the mound by a path in the sward which -leads to the east gate. Here I could gain an entrance, for the wicket of -this gate has disappeared, but I see now that I ought to have waited -outside, and not gone in: help might have come from some source; at -least no one could have come out of the ruin without being seen by me. -However, I went in, for after the delays already made I felt urged to do -something energetic, and, no doubt, fidgeted. Some people seem to act -aptly without forethought, as the fly flies; others act aptly by -forethought; and others again, in using too much forethought here, and -none at all there, produce those left-handed, gawky results which seem -to guffaw in one's face. I hope that I am not of this last type; but on -this particular occasion, I confess, I do rather seem to have been -outdone--in fact, I was outdone. I rushed without thought through the -wicket into the lowest of the three courtyards, which is now a -greensward shaded by two walnut-trees, and ran up some steps in the -north-east round-tower, my feet, I fear, making some sounds, and once or -twice I slipped in the dark, the stones being very displaced. Near the -tower-top I turned west over the castle-wall--the wall is really two -walls, you know, filled between with concrete, over which runs a footway -between field flowers. This footway brought me into a second tower, -where some stairs lead up to a similar path on the wall which runs along -the second courtyard. It was quite dark in that tower, and I stopped -once to consider whether the course which I was pursuing was quite the -best; however, having come to no decision, I was creeping on up when I -heard a sound behind me, the creak of a door, then at once another creak -of another door somewhere; at the same time both doors were bolted, and -I understood that I was in durance." - -He smiled at my look of concern, adding: "don't be alarmed, since you -now see me here; in fact, having convinced myself that I was really -imprisoned, I, for my part, became easier in mind than I had been, -feeling the irksomeness of having to fight out this matter taken off my -hands, since, being a prisoner, it was now out of my power to do -anything; and I resigned myself to suffer with a calm spirit whatever -might be in store for me. Indeed, it seems to be often less of a burden -and bore to suffer patiently than to have to run, and wage war, and -act; at any rate, I felt that my captors had relieved me of a -responsibility in this matter of the rescue of poor Robinson. I stood -against the wall on a ledge three feet wide, with a railing at its edge, -and the hollow interior of the tower below, and the two doors being grey -with age, their surface rough with the carvings of visitors' names, but -still stout, I put my arm through some of the holes which have appeared -in the oak, trying to reach the bolts, but could not. Then I sat down in -a hearthplace, and was sitting there so long, with nothing for the eye -to rest on but the bushes at the tower-top massed against the dark sky, -that I should have fallen asleep if I had not been roused by hearing -some shouts, coming, I thought, from the castle-dell----" - -"They were _my_ shouts probably," I said; "and you were there all the -time!" - -"What, were you at Hallam Castle last night?" he asked. - -"Why, yes," I answered, "for when Emily disappeared, and it struck me -that you had both been inveigled away, I could think of nothing but to -go to the castle to look for you. I shouted your name in the -castle-dell, I even went up the very stairs--didn't you hear me call out -'Aubrey'? Hearing no answer, I hurried off to Ritching, to see if you -were in the church: and you were in the ruins all the time!" - -"Your shouts reached me only as echoes," he said, "and when they ceased -I composed myself afresh to rest in my hearthplace, but was soon again -startled by a sound--the drawing of the bolt of the door by which I had -entered. I leapt up, to find the door open: but my liberator, whoever he -was, was not to be seen. I hurried down the stair, but neither saw him -nor heard his tread." - -"Strange proceedings," I said. - -"But with a meaning in their strangeness, I am convinced," said Langler. - -"What did you do now?" - -"What could I do? I walked back to Goodford village, informed the -constabulary that I had seen Robinson, then, very tired, trudged up to -Goodford House, only to hear that Emily had not gone to the church with -the party, but had disappeared. However, I was examining the servants on -the matter when Emily herself walked in." - -"What had happened?" I asked. - -"As she was about to set out with the party," he answered, "a note had -been handed her, purporting to come from me, asking her to join me -secretly on a matter of urgency at the Cart-and-Horse in Mins. So -_outré_ a thing, of course, alarmed her, and she started out in great -haste. It was only when she got to the Cart-and-Horse, that, looking -again at the note, she saw that the writing was not really mine, but a -forgery. She then got a trap, and drove back to Goodford." - -"Oh, there is something ominous in all this, Aubrey," I said. - -"Well, so it seems," he answered. "The note purporting to come from me -was handed to Emily by a still-room girl here named Charlotte, and was -handed to Charlotte by a villager named Weeks. Now, I have had Weeks -over from Mins this morning, and Weeks declares that the note was handed -him by a dapper young gentleman, probably a foreigner, who met him a -little outside Mins, and offered him five shillings for taking it to -Goodford House. Weeks left the stranger sitting in the gloaming on the -roots of a well-known yew on the road between Mins and Up Hatherley." - -"But what design," I said, "could this man have had in enticing Emily -from Goodford at that particular time?" - -"That is hard to say," answered Langler; "but you observe that I, too, -was enticed from Goodford at that time by a promise which was kept by -men whom we need not suppose to be scrupulous in the matter of keeping -their word. What, then, could have been the motive of actually showing -me the face of Robinson, as promised? It could only have been to draw me -into the tower to his rescue, and so to my imprisonment. But remember -that that imprisonment only lasted three-quarters of an hour at most, -and during that short detainment it was that Emily was enticed to Mins. -It would seem, then, that with the same motive her absence and mine -from Goodford House during that particular three-quarters of an hour was -a thing to be desired." - -"It wasn't from Goodford that our absence was desired, Aubrey," cried -Miss Emily, suddenly looking through the half-opened door, "but from -Ritching church: for I was about to go to the church, and so did you -mean to go to it from Hallam Castle." - -Langler, it seems, had been constrained to tell her something of his -adventures at the castle, and he said now, with rather a start: "well, -then, it may have been from the church that our absence was desired." - -"But for what reason in the world?" I asked. - -"Who knows?" he answered. "Still, it does seem now to be so." - -"But for what possible reason, do you imagine, Emily?" I asked again. - -Miss Emily after a moment's silence answered: "how should I know? But -quidquid latet apparebit! we shall know it all some day"--and, saying -this, she was gone from us. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -BARON KOLAR ON THE MIRACLE - - -Going down the stair later in the day, I was met by Mrs Edwards hurrying -up with her large face flushed, and she stopped a little to give into my -ear like a cargo all that was on her mind. Her manner was ever homely, -one might say petting and motherly. - -"How did you sleep?" she said in a sort of whisper, "I hope you and the -Langlers are not going to desert me, too: five of the others are off -after lunch, and it is too bad, everything will be spoiled. If the -miracle had only waited till--but God's will be done. What a thing! I -haven't got over it yet, have you? Edwards says he will be at the -telephone most of the day, and that Dr Burton will have to be a prelate -or something. The Queen has been talking with him from Windsor about -Burton and the miracle; the whole world seems wild with excitement; they -say that no miracle was ever seen by so many reliable witnesses. Poor -Edwards is up to the ears in it, I'm afraid he is not very pleased at -bottom, and he puts the whole blame of it upon me, as though I had any -power to interfere.... I oughtn't to have got up the church-party, he -says--as though I could have foreseen.... Anyway, five of the guests are -off, and Edwards says that Society will have to moderate its tone in -face of what he foresees"--and some more of this kind. - -I told her that I didn't think that the Langlers would be shortening -their visit. "But as to Baron Kolár," I said, "is he among the departing -guests?" - -"No," she answered, "the baron stays on till Thursday. He was closeted -an hour this morning with Edwards--Oh, that man! he is too incorrigible; -he has told Lady Truscott not to be overwhelmed, since the miracle has -some explanation--puts it all down to hypnotism--I must go." On this she -ran on up, and left me. - -Below I was at once struck by a difference in the tone of the house. I -did not see Mr Edwards, and Baron Kolár too was missing. Langler told me -that the baron was at Ritching Vicarage with Dr Burton, and when I -mentioned to him what Mrs Edwards had whispered me as to Burton's -probable rise, his answer was: "well, that will be only fitting: -moreover, Baron Kolár prophesied it, you remember." - -The afternoon passed into twilight, and still I saw no sign of the -Styrian, but an hour before dinner, as I happened to be strolling alone -in one of the home-coverts separated by a path from the park, Mr -Edwards, without any hat, broke through the bushes, dashing back his -hair, and looking pestered. "Oh, Mr Templeton," he said, "have you seen -anything of Baron Kolár?" - -I said no. - -"Hang the man," said he, "I have had four men out on his trail for an -hour...." - -I said that I had understood earlier in the day that the baron was at Dr -Burton's. - -"He was," answered Edwards, "but he isn't now. It is precisely about Dr -Burton that I want to see him, for the Bishop of Lincoln offers Burton -the nomination to the vacant Chancellorship and Residentiary Canonry, on -condition that I accept at once. Properly speaking, you know, the whole -job lies miles outside my interest, and I only wish----God forgive me." - -"But why all the flurry?" I asked. - -"Well," he answered, "the country, of course, looks to me now to rush Dr -Burton into some Grand Lamaship--as though one could at a moment's -notice like this! I assure you, Mr Templeton, soft isn't the word for -the hundreds of unpractical suggestions that have been made me this day -by leading men in the country, so what we are coming to from a business -point of view is rather hard to say. Oxford is a place up in the clouds! -and Cambridge isn't far below.... I don't seem to have even a spare -deanery into which to fit Burton, and the whole to-do is rather hard on -me--all extraneous work and worry--for _I_ haven't studied -Church-organisation! if anyone were to ask me who is the real head of it -all as things are, the King or the Pope, I believe I'd be put to it to -give him a straight answer. However, there's this Lincoln -Chancellorship, and I'm hunting down Baron Kolár to see whether or not -he'll have it for Dr Burton just for the time being...." - -At this I could not help exclaiming: "but what voice has Baron Kolár in -the matter of the career of Dr Burton?" - -"Oh, well," said Mr Edwards, "you would hardly see the inwardness of it -off-hand by the light of nature, for it is delicate in a diplomatic way. -You know that Baron Kolár fills such a place both in and out of the -Reichsrath that he is one of the four men who really have the world's -peace in the hollow of their hand, but perhaps you don't know by how far -he is probably the most dangerous of the four, for the bottom meanings -of that man's polity remain an unknown quantity, and in order to get at -them you would have first of all to draw his teeth, for his mind lurks -in a stronghold of which his teeth are the ramparts, and it takes a -pretty tricky one to see much that's behind 'em. Anyway, the Foreign -Minister of a country whose chief asset is peace would rather stand -personally well with Baron Kolár with a view to sound sleep at night -than with, I was going to say his--own--wife." - -"Quite so," said I; "but still, what can be the grounds of this -interest of the baron in Dr Burton? not political?" - -"It is, somehow," said Edwards, "though I don't pretend quite to fathom -the lees of this particular mind; but from the first he adopted Burton, -and, of course, when a man like him chooses to chaperon a parish-priest -up the mountains of preferment----" - -At this point a clerk ran up to deliver some message to Mr Edwards, who -went off with him, I, for my part, continuing my stroll through the -covert till I came out upon a road, where the first thing which I saw -was Baron Kolár's valet reclining in a meadow, smoking. I went through a -gate to him, and asked where his master was. His answer was in the -words: "perhaps can you that house there under see? there is he." - -I knew the house to which he pointed: it is called Dale Manor, and was -then the home of two old maids whom I had long known as "Miss Jane" and -"Miss Lizzie" (Chambers), for they were visitors at Swandale. How Baron -Kolár had come to know them, why he was there, I couldn't guess; but, in -good nature to Mr Edwards, I walked down three very steep fields, then -down two lanes, to Dale Manor, in order to tell the baron that he was -being sought. - -This Dale Manor, certainly, was a very charming home. I pulled the -bell-chain at the wall which surrounds the place, and, on being let in, -caught sight of Miss Jane pacing, with gloves and scissors, among her -flowers. I think that the sun had already set, and the scene in there -was all one of bowery shades and peace and well-being. Miss Jane, I -suppose, thought that I had come on a visit, and after asking some -questions about the Langlers and the miracle invited me in. I then asked -if Baron Kolár was in the house, to which she replied, with a smile: -"yes--_fast asleep_." - -"Asleep!" - -"_Sh-h-h!_" she whispered, "he is just under that window there: my -sister is watching over him; it must be nearly time for me to relieve -her...." - -I was too astonished to speak! My knowledge of the manner of life of -these ladies, its English primness and reclusion, made all the keener my -feeling of the oddity here, for certainly they would have consented to -take turns in watching over the slumbers of no other male person, and I -thought to myself: "well! such miracles are wrought by great men." - -"I didn't know that you even knew the baron," I said at last. - -"We have known him for five afternoons," answered Miss Jane in a hushed, -but animated, manner--"since last Thursday! In passing by the Manor he -fell in love with it, and rang the gate-bell. I happened to be in the -gardens, and, being _naturally_ startled, contrived to send for my -sister, who after examining him through the spyglass from a window came -down to us. It was _so_ embarrassing at first! we had no _notion_ what -to make of the man suddenly sprung upon us, with his great satin jacket -and stream of talk, we _couldn't_, of course, know who he might be, for -it was only after a long while that he let out that he was staying at -Goodford. He led us round the grounds, criticising and admiring -_everything_, then had the head gardener brought to suggest certain -changes to him--and there is no doubt that he _must_ be a past master of -horticulture, forestry, and landscape gardening, you know--then he said -that he was tired and thirsty, and had a headache, so we _had_ finally -to decide to ask him in." - -"It must have been an event!" - -"Well, we were certainly put out," answered Miss Jane, "and poor Lizzie -has been taking lavender-water; for Barons Kolár do not grow on every -bush, and it all came upon us like any thunderclap. He sat by that -window in the drawing-room, talking, talking in his long-drawn way, and -looking sleepy, while Lizzie and I glanced at each other, wondering what -next, for my sister and I of course know what each other is thinking -without needing to speak. Now, as it happened, Fanny, our between-maid, -was ill, and Lizzie had been making some special milk-toast for her, so -it occurred to Lizzie to give him some of it, with tea; she had made -quite a pile, and never _dreamt_--anyway, it was brought in. Well, he -began to eat languidly, but he kept on eating and talking, and, Mr -Templeton, he ate up every scrap--yes, every scrap." - -"Poor Fanny!" - -"Yes, indeed. My sister and I glanced at each other when we saw the pile -of milk toast going, going, and then gone. But he consoled poor Lizzie, -who, if she has just a touch of vanity, is to be condoned on the score -of her youth--you know, of course, Mr Templeton, that my sister is my -junior by three years--he consoled her by saying that he had never -tasted _any_thing so nice; and it is only just to my sister to admit -that she _can_ make milk-toast. But he had hardly finished the -milk-toast when he began to nod, and before we knew where we were we had -him fast asleep on our hands. He muttered afresh that he had a headache, -that he wished to be allowed to sleep on the sofa, and that he would -like his hair to be brushed while he slept! then he threw himself down, -and was instantly asleep. Imagine our plight! What _could_ we do, Mr -Templeton? Lizzie, who was quite distracted, put a chair under his feet, -and proposed to _me_ to brush his hair! I simply _would_ not! She -maintained that it was my duty to assume the initiative, since I am the -elder, but I _could_ not see eye to eye with her, and at last, after a -great deal _too_ many words, she decided that, since it had to be done, -and I _would_ not, then she _must_, being the younger----" - -"That was brave and charming of Miss Lizzie," I said. - -"You think so?" asked Miss Jane, with a weighing look at me: "to tell -the truth, we here are not much in favour of adventures and new -departures, and rather affect the quiet old monotonies; but since you -think so----At any rate, he slept for an hour; and every afternoon since -then he comes, eats a pile of milk-toast, sleeps an hour, and has his -hair brushed. What _can_ we do or say? We are in the maze of an -enchantment! Punctually as the clock strikes four his ring is heard at -the gate, and in he comes, happy and smiling." - -"It is an idyll," I said; "but I have an urgent message for him, if one -may venture to disturb his Excellency's siesta." - -"I fear he would hardly approve of being awakened," said Miss Jane; "but -he won't sleep long now, I know. We might go in softly, and see -them...." - -On this we went in, to find Miss Lizzie, all brown silk and mitts, -sitting in patient vigil over the Styrian, from whom came a note of -slumber. To me nothing could have been funnier than this casting of his -gross weight by Baron Kolár upon these dainty ladies, and at the sight -of it I was afresh pierced with laughter. Miss Jane now took Miss -Lizzie's place as watcher, while Miss Lizzie came to ply me with hushed -questions about the miracle, till at last the baron opened his eyes, -showed his teeth in a smile, moaned for happiness, and sat up. - -I informed him that he was being sought by the Prime Minister, and -presently, after some talk, we two left Dale Manor together for -Goodford. - -"Dear beings," he said happily to me of the Misses Chambers, "nice -people, charming people, I like them. These are not women, oh no, they -are angels. It is astonishing to what differentiations the human species -lends itself: here in these ladies you have a type which is not the -highest anthropologically, and yet may be as unapelike as the exactest -genius of our age. Primitive creatures spent their lives in a passion of -earnestness, seeking their food, and defending themselves from violence; -but evolution is toward the appreciation of trifles. The earnestness of -the engineer, of the statesman, is still brutish: he bestrides the world -wild of eye, while to these ladies a parish is the world, tiny -traditions are their life, whatever arises causes them to exchange a -code of glances. Nice people, gracious people: their velvet manners, -their cushions, their shaded interior--everything nice and luxurious, -and, I assure you, they make very good toast--very good. Nor does it -displease me to find them devoid of ideas, oh no, there is no need for -them to say anything: merely as listeners they have a merit. I am only -sorry that this so-called miracle has come to excite and unsettle -them." - -"But 'so-called,' Baron Kolár!" I could not help crying out: "surely you -saw the miracle with your own eyes, like the rest of us!" - -"Well, yes, I saw it," he said; "oh yes, I saw it, too. But this looks -to me a case in which it would be well not to place too much faith in -the senses. If we know that miracles cannot happen, then, when we see -them, we can only regard them as due to some caprice of our fancy; and -if Providence is warned beforehand that we shall so regard them, it will -be the less tempted to trouble us with any. On the whole, a mood of -impassive aloofness seems to me the wisest with regard to what we -witnessed on Sunday night. Do not permit it to engage or modify you at -all; just say to yourself: 'let the vulgar millions lose their heads, -but let me and my friends watch them with an impregnable eye.' Or do you -not think that my advice is good?" - -"On the contrary," I said, while a flush leapt to my face, "I think it -even irreverent, baron--as an eye-witness of such a revelation must -needs think it." - -"Oh, you think that: well, you are right, too, in your own way," he -answered. "A religion that was based on the senses would not be -displeasing to me, even though somewhat displeasing to reason. Do not -imagine me an enemy of piety. I only meant to suggest that the senses -are not always sure avenues to knowledge. But you, now, believe that you -have seen a revelation, and the dawn of an epoch: well, you are right, -too, in your own fashion." - -As he was thus droning we arrived before Goodford House, and the private -secretary hurried out from a French window where he had been watching, -to hail and greet the baron. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE QUESTION OF STYRIA - - -My half-promise to Mrs Edwards that the miracle should not shorten the -stay of the Langlers at Goodford was too soon given, for on the Tuesday -both Langler and Miss Emily begged me to return at once to Swandale with -them; in fact, quite a number of departures was already proving the -spirit of dissolution at work in the house-party. - -"I do pity Aubrey," Miss Emily said aside to me on the Tuesday night: -"there he stands smiling like a statue, but I know that he is tasting -bitterness in the very valley. To any scholar of forty years it must be -no fun to have to change his scheme of thought and life on a sudden; so -what this miracle, or whatever you call it, must mean to Aubrey's touchy -intellect and tremulous piety is more than I care to think on. Anyway it -is certain that he must be in agony in his present company, and longing -to be alone." - -"Yes, that must be so," I agreed. "Well, let us go away, for we all need -time and solitude to find room in ourselves for this new thing." - -"Oh, as for me," she said, "I am in no rage to adjust myself to it: my -soul can wait till _his_ has won back to rest. Being a woman, I am less -sensitive to evidence, you see, and tougher in the nerve; but poor -Aubrey's elements are delicately mixed, and ah, he suffers." - -"I understand that," I said; "perhaps it would be even well if I -returned to London for the present." - -She looked at me, saying: "don't say that; he needs you now, and wishes -you to stay." - -"And you?" I asked. - -"Not what I will," she answered softly in Greek, "but what he." - -We accordingly returned to Swandale from Goodford on the Thursday -morning. But something of the old Sabbath was soon known now to have -departed from our habit of life in the cottage, for the roar of the age -reached even into our cloister, hampering the mood of that old world -which we wished to inhabit. The very servants had new looks of unrest. -Langler smiled doggedly, but was as one who ruminates bitterish herbage. -He was much alone, questioning the oracles in the dells or in his study; -and Miss Emily and I were much with each other. - -She at least knew little quietness in those days, I think: I would spy -her hanging about the door behind which her brother paced, and her fever -about his state of mind became chronic. "The visits of this man must be -terrible to him," she said of some sort of police-official from London -who called about the happenings at Hallam Castle on the Sunday night of -the miracle; Robinson had left no trace behind: so poor Langler was -plied with questions, without having the least faith probably that the -man with the note-book would see light where he himself saw none. And -"it is so distressing," Miss Emily said to me during the third of the -visits; "he keeps Aubrey closeted an hour, and he is not pretty, his -boots creak. I only wish that Aubrey could be coaxed into some change of -scene; you ought to be able to get him to Paris, if you try. Have you -noticed that for four days he has burned no incense at all in his -rooms?" - -"I wonder why?" I said. - -"Perhaps he thinks it unbecoming now--I don't know; and he hasn't once -played the usual chants since we have been back from Goodford. The old -attitude to everything has to be all changed, twisted, readjusted, now. -Deus meus! in what foreign world have we suddenly waked up?" - -"Patience!" I said: "in time the new way will be seen to be the best." - -"But the old pleases Cato all the same," she muttered, with a nod of -stubbornness which belonged to her; "it is to be desired at least that -the new way was not complicated by officers of the law." - -As to this officer, Langler himself spoke to me that same evening when I -happened to be in his study, saying: "you saw, Arthur, the officer who -called to-day?" - -"Yes," I answered, "I am afraid he must have bored you to death." - -"Well, he means well," he answered, "and we are none of us perfect in -grace and wisdom. This man in particular must be very impressed just now -with the limitations of our human intelligence, for he stands almost -ludicrously dumfoundered before the facts which we know about Robinson; -dumfoundered, above all, before the fact that Robinson should have been -shown to me in an unconscious state at Hallam Castle at the hour of -seven-fifteen, and in that state should have been conveyed away through -a peopled countryside without being seen, though by eight P.M. the -constabulary had been warned by me, and have been searching for him ever -since. Before the failure to find _some_ trace the mind stands as -staggered as if in the presence of unearthly agents. To the questions -Where is Robinson now? in a house? in the grave? conscious? still -unconscious? why can he contrive to give no sign? our minds can begin to -form no guess. Well, we are a small infantry, just wise enough to learn -to be meek, and of few days, and full of trouble. But what I wanted to -tell you as to this officer is that I took occasion to lay before him -all we know about Father Max Dees in his Styrian dungeon, and to ask -what I could do for this poor man." - -I had forgotten Max Dees in the excitement of what had lately happened! -"Well, what did the officer advise?" I asked. - -"He seemed unreceptive of the whole matter," was the answer: "to people -of stolid minds the unique is apt to seem unreal; and the mere fact that -our knowledge of Dees was brought us by a wren appeared to obstruct this -man's concern in the case. However, he remarked with truth that we had -no evidence that, of the three Barons Gregor, the one whom we suspect is -really the gaoler of Dees; that, in any case, the English police have -nothing to do with the incident; but that, with regard to the Austrian -authorities, my best course before approaching them is to 'make sure of -the facts.' In truth, he doesn't half believe in Dees--the wren being to -blame. The man actually recommended me, with a smile, to go myself to -Styria in order to 'make sure of the facts.'" - -"Well, that might be done," I said: "by all means let us go, for I would -go, too." - -Langler looked at me, and smiled, hardly taking me seriously, I fancy. - -But this question of "going to Styria" was destined, alas, to arise -again. The very next (Sunday) morning, in the breakfast-room, Miss -Emily, to my surprise, said to me: "who, then, is Max Dees?" - -As I knew that nothing had been told her of the wren's message, I could -only think that she had overheard Langler's talk with me on the -Saturday evening, and, anyway, had now to tell her all--of Dees' -imprisonment, of his prayer "_for God's sake_," of our almost certainty -that Baron Kolár was his gaoler, of the paper found at the inn at Mins -stating that "Dr Burton is another Max Dees," of the disappearances, -like Robinson's, which Langler had found to have been going on over -Europe, and so on. That morning Langler had not risen from bed--he had -flutters of the heart--so I had time to tell a long tale, to which Miss -Emily listened without comment, and remained museful throughout the day. - -In the evening we were all at Ritching church to hear Dr Burton's -farewell before his departure for Lincoln, and I don't know who took -care of Swandale during the office, for Langler was now most strict in -having every soul about the place at each church-service. He had risen -from bed, and we three walked somewhat ahead, with the knot of retainers -following. I have an idea that in some recess of Miss Emily's mind these -church-goings were not regarded with emotions quite utterly saintly; but -whatever resentment rankled in her she breathed no word of it, but went -meekly in the pilgrimages with her brother. - -We had started out early, so as to secure seats, and far off, as we -walked down the road to Ritching, out broke the shambling brogue of the -chimes. I thought then how, when Langler and I last heard those bells -together, he had said that we heard them for "about the last time," and -thenceforth all the evening there were ringing in my head like a -sing-song the words: "[Greek: kai pulai adou, kai pulai adou]--and gates -of hell shall not prevail against it." When we reached the church it was -already full; but in the end I fancy that seats were found for all the -Swandale party, though we were all separated throughout the office. - -Dr Burton was assisted in the duty by his diocesan and two others, but -spoke the address in person. His manner, I judged, was most meek, his -throat choked, as of a man who has been struck dumb and has not yet -recovered himself: I, in a seat far back, could hardly hear his words, -though once, twice, as it were, the lion's voice lifted and vaunted a -little, threatening wraths. However, one had little need to hear, in -order to feel, Dr Burton that night, for his holiness by itself was as a -focus of fire, pouring forth its power into all. - -When it was ended, and our set met once more beyond the crowd, Miss -Emily said to me: "three-quarters of these folk have never seen Ritching -before; half are from London: I saw Lady Agnew, the President of the -Academy, and Dr Gootch, who has Aubrey's heart in his keeping. What do -you say brought all these good people here?" - -Her manner of speaking, I must say, seemed to me rather dry, and I -answered shortly: "a pious need, no doubt." - -"Not a hope to see in Dr Burton's church a repetition of the 'miracle'?" -she asked: "not the lust of a new thrill?" - -"How you can be cruel!" I whispered. - -"But what went they out for to _see_?" she laughed. "Wherever Dr Burton -preaches henceforth all England will be squeezing after him in the -secret hope of a peep-show! and I prophesy----" But at that moment -Langler joined us, and she was mum. - -It was a gloomy night, without any moonlight, and during our return to -Swandale groups of wayfarers trudged before and behind us, a strange -sight, quite changing the mood of the countryside. Night, however, in -the country merges everything in an enchantment, and in Swandale itself -was once more nothing but fays and black shades. But even there, just as -we were crossing the bridge to enter the cottage, a messenger from the -world intruded to trouble us. It was a boy who brought a telegram--for -me--which on going in I opened, and read the words: "Two fresh visions -reported--one in village-church, Windau, Baltic, one in Bayeux -Cathedral." It had been sent to me from London by a good friend of mine, -the editor of a morning paper, and I handed it to Langler, who, having -read it, handed it to Miss Emily. - -It was at that moment that a thing new, I think, to Swandale took -place--a spark of anger, a flush of the cheek: for Miss Emily, tossing -the telegram aside even as she read it, let the heated words escape -her: "oh, I am like Baron Kolár: I don't believe in miracles"; and then -for the first time I saw Langler look with reproof at his sister. - -"Emily," said he pointedly, "your words seem to me irreverent." - -Miss Emily's cheek blanched. There was silence for a little while. - -"Emily," said Langler again, "I ask you to take back those words." - -Miss Emily sat down sharply on a chair by the table, having on still her -hat and gloves, the little bird perched on her shoulder, her lips set. -She answered nothing, and another most painful silence followed. I, for -my share, did not know what to say, or where to hide myself away from -such a scene so suddenly sprung upon us. I wished that the unhappy -telegram had never come. - -But after a minute of this silence Miss Emily's pallor rushed into pink, -and the words broke from her in a heat not far from choking, and a -strain of tears: "so, then, I am to abase my intellect before the -incredible at your bidding, Aubrey! Then, I will say that I _do_ believe -in miracles, since such is your pleasure, Aubrey, but that I do _not_ -believe in this one." - -"But this is precisely the only one that was ever well attested," said -Langler, with a puzzled brow. - -"Then, it is my whim to believe in the ill-attested, Aubrey, rather than -in this," said Miss Emily, "since we are in the Inquisition, Aubrey, and -expected to believe in miracles." She stopped a moment, and then went -on, pouring out her words chokily, with stoppages: "I did not see the -thing, I am not gainsaying my own senses, and to be charged with -irreverence, Aubrey! Why was I not allowed to see it? Why were not you? -To be charged with irreverence, Aubrey! The thing is not, so to say, -'the work of God'; it is related to the disappearance of Charles -Robinson and of Father Max Dees, and of all the others, and to these two -new 'miracles'--and Baron Kolár foreknew that it would happen in Dr -Burton's church when he foretold Dr Burton's rise. And to be charged -with irreverence, Aubrey! If you wish to find out the meaning of it all, -go to a castle in Styria, for that is where the key lies--" and some -more of this kind: guesses without proof, statements without form, but -so sprung in a pile upon our minds that Langler and I stood dumb before -them. - -Thus, at any rate, for the second time in two days, those words: "go to -Styria," were broached in the cottage: a seed of bitter reaping. - -Miss Emily went to a casement, and stood there looking out, while upon -me Langler turned a look which I took to imply surprise that I should -have spoken to her of Max Dees. For some minutes nothing was said; but -presently Langler moved to the window, and laid his hand upon his love; -whereat she heaved up to him a smile which beamed with beatitude: and at -this I slipped away. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -MISS LANGLER OUTRAGED - - -So peace was made. However, Langler did not sup with Miss Emily and me -that night, nor was it till one P.M. of the next day that I saw him -again, looking rather haggard, and it was then, for the first time (not -the last!), that he made me the announcement that he would go to Styria. - -"Yes," he said, "I will go." - -"Well, and I also, Aubrey," I said. - -"That is like you, Arthur," he answered. "Ah, yes, it is a high -mountain, this, but I say that it shall be climbed." - -"A short journey," I said. "When do we start?" - -"At once," he answered, "while the grimness of it is upon us." - -"To-morrow, then?" - -"It shall be done!" said he; "but let us hasten slowly: Emily has first -to be won over." - -"Oh, I think that that will be all right," I answered, for I knew that -Miss Emily desired a change for him. - -"She _may_ be alarmed," he said; "in any case, the question must be -broached to her by degrees." - -I answered nothing, but thought to myself: "then, it will be another -week before we start." - -He did not mention to me the grounds of this impulse to "go to Styria," -but I assumed that the words of his sister, random as they were, had -roused and set him furiously thinking, as they had set me. Indeed, the -miracle had been very numbing to the intellect, as it were bludgeoning -one's head, so I was glad to notice that afternoon an almost playfulness -in Langler during a visit of Miss Jane and Miss Lizzie (Chambers), for -it seemed to show that nature in him was at last roused to cast off a -gloom which it found unbearable. - -Still, this new gaiety of his was certainly a little forced, a little -distempered. I was rather puzzled. Once when Miss Emily left the room, -Langler seemed only to have waited for this in order to say to the -Misses Chambers: "I am on the very verge of a voyage to Styria." - -"Styria!" they said together. - -"What, is Styria so remote?" asked Langler, leaning forward with a -quizzing look. "I didn't say China, I said Styria--a two days' journey -by the new rail-trains, with 'every luxury' _en route_! Do you imagine, -then, that you will never see me again?" - -"But can he be serious?" asked one of the ladies over her tea-cup: -"Emily said nothing of it." - -"Emily does not happen to know!" cried Langler--"that is something in -store for Emily!" - -"Then it is hardly a serious intention, since Emily has not yet been -told." - -"Who lives will see if it is serious!" said Langler. - -"But Styria," said one of the ladies--"Styria sounds so mythical! Why -Styria?" - -"To open the eyes of the blind," said Langler in a deep voice, "to set -at liberty them that are bound!" - -The ladies exchanged glances; but before any more could be said Miss -Emily came in with a plate of seeds, and Langler sat up straight. - -Now, before this, Miss Jane and Miss Lizzie had been giving the story of -Baron Kolár's visits; one afternoon lately, they said, the baron had -come down from London merely to eat their toast; and they expected him -again soon. This being so, I was surprised that Langler should be so -unbridled as to publish to them his going to Styria to set free the -baron's prisoner! To this day I am at a loss to understand him, though I -suppose that he was somewhat distempered by the late events, and in a -state of unreal levity. And the very next afternoon, when one of the -Benedictines of Up Hatherley, an old college friend, called at the -cottage, to him, too, Langler told his intention of "starting at once -for Styria." All this time he had said not a word of it to Miss Emily, -so that I found myself doubting whether his intention could be serious. -When at last Miss Emily heard that we should _perhaps_ be going, it was -I who told it her in confidence. - -That was just a week after Langler had assured me that his mind was made -up to go: and it was during the evening of that same day on which I told -Miss Emily of it that a group of Spanish peasants, moving homeward in -the gloaming through some fields between the villages of Guardo and -Villalba, in Palencia, saw wrought in mid-air by a mountain side a -vision of the crucifixion, and dropped to the ground. I was in my own -rooms when a message of it was brought me. It was after dinner; Miss -Emily had gone to Ritching to see some sick, and when I went to look for -Langler I heard that he, too, was not in the house. However, I presently -found him down in the south-west, in a grape-arbour near the abbey, and -handed him the telegram without a word. He, as he read it, rose slowly -from his seat, with a paleness under the skin; for the news of these -events had always the same effect upon the mind--awe mixed with a very -peculiar ecstasy--which did not diminish with repetition, for with each -new alarm I was anew imbued with the same dream of the wind-up and term -of the drama of time and the trumps of the tribunes of eternity. I saw -the telegram tremble in Langler's hand; I heard him murmur: "another." - -"Yes," I said, "another--the fourth." And I cried out: "Oh, Aubrey! -where do we stand?" - -He made no answer; his head was bowed; till presently he said: "let us -go! why do we delay? let us go to-morrow." - -"But am I not ready?" I cried. - -"That is settled, then," said he: "we go. Emily shall hear it this -night, and to-morrow we turn our backs upon Swandale and all our life -here. It shall be done now." - -"I am sure that you will be none the worse for it," I said. - -"On the contrary," said he, "for ease and sloth are the very bane of the -soul, Arthur, believe me. It is putting out from port to rough it that -braces the ship's timbers! Well, let us launch forth: I at least am -ready. So there is another now--the fourth." - -"The fourth." - -"From _Heaven_, Arthur?" - -"Or from hell." - -"Ah, talking of hell," said he, "just come now with me, and I will show -you something in that tone." - -He left the arbour, and I went with him down a dell towards the -south-east of Swandale, till, near the great gate, he stopped at a -certain larch tree on a brook's bank, peered at its bark, and pointed to -it. It was already rather dark, but I, looking close, saw carved in -large letters in the trunk the two words: "Don't Go." - -"You see it?" asked Langler: "it was pointed out to me yesterday by -John. You see, now, you see...." - -I kept on gazing at the carving, while Langler looked at me, smiling, -with his arms akimbo; and I thought to myself: "what a pity that our -intention of going was ever divulged!" - -"Someone seeks a quarrel with me, Arthur," said Langler: "you see now, -you see. But perhaps I do not look dismayed." - -"Of course not," I murmured. - -"Let them threaten me," he said, "let them do their worst! They may find -me of grimmer make than their present delusions of me conceive me. Wait, -you shall see me give them their fit answer now." - -"But why?" I cried: "no, Aubrey, pray, don't think of carving anything -there"--for I saw him opening a pen-knife. - -But he would not listen to me: "Allow me," he said, coming to the tree. -I could do nothing to stop him, and stooping there during ten minutes, -he carved under "Don't Go" the words "I Will." I was astonished at his -conduct, and still cannot understand what end he imagined would be -served by this ataxic defiance. - -That same night he spoke to Miss Emily of our voyage, and from the next -morning the business of making ready began. But this was not soon over! -I had imagined that the packing of a trunk would be almost all: but -Langler had many orders to give, and letters of farewell to write to his -churchmen and wardens and fellows and professors; and by three in the -afternoon it was seen that we could not go that day. Nor could we go the -next, for Langler rose from bed with a pain in the heart and a pallor -under his skin, and toward evening said to me in his study: "it seems -callow, Arthur, for us to set out upon this enterprise without seeing -our way before us: let us hasten more slowly, and at least provide -ourselves with the proper introductions to people abroad." - -"But isn't it rather a question of _time_, Aubrey?" I asked, for it -began to seem to me that if we hastened any more slowly we should never -get to Styria. - -"Yes, most decidedly, it is a question of time," said he, "and each day -that passes is such a care and qualm to me, such a disease and -harassment, that if I break down under it, you won't wonder. Would that -we were already gone--that we had gone long ago! Oh, Arthur, am I never -to know sweet quiet and peace of heart again?" - -I was taken aback! poor Langler said this with so much heart; nor did I -quite understand ... since a voyage to Styria to make some inquiries did -not seem to me such a task. Langler, of course, was an autochthon--had -never been farther than Paris!--and I understood that he was loth to -tear himself from his Armenian cushions, his roses, and the Greekish old -routine of life in Swandale; but still, I could not see.... Each mind, -however, knows the bitter tang of its own plight and entanglement. - -"Well, well," I said, "but we have only to set out and you will feel -better." - -"I know it full well!" he answered, "but each day's delay has only made -our departure the more irksome to me. If we had set out at once, as I -begged you to, all our difficulties would by now perhaps have solved -themselves. But when I think of that poor man in his dungeon, and of how -each of the days which we have wasted here may be an age of pain to him, -and of how much hangs upon our action--how much!--my limbs seem bound, -and my sense of my guilt becomes hard to bear." - -"Perhaps it is the heat of these last few days," I said. - -"Certainly it has been hot," he answered: "one can hardly get one's -breath; and to venture at such a time into southern lands----" - -"Ah, but there is the sea-voyage," I said; "let us not think of -obstacles, let us just go: _solvitur faciendo_." - -"You are right," he cried, "right! That is just the word that we -needed--_solvitur faciendo_! thanks for that word. Oh, Arthur, we have -lost time--time that never comes back--the angel with the parting look. -And think of what world-business depends upon us--so much. For mercy's -sake, let us lose no more." - -"That is agreed, then," I said: "we set out." - -"But to what?" he asked suddenly. "We take a voyage into mist! Where -exactly are we going to? What shall we do when there? Nothing is clear -to me. Suppose we go and effect nothing, and have to return like -Quixotes? Suppose there is no Max Dees, no Styrian castle, save in our -brains? Shall we leave Emily alone, and our solid good.... Really, -Arthur, a certain terror of the absurd is mixed for me with the other -obstructions to this adventure." - -"But that is what the police-officer thought of Dees," I said, "that he -is a myth, and you called him stolid. What you were sure of now seems -mist to you when it becomes a question of venturing your weight upon it, -as Peter lost faith when he stepped out on the waves. But even if it is -a myth, let us go and see, fearing nothing, not even the absurd." - -"Well, that is bravely said, too," he answered: "let us go, then, let us -go.... But tell me whether you do not think it better to get letters to -the foreign personages first, and not go crudely like birds migrating -without due support." - -"As you please," I said, and said no more, for I did not see that we -needed any letters. - -However, he wrote for letters, and it was some days--I forget how -many--before he had all of the number which he asked for. By this time -our date of departure, our very train, had been fixed by Miss Emily, it -was now three weeks since Langler had first mooted his idea of going, -and by now scores of persons all about must have known that he was -going, and when. - -During the day before our departure Langler gave a last look to every -part of Swandale, and re-entering the house near five P.M., had tea with -Miss Emily and me. We were having tea when I heard a noise in a -corridor, and on asking was told by Miss Emily that it was "Aubrey's -trunks being taken to the station." I could not at first understand why -they were being taken that night till, on glancing through the door, I -saw almost a cartload of baggage (swelled by books!). Miss Emily and I, -standing at a window, she with the wren on her shoulder, watched all -this luggage being put upon a cart--Langler had now left the room--and -driven away; but a minute after it had gone Miss Emily, crying out -something, ran from my side, and out of the cottage. I saw her hurry -across the bridge, heard her call after the driver, who had disappeared, -and soon she too disappeared beyond the bridge. - -I assumed that she had run to give the man some forgotten instruction, -and expected her back soon; but when she did not come I was not at all -anxious, since I had no reason to be so. I was reading Bellarmine, I -remember, in a wicker chair that rocked me, and it became so dark that -I could hardly see the print. I heard Langler playing Gregorian chants -on the organ in the oratory, for he had the habit of playing chants -about that hour of the evening, but had rather given it up since the -miracles. - -Well, I was thus reading in the half dark when, suddenly, a man stood -before me--the driver of the cart, who, having left the luggage at the -station, was now returned. He seemed unable to speak: if ever I saw awe -it was in that man's face; when I asked: "what is it?" his breath burst -from his lips in his vain effort to answer me; his face rolled with -sweat. At last when he was able to say something, it was in the words: -"Miss Langler--come with me--don't say anything----" - -I sped with him past two astonished girls in the passage out of the -cottage, he taking the way to the south-east, but having already run far -he had now to make stoppages, and so hard he found it to speak that we -had gone over a quarter of a mile, and were near the great gate, before -I could gather from him aught of what was in his mind. He had led me -down a path that ran between a brook and a rose-tree hedge, till we were -within sight of the carriage-road, and there in a sort of glade, where a -larch stood by the brook's bank, he stopped, and pointed--the same larch -on which had been carved "Don't Go" and Langler's "I Will." At the foot -of the tree, in a patch of reeds, I saw a female form lying like one -asleep, or unconscious, or dead. It was my poor Miss Emily. When I -peered nearer I perceived that her left hand had been pegged to the tree -by a big nail. But she did not know it, nor reck, she lay in sleep, -without any pain or care, her lips a little open, and two poor tears of -her truce had trickled down her cheeks. - -While I was still gloating over her I was aware, to my woe, that Langler -was with us: one of the girls in the house, on seeing me run out, must -have warned him of something wrong, and he had hasted at a rounder rate, -though a sorry runner, than the exhausted man who had brought me could -come; but the effort had been altogether too large for Aubrey's gauge: -he was awfully breathed and gaunt. I saw him stand off, peering gingerly -at his dear, asking: "_what is it_?" with his cheeks peaked up, poor -Aubrey: and I had to leave her pierced, in order to turn to him. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -CANTERBURY - - -After this weeks passed before we knew whether Miss Emily would live or -die, and the existence of Max Dees and of Styria was forgotten in -Swandale, for our poor friend took a delirious fever, and had three -relapses, so we others dragged our lives through many a black day while -hers hung in the balance: weeks of watching: leaving not much -outstanding in the memory, save the fact of a certain new quarry--a puny -affair perhaps, but for ever associated in my mind with the nightmare of -that time, and somehow lending to it a strange awfulness; for it -happened that someone had lately opened a quarry some miles north of -Swandale, and was blasting the rock: so fifteen, twenty times a day we -would hear it, not loud, but clear, a knock at the north door of heaven, -and two seconds later an answer sounded in the south of heaven: and each -time Langler would look at me with such a smile. So that this sound of -blasting, all mingled as it was with Miss Langler's fight for life, has -still for me whenever I hear it meanings the most momentous, as it were -rumours of the guns and din of Armageddon, and the arbitrament of the -doom of being. In the end, however, I managed to make terms with the -owner, and the noises ceased. - -About the same time--_i.e._ towards the end of the year--hope brightened -for our wounded friend, and my mind found some breathing-space to think -out what I could do for her brother, who had been very gravely shocked -and cowed. After a time I would get him into his study at night, and -there read to him his accumulated correspondence, with a view to weaning -his thoughts from a room three corridors away; for the letters, being -mainly from men in the whirlpool, were full of history, and such as to -reawaken his interest in things. Also I insisted upon answers to some of -them being dictated to me; and also, at last, I read to him a little -from books and newspapers. - -At midnight of Christmas Day I was thus reading to him through the noise -of the cascade, made noisier that night by stormy weather, when he said: -"Europe and America, then, are again Christian in an ancient sense. How -many visions in all have now been seen?" - -I found among the newspapers on our half-round settle one containing a -list of the miracles, with their dates, and saw that their number was -twenty-three. - -At this Langler seemed to wince, and we sat cowering over our wood fire -in a bitter rumination, till after a while he said: "I have nothing to -do with the defect in the world's fate, and don't wish to cause my -voice to be any more heard: but still, Arthur, consider how the sins of -nations do find them out." - -I was pleased at his new tone of interest, but said that I did not know -to what he referred. - -"I refer," he answered, "to this proposed 'weeding out' of our refuse -populations by the 'lethal chamber' method, and to the growth among men -of a certain brute directness with which the nineteenth century was less -tainted. Mind you, I interfere in nothing; but don't let us hide from -each other the existence in our minds of certain ghastly suspicions with -regard to these visions; and if such a thing can be, however -large-minded the motive, think of it, Arthur! The growth of such a brute -directness can only be the penalty, subtle yet terrible, of some sin in -the body politic; nor is any seer needed to see that that sin is the -mere discussion of such a step as this wholesale 'weeding out' of men's -lives." - -"I, too," I said, "have felt that such a thing was brutalising." - -"But it is beastly!" he hissed. "Man's evolution, certainly, is -henceforth in his own hands; but to want to beget taller sons with a -strain of the thug in their blood! It is an instance, and a chief cause, -of that brute directness which is tainting society, which perhaps -culminates in these miracles, which I myself have experienced----" - -"Never mind," I murmured. - -"To strike me through _her_----" - -I said quickly: "but this purpose of 'weeding out' the submerged seems -to have died since the miracles, for the people are now Christian, -Aubrey, in deed as well as in creed." - -"But before we rejoice, let us ask for how long!" said he. "If what we -have dared to suspect of the miracles--that they may be none--be true, -is it not probable that they involve some plot unfriendly to the Church? -We have sure knowledge, for that matter, that someone who need not be -named between us is no friend of churches. Since, therefore, the Church -flourishes by the miracles, it can only be, _if_ there is a plot against -her, that the miracles will in time be shown to be none: in which case, -think of the moral swing back, huge enough perhaps to wreck the frame of -society." - -I said nothing, and for some time we bent over the fire in a silence of -wormwood. - -"_Is_ there a plot?" he began again: "if there is, I believe with her -who lies hurt that the key to it may be found in a castle of--Austria. -But anon, when I remember that we here are the only three in the world -into whom such a doubt has entered, it strikes me as even impious----" - -"There is also Rivers who doubts," I said. "Lidcott, by the way, has -written you an account of Rivers' secession and 'new religion' in -Littlemore--a 'religion' with a following of six! Lidcott's letter also -contains one from Burton about Rivers' secession: I'll read it you now, -if you like." - -"Well, then," said he; so I got and read the letters. - -Rivers was an Oriel man of very brilliant reputation, one of the younger -group of leaders of the so-called "Liberal Movement"--a church-party -which had been making some noise in the world just before the miracles; -he was a contemporary of Langler and myself, so we were familiar with -his personality and church-idea, which had been called "anti-romantic"; -he was one of the warmest admirers of Langler's criticism, and had set -to sweet minor music some of Langler's songs. Well, when the miracles -began, Ambrose Rivers, alone of thinkers, for some reason or other broke -off from the Church, and started a new "religion" in Littlemore--with a -following of six; and Dr Lidcott's letter to Langler was a description -of this new flight of Rivers', containing also the following from Dr -Burton: "The Chancery, Lincoln, In Festo Sanct. F. Xav. My dear -Lidcott,--The tragedy of Rivers has been as great a heaviness to me as -to you and the rest; how mysterious, too, now, when our Light is come. -Can nothing be done even now? It was a branch loaded with flowers and -fruit, and though the very canker was in them, it is hard to see it -lopped off at a stroke. Do reason with him, then, still a little; but, -if he be obdurate and damned in error, you will leave him to the -tormentors, warning him that the day is even at hand when Holy Church -will no longer spare dissent and rebellion, but everywhere on the front -of that chief of crimes will brand her effective anathema. Verbum caro -factum est, et habitavit in nobis. Farewell. On the 13th inst. I leave -this for St Paul's. Miserere mei, Deus, asperge me, Domine, hyssopo, et -mundabor; and you, pray for me.--In haste, yours faithfully in Xt., John -Burton." - -"Well," said Langler when I had read the two letters, "but Rivers' doubt -of the miracles is due to some trait of a wayward mind, if not to some -wisdom of the man's really divine genius; but in our case the doubt has -grown out of facts which have come before us, and since those facts are -very meagre I say that _our_ doubt sometimes strikes me as impious. I -think, however, that it will be justified if Dr Burton's rise so -continues as strikingly to fulfil the prophecy that he is 'destined to -be the greatest of churchmen.'" - -"Oh, you think that," I said. - -"Yes," said he; "for, _if_ there is a plot, there is no difficulty about -divining its purposes: we can say with assurance that those purposes -are, firstly, to raise the Church to the height of power, in which case -what she will surely do was foreseen: she will become harsh, will clash -with the modern spirit. And to make this clash doubly certain a number -of brisk churchmen would naturally be chosen out by the plotters to -become generals of the Church--of whom Burton was chosen for England. It -_is_ so. For we read of Burton: 'I am sure that he will do for England: -he is another Max Dees, as arrogant as he is brilliant, a union of -Becket and Savonarola.' Now, it is clear that the 'Savonarola' and the -'brilliance' in Burton are one, and the 'Becket' and the 'arrogance' are -one: for who was Becket? an arch-priest who flouted the civil power. -Therefore, _if_ there is a plot--for I state nothing, I interfere in -nothing--_if_ there is one, I say that the Church is to be pushed to -clash with the civil power. And now suppose, secondly, that at the -height of that clash the miracles be shown to be none; and suppose -further, thirdly, that it be then made to appear that these false -miracles were contrived not by the enemies of the Church for her ruin, -but by churchmen themselves for their own rise and rule: well, -then--what then?... And shall no man be found to meddle in this, one -with heart, head, hand, Arthur, though a sword pierce his own heart?" - -"_I_ mean to meddle in it somehow," I said suddenly. - -"Beware, however, Arthur," he murmured. "I too feel the _muth_ to -venture--if it be not already too late.... In any case, let us hasten -slowly, and wait till our doubt acquires some little certitude. I say -that something of certitude will be ours, if Dr Burton's rise becomes -so marked----" - -"But surely, Aubrey," I said, "we need not wait for that. Look at things -in Germany and Russia, look at France: in France ever since the -Separation Act, the Church was a dead thing; then came the miracles, and -to-day France is on her knees. It is touching: there never was an age so -hungry for faith. This week there have been eleven pilgrimages in France -alone to the spots of the miracles--caravans counting their hundreds of -thousands. Things have been moving, you know. Italy is more a theocracy -now than under Alexander VI.; one quarter of the Austrian Abgeordneten -House is already given over to churchmen; in our own election in October -forty people of churchman type were tided into Parliament, and in the -Lords the bishops awe, so how it would be there under Dr Burton one may -imagine; when Burton was preaching at St Paul's crowds vaster than the -cathedral could contain waited all the night through--nowhere, it seems, -are there enough churches, and women hourly swoon in the crowds round -certain churches; not a few rich men have stripped themselves to endow -the Church; as for charity, here is the high day of Christ's sick and -needy: everyone is giving apparently, everyone is muttering -prayers--merchants over their cargoes, doctors over their charges; in -November two New York negroes, by pretending to have seen the vision on -a country-road, and asking for funds to open a church, became vastly -rich, and now have disappeared; even the bourses have caught the -rapture, gambling is going out, all sorts of personal oddities of -behaviour and costume abound, as in Puritan days, saints arise, -newspapers no more print certain kinds of matter, in the Commons during -prayers members are as if in pews; as for the Nonconformists, they are -hardly any longer even the political clubs and caucuses which they had -become, since most of them have gone over to the Church of the miracles. -If you would bear to hear me read, you would see for yourself the -millionfold modification of everything. A certain Father Mathieu, in -whose church at Windau the second of the visions appeared, is followed -by multitudes to be healed by his touch; while the once Vicar-Apostolic -of Bayeux, a man of Burton's very temper, is now Metropolitan of Paris. -It was about him, by the way, that I wanted to tell you, for since _his_ -rise is complete, we needn't wait for Dr Burton's to become so, in order -to get that certitude as to a plot----" - -"Well, let that be so," said Langler; "but ah, Arthur, what touch shall -be found, both gentle and strong, to heal all this fevered world? If the -Master were indeed here, with the stars of night in his eyes! As for me, -I confess, my longing is for escape. I have read a tale of a tiny world -which struck our earth, tore up a field or two, and carried off someone -into space----think of _that_!--the dumb empyrean, the leisure to be a -man, the starry dream, and in those grassy graves, too, of Ritching -churchyard----" - -"But things are as they are," I murmured; "we can't escape them." - -"True," he answered; "life is a sterner dreaming than dreams, but surely -a diviner; and in His plan be our good." - -"Well, then," said I, "this being so, what I, for myself, propose to do -now is to write a letter to the Styrian authorities, stating what I know -of Father Max Dees, and giving hints as to the place of his -imprisonment, without breaking any law of libel. Dees may thus be -liberated; whereupon, if he knows anything of a plot, he will divulge -it." - -"Well, we might think that over," said Langler, "and see if we find it -to be our duty." - -In the end this was determined upon between us, and from the next -morning I set about it, writing first to consult my solicitors as to the -proper authority to whom to address ourselves: this, they answered, was -the Public Safety Bureau of Upper Styria; so Langler and I set to work -to draw up the document, and on the 7th of January it was posted. - -This work quite warmed us anew, and we were eager for a reply, sometimes -discussing whether it would come in one week, in two, or in three: but a -month passed, Miss Emily was being allowed to sit up, and no reply had -come. - -Those were the days when England was at the height of the excitement -over the disappearance of the Bishop of Bristol. On the death, three -weeks before, of Archbishop Kempe, the question who would succeed him -had raised a simmering of interest, not in church-circles only, but in -the nation: a very distinguished Cambridge man was a rumour, also Dr -Todhunter, Bishop of Bristol, while Dr Burton, now Bishop of Winchester, -was the popular choice. For us at Swandale, however, only two of these -were really in the running, for we lived too near to Goodford not to -know that Mr Edwards would never of his free will set such a spirit as -Burton over the province of Canterbury. Edwards' majority in the House -was now only twenty-three, and, apart from that, everything in him shied -at Dr Burton's whole State-idea and order of mind; so when Dr -Todhunter's appointment was made known Langler said to me, "you see, -now, it is as we said." - -Three days after Edwards' letter of invitation to Dr Todhunter the -doctor wrote to Langler, stating that he had accepted the primacy, and -closing with a very tender reference to our wounded friend. We two had -known and loved him since undergraduate days, and Langler in particular -had a kind of devotion for the classicism of his style and preaching. -Who, in fact, that ever knew him could fail to revere him? When only -fifty his mass of hair was quite wool-white, and no saintlier face, -surely, ever lifted towards the skies. Well, his election by -dean-and-chapter had taken place by the 17th of February; on the 19th -the archbishop elect took a trip to London, meaning to be back in -Bristol by the 21st; but from the hour of two P.M. on the 20th nothing -appears ever to have been seen of him. At that hour of two--high -daytime!--the old man parted from the Rev. William Vaux, Dean of the -Arches, on the pavement in Whitehall, and--walked away into nothingness; -nor, I think, has one ray of real light ever been thrown upon his -disappearance. - -I can almost feel again, as I write, the mood of those days. One -sometimes lost control of oneself! one had seizures of excitement, could -hardly utter one's words! Langler in particular was strongly moved: his -cheek at one spot would go pale, and quiver. By the 24th or 25th we at -Swandale began to understand that Dr Todhunter would never more be seen; -and I said then: "No! he will never more be seen; and in two months from -to-day--wait and see!--Dr Burton will be primate of England." - -"But will he _consent_?" asked Langler, pale with excitement: "does he -not already--_suspect_? Will he plug up both his ears against _a hundred -whispers_ that already throng in his consciousness?" - -What grounds Langler had for assuming these "hundred whispers" in Dr -Burton's consciousness I do not know; but, if it was a guess, it may -have been a shrewd one, for I have seen a letter of Burton's written -about then, in which _twice_, occurs a certainly very suggestive prayer -against "the deceitful man": "ab homine iniquo et doloso erue me"--twice -in one letter. - -However this was, it was soon beyond doubt that Dr Burton would not only -be invited, but would accept the primacy. The rumour grew and grew. The -Prime Minister, in fact, must have been under the strongest pressure to -invite Burton, and after a struggle with fate, with his hair, and with -the wire-pullers, had to give in. Mrs Edwards herself, who drove over -one afternoon from Goodford, told us so much; and by the middle of March -it began to be taken for granted that Dr Burton would be metropolitan of -Canterbury. I remember the date very well, for just about that time -Baron Kolár came down to Goodford for one afternoon to repose himself, -to eat the Misses Chambers' toast, and sleep on their sofa, and have his -hair brushed; and it was that same day--either the 14th or 15th of -March--that the weak voice of our friend said to her brother: "you -should go to Styria, since it is so." It was a rough evening, before the -candles were lit, and we two were sitting beside her cane chair by her -fire; and Langler, with his brow bowed over her hand, answered: "yes, I -will go, since I should. We have written a letter to the authorities in -those parts, and are waiting for their answer, but if it does not come -within a week--or two--I shall do as you bid me." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -OUR START - - -Ten more days passed without answer from Styria, and I was daily -awaiting Miss Emily's word: "You should start now." - -She had left her room on the 22nd, and I can see again in fancy our -friend as she was that day, with her hair somewhat lax, and the little -wren on her bosom; she was palish, but one would hardly have thought -that she had come through a great illness, and more laughter than I -could quite account for, than quite pleased me perhaps, was on her lips. - -Those were warm days in which much more than the daffodil had blown in -Swandale, and on the 25th of the month our friend went out of doors. -Towards evening she and I were in the pavilion--for I find that I must -tell something as to her and me, and since I must, will tell it more or -less verbatim, with reporter's blankness, as well as I can remember. We, -then, being in the pavilion (a circular temple at the end of an oblong -of water), she said to me: "those groups of lily-leaves on the lake -looking like ears must remember the music which Aubrey and I made here -most nights last summer. They will never hear us more. We used to sit in -that recess there, and this is the cupboard where we put up the violin -and harp." (A series of cupboards and old chairs went round the wall, -and there were chambers within the thickness of the marble, each with -its big window and seat; in one of the cupboards I saw still a harp in a -bag.) - -"But the water-lilies will hear you and him again, Emily," I answered. - -"Will they? What name shall we give him, Kitty-wren?" she asked of the -bird, "let's call him Mr Hopeful, Mr Butterlips; let's screech him down -with nicknames, Jenny"--whereat the bird from picking at the scab in her -palm broke, as if in answer, into chattering, so that we had to smile: -indeed, this tiny brown being that had come to us so strangely with its -message from Styria, and would never leave us, was seldom silent even in -the winter, and now in the spring would sometimes scatter one's talk -with its showers of music. Miss Emily touched its cocky, short tail, -saying: "Jenny knows! and the water-lilies know, too: they are never to -hear us more. Birds and herbs and women: they are in the original -obiah-dodge, and know what they do know." - -"Women above all," I remember saying, though my heart was sore for her -and for me. - -"Look at her now!" she cried--"perched right atop of the harp, screaming -something: the devil's in the bird, I think--pneuma akatharton echei!" -This she said with a laugh, but when the bird now suddenly hopped upon -her she stepped back from it with grave looks, brushing it off, -murmuring, "get away, you, go"; and at this I found myself bowed over -her drawn left palm, choked with her name; for she was no longer -herself, and feelings surged within me which cannot be told; but as I -held her hand, she first looked gravely at me, and then, to my wonder, -began to hum the common song: "two in a bed," whereat, with playful -reproach, I murmured "Gregorian," and let go her hand. Just then, the -bird settling afresh upon her, she said to it: "well, come then, -Kitty-wren: though you be the banshee, the very moth of death, I sha'n't -shun you--not though your mood be all of shrouds, and of thundery lone -nights in the ground, and good-bye all. Still, you were sick, you know, -and I nursed you, I have fed you, and watered you, and cleaned you, and -tamed you, and loved you, and you have a devil against me, Jenny." - -"Oh, but, Emily," I said, "this little bird begins now to take up too -much of your thoughts!" - -She did not answer me, but remarked thoughtfully: "she has baseness in -her nature; yes, she makes a show of affection, but how flightily she -forsook me that evening! I was just by that whitethorn bush out there, -looking down at the water-lilies, and she was on my left shoulder, when -suddenly she flew away, and before you could say 'Jenny!' a wet cloth -was over my face, my mouth was crammed, and the scream of my being made -no sound in my ears. Yet I have a sort of memory of a man, a masked man, -a lanky man with a stoop, so strong, so rude, dark as death, cruel as -the grave----" - -"But, Emily, you speak of that?" I cried. - -"Aubrey isn't here to hear," she said in a confidential way, "so it is -nothing. Let me talk. There's something in mere blackness without one -ray, in ravines without bottom, in bitterness so bitter that it churns -to cud in the chewing. You don't know how strong he was: I struggled -with him, but I was like a straw in his grasp; and when I felt myself -going, and no succour nor ruth in the world, and the large darkness -glooming, why then I sighed and was reconciled, and I chewed the brash -of the grave like black bread, and it was boon and good to me." - -When I began now to reproach her for such melancholies she hummed a -catch of Langler's-- - - "In its dash - Showers down the rill," - -then at once ran to a window, crying: "look, you can see the whitethorn -from here; I must have been dragged at least forty yards from it----" -but I would no longer hear her, but drawing her down to the window-seat, -said, "hear me, dear Emily: you are not well, you are still far from -well, and for some days I have determined to ask you whether you do not -see that it would be well for you now to end my ordeal. If I have the -right----" - -"Which right, Jenny?" she cried: "here is a young man who wishes to -sleep two in a bed with me--two in a bed, bed, bed, bed, bed! but he -will never sleep two in a bed with _me_, I think." - -At these words I was so alarmed for her and pierced with pain, that I -could only bow my head over her knees, and I used the word "mercy." - -"Mercy?" said she, "is it she who lives in Cuckoo-town? But you have not -waited long." - -"Five years." - -"Is that long? madly, dyingly long?... But it is only four." - -"The fifth has long since begun." - -"Has it? Truly? You might have reminded me!" - -"On the morning when it began I begged of you a rose as symbol, and you -would not give it." - -"Is that so? But perhaps I might have given some forget-me-nots, only -there were none.... You see, there's failure in you somewhere, Arthur, -there's a troubled light about your eyes, you were not born to make a -mother of me: you should buy an urn, Arthur, to blubber in." - -"Well, I must, since you pronounce me so unfortunate," I said; "but -after four years and nearly a half of hope and promise----" - -"Not promise." - -"But of hope so warm----" - -"The conditions remain: I have a brother." "But, Emily, you care----" - -"For him." - -"Alone?" - -"They say the flowers grow fresher on maids' graves, Arthur: have you -ever heard say that?" - -"Yes, but hear me: a day had to come when you must leave Aubrey--only -for a time, only partially--and for over a week it has seemed sure to me -that it is come now. You should be taken from Swandale, you should enter -upon a new life--only for a time. Hear me, Emily: you have been -fearfully ill, nigh to death; turn to me, say that you will come----" - -"_To Styria?_" - -"Styria! Of course, I did not mean Styria." - -"Then, where does the man mean, Kitty-wren?" cried she: "he is talking -in Nephelo-coccugia, he hears a toll and thinks it a marriage-bell, I am -sure he is bewitched, he has blinkers on his eyes and morris bells on -his fingers: let's scream at him, and stop his dancing; he will take -worms to his bed, and be hugging them for his warm darling: Heaven guard -us from such a carle!" - -"But pray, pray," was all that I could say, for a hunger and pity of her -possessed me. - -"I am only telling you the truth," she answered, "your luck has leprosy, -your godmother must have been cross-eyed; and have I ever vowed to be -one Mrs Templeton, with your ring round my finger, whispering: '_this is -my body_'? I don't remember! I knew you when you were a young boy, and -I had a dream of you one night in which something said into my ear -nothing but 'Arthur, Arthur, Arthur'--just 'Arthur, Arthur, Arthur' for -years, and nothing else--a rum dream. But '_wife!_' '_wife!_' shrilled -the thrush, and the cuckoo answered, 'all gone,' 'all gone.' 'Wife' is a -bird-word, Jenny, it has no equivalent in my language. '_Wife!_' sing -'_wife!_' My tongue is too thick to sweet it." - -"Mine isn't," I said, "if you will hear me say it. Emily, look at me, I -am praying you----" - -"Idolatrously: I am wood and stone. Still, let me hear you say it." - -"Say what?" - -"'Wife': to hear how you pronounce the fluty f-sound and the deep i and -the wallowing w." - -"Well, since that pleases you, I say--'wife.'" - -"Oh, but so sheepishly? without unction? Hear _me_ say it--'_wife_.'" - -"Well, so I too say it--'_wife_.'" - -"Yes, that's strong. But you still speak of this? You still hope for -such a thing of me, really?" - -"But may I not? Only to be allowed to take you----" - -"_To Styria?_" she repeated: "oh, Arthur, the colour of your eyes and -mine don't match, you were not fashioned to be the father of a houseful -of sons, they would all squint. Deus meus! doesn't the enthronisation of -Archbishop Burton take place to-morrow, and will you not be going to -Styria the day after, or the day after?" - -"I do not know that," I said: "we are waiting for a letter from the -authorities there." - -"But if no letter comes? Will you not be going? Will you let Aubrey go -alone?" - -"I am far from certain that Aubrey is going! There are pits and -perils----" - -"He shall go," she said, "though they pierce my side, too, so that out -of it gush blood mingled with tears; he will go of himself, because he -should, and he shall go, because I will tell him to." - -"I know that he will if he should," I answered; "but should he? What has -Aubrey to do with the world's trouble? As for me, I tell you, Emily, -that I care for nothing in the wide earth----" - -"But care you must! Kitty-wren has come, the gripe's on," said she, "and -if she hath a devil we must nourish a God in us, to match it. There is -no escape, we are under orders, and care we must, go he shall, and you -with him, though they crucify him and you, and though they fix every -muscle of me to a different tree." - -"But why did this bird come to _us_?" I thought then in my pity: "there -was the world for her, and she came to Swandale"; and some despair in -our friend's face seemed to say to me, "yes, she came to us, to me, to -you, not to others, but to us: it stands recorded, two Gods are in it." -Her face showed wannish in that twilight against her violet velvet and -her furs, for the shades of night were gathering, and we looked aside -through the window upon the darkling oblong of water in silence, since I -could find nothing to answer her, nor any way out of the entanglement in -which my feet seemed to be engaged; anon her large plush hat touched my -face, anon she fingered the chords of the harp, while the bird on her -shoulder twittered its song. At last I said to her: "let it be as you -wish, Emily: but is a journey to Styria such a great matter? We will go, -and we shall return. Nothing shall be strong enough to restrain me from -returning, if you say that my ordeal shall then come to its conclusion." - -She looked with sorrowful eyes over the water, and after some minutes -she murmured: "only return safe with him, and I may be fond to you, -Arthur." - -We dallied there a goodly time after this, till some of the star-glints -were lit all amid the lilies of the pool; the little bird became -sullener or sleepy, and barely lisped anon; I saw a tear steal down the -cheek of our friend, as she commenced to hum, and then to sing -wistfully, and to twang out on the harp one of those artificial little -hymns of her brother, whose austere, sad music had long been dear to our -hearts: it was his Serenade, already at that time set to music by the -many-minded Ambrose Rivers of "New Church" notoriety: - - "In its dash - Showers down the rill, - Raving of the hill - (Graves are on the hill), - May its streams - Mingle with thy dreams. - Rove with Robin, love: - Mumble in thy brain - Murmurs of the main. - - For the cock - Drawleth as a-yawn, - Dreaming of the dawn - (Hoarily a-dawn), - And a-mount - Showereth the fount. - Almond-drugged the garth, - Showery besprayed, - Hoarily arrayed. - - And of God - Worthy is the sight, - Worlds are in the night - (Walkers of the night), - And He calls - Westwardly His thralls; - Gorgeous large they glide, - Wardedly like sheep, - Walkers in a sleep. - - And a brawl - Craveth in this breast, - Craving thee and rest - (God in thee and rest), - And a roar - Droneth to the shore. - Dashing raves the rill, - 'Lazily they lie, - God it is to die.'" - -Her rendering of it was berippled all the while by the whispering tongue -of the wren, and when she finished I said to her: "you see, the -water-lilies have heard at least you once more, Emily, and there is -hope, for Mercy is only in Cuckoo-town in so far as Cuckoo-town is in -heaven. But we should go back to the cottage now, for the stars are -looking out in crowds, and it is beginning to grow cold." - -She came with me, and we paced back by the margin of the pool, through -the wood, and up a dell, to the cottage. All laughter had gone now from -her lips, her steps were laggard, for she was easily wearied and emptied -now; and I held her poor hand all the way. - -As we entered upon the bridge, there stood Langler at a door of the -cottage, a letter in his hand, which, when we had gone into the -dining-room, he handed to me openly before Miss Emily. It was the letter -from Upper Styria come at last, signed by a certain Oberpolizeirath -Tiarks, whose face I was destined one day to see. I read it with a greed -which I could not hide. But it consisted mostly of a gorgeous heading, -the writing being in two lines only, and these cold enough but for their -salute of "high-born sir!" It merely acknowledged the receipt of our -"honoured but somewhat insubstantial [ungegründet!] communication"; and -there it ended. - -It was for this that we had waited! The paper was actually perfumed. - -It had upon me an effect of gloom, and I felt now that our departure was -about to be, but nothing was said of the letter at dinner, nor was it -till near ten in the night that we three met to talk of it in Langler's -study. Miss Emily closed the shutter, we felt like plotters, and laid -our heads together with low voices. Our friend seemed now quite -business-like and herself: she proposed that we should leave England in -four days' time, our purpose of going being kept quite secret meantime, -and that I should start first, to await Langler in London. All this was -arranged; also that Miss Emily should stay mainly with the Misses -Chambers during our absence, and it was not till towards one in the -morning that, at the third knocking of a nurse, we rose and parted to go -to bed. - -After all this I was naturally not a little surprised to hear Langler -say the next morning to his old butler, Davenport: "Davenport, I am -about to take a long voyage from home, as you will soon see for -yourself!" It was _a propos_ of nothing! The old fellow had brought in -some sour milk, and was retiring, when Langler stretched back his neck -and made the remark! No one, indeed, could be safer than old Davenport, -but still, the confidence seemed so needless.... "But it is a secret, -Davenport," I said pointedly. - -Well, I left Alresford for London that evening, and from the next -morning, the 27th--the morning after Dr Burton was enthroned--set to -work to gather all the information which would be useful to our -undertaking: I engaged an agent, named Barker, to accompany us, I wrote -letters, did business, relearned German and the map of Styria, kept -clear of friends, and even bought a number of things, including some -revolvers. On my second morning in London I got a letter from Langler, -and another the next morning, with a note from his sister: he said that -he was ready, and would be with me at three P.M. of the 29th. - -During the evening of the 28th, I being at home alone, reading, a letter -was handed me, consisting only of the three words: "_All is known_," -scribbled across half-a-sheet of note-paper, with a criss-cross for -crest. After much reflection I made up my mind not to write of it to the -Langlers, but it robbed me of sleep that night. - -At three P.M. the next day I was at the station to meet Langler, but he -did not come, and from then I underwent the keenest anxiety till six, -when I got a telegram: "About to start now"; and near nine Langler, -thick in furs, stood smiling before me, with the words: "_eh bien, me -voici_." - -"The luggage below?" I asked. - -"No, I took it direct to Victoria." - -"Oh, but I thought, Aubrey, that you were to bring it here, as the -safest way?" - -"Well, to save a double nuisance...." - -"All right: I hope it doesn't matter. And as to Emily?" - -"Well, thank God, and strong in heart." - -"And you, how do you feel after the voyage?" - -He smiled in his wistful way. - -"Well, let us dine," I said, pulling the bell. "I mean to have you in -bed by eleven, after no more than two pipes, for our train starts as the -clock strikes nine in the morning." - -I had kept back dinner for him, and we were soon at table. We were -eating fish when my man brought me in two telegrams, and the moment I -saw them in his hand, before ever I opened or touched them, my heart -sank: for I think that only the farther future is quite unknown, but we -know a moment hence, as when a heavy weight is to drop we feel it -beforehand. Tearing open one of the telegrams, I glanced at the sender's -name--"Lizzie Chambers"; she had written: "Emily ill, don't go away"; I -tore open the other: it, too, was from Miss Chambers, and she wrote: -"Emily's other hand has been nailed." - -Into the gloom of my mind grew the understanding that the milder of the -telegrams must be for Langler's eyes, the sterner for mine alone: but I -showed him neither, I left him there at the table, and in another room -called out upon Almighty God for help and strength. When I returned to -the outer room I could speak. - -But I showed him neither of the telegrams, for I had not the heart, and -he slept in peace that night. The next morning I told him when he came -to my bedside that I feared I should not be able to go to Styria, since -I was ill; and indeed I was very ill. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -"DISEASED PERSONS" - - -What happened now I do not find it easy to tell, for my next weeks were -passed in a state like to De Quincey's "tortures of opium": I cannot -clearly remember telling Langler what had happened, or showing him the -telegrams, and he had to return to Swandale alone, in what sort of state -I do not know, for I was in a bad dream, flushed with fever, nor was I -able to go out of doors till the 25th of April. It was a Sunday, towards -evening, I was accompanied by a friend, and we happened to go into St -Clement Dane's, where the preacher referred to Miss Langler, and -expressed the wonder of the world at the outrage; but what makes that -service stand out in my memory is a little thing that happened to -myself, for I was sitting with my head bowed during the Kyrie when a -priest who was pacing about came and pushed me rudely on the back, -saying: "_kneel, kneel_." I never was more astonished. - -The next day I stood at last by the bedside of our friend. She knew me, -I think, though not very clearly, but I understood that she had received -such a shock this time that she would never more be strong, even if she -did not die, for she had been still frail from the first woe when again -she was torn. Langler stood with me and watched her, for his -self-control was at all times fine, though I don't think born with him, -but won by strict schooling of himself; but after a time when we saw her -tossing her head from side to side, so acquainted with misfortune, we -had to turn from her. She had been especially unlucky, since she had -_meant_ to be on her guard, never to be out of doors alone, during her -brother's absence; but in passing from her carriage at the park wall of -Dale Manor to the house, it had come upon her. I remember spending that -evening of my arrival on my back at a window, staring up at a poplar -which looked like a fountain of leafage shot up to a point on high out -of the ground; sometimes its top seemed to be sailing against the sky, -as toppling to fall; and the breaths of the wind rocked its branches, -roughing up the under-white of its foliage with a chaunting like the -psalm of Time; and a starling flew up to her charming home on high in -it: and this somehow calmed and consoled me. - -I could stay only three days then, and for the next six weeks was to and -fro between Swandale and London on dates of which I have no record, -spending most of my time in a sort of political pool and uproar of -things, which perhaps did me good. Those were Diseased Persons days, and -well I recollect the thrill that ran through England on the night of -its virtual throwing out by the Lords in Committee. Burton and Edwards -were now at their death-grips, on the side of the archbishop being all -the awe of the nation, on that of the minister all its reason, its -secret sympathy, for it seemed that even God, howling from heaven, could -not quite bring it about to clericalise the modern world. I had just -telegraphed the throwing out to Langler, and was gossiping about it with -some men in one of my clubs--it was late, after the theatres--when I was -aware of Baron Kolár's presence: he had come in with three men, and his -eyes, swimming round, found me out. He walked straight to me. "Miss -Langler," were his first low words--"how is she?" - -The _cheek_, and also the hearty concern, of the question confounded me. -"Miss Langler is, of course, gravely ill," I answered. - -He groaned, with a look of ruth, of care, on his face: nor did it occur -to me to suppose it feigned, since I very well knew that the man was no -hypocrite; yet I was sure too, in my heart, that here was the man who -was the undoer of Miss Langler. - -"But surely she will recover?" said he: "let me hear now that she will." - -"Well, no doubt she will recover," I said. - -He pipped a nothing with relief, his lips unwreathed, his teeth shone -out happily, and he said: "Oh, well, everything works out nicely in the -end, if only things be premeditated by men of grasp and vigour. I -assure you, the longer I live the more I see it--the supremacy of mind -in the world. When I was a wild chap of seventeen I said to myself one -night: 'go to, now, I will be a man: I will be grand, I will govern my -passions, and have a hand in history.' And so said, so done. I did it! -here you see me now, I did it very well, very well, oh yes, here I am. -Mind is everything. Look at Mr Edwards, now--nice fellow, powerful -fellow, sharp as a falchion! You know, of course, that the Lords have -just virtually thrown out Diseased Persons? Tell me now which of the two -you think will come off the victor in this duel between Edwards and the -archbishop." - -"Who can win against the grain of an archbishop under a _régime_ of -miracles, Baron Kolár?" I asked. - -"What!" said he, eyeing me sternly from top to toe, "but is there to be -no term to the insolence of the Church? Remember that this plan of -sterilising diseased persons is no new thing: during twenty years it has -been under discussion; in Austria, I assure you, if it had not been for -the miracles, diseased persons would at present be consigned to the -lethal chamber; but this most moderate bill only ensures their -sterilisation. Everywhere such a measure is called for; it is in the -very gist of our age; and now when Mr Edwards, by a travail of Hercules, -has driven it through his House with a grim majority of twelve--earnest -fellow, grand fellow--are we to see his pearl trampled under foot by a -herd of bishops? But you shall not see that. I forecast that the bill -will be sent back to the Lords a second and a third time, and in the end -Edwards will win--oh yes, he will win." - -"He may," said I. - -"He will," said he: "England will rise to his support; wait, you will -see." - -He turned off from me, but turned again to ask after the Misses -Chambers, then left me to rejoin his friends. - -When I mentioned his words the next day at Swandale, Langler said to me: -"but since this man is so very sure beforehand of the Prime Minister's -victory, may we not at once look for some stroke of policy against the -Church on his part--perhaps the showing of the miracles to be none?" - -"In that case, Aubrey," said I, for I was excited, "let us be beforehand -with him! let both of us now write plainly to our friends that the -miracles are probably none, but still are no contrivance of priests----" - -But Langler interrupted me, saying: "you would hardly have us, Arthur, -appear to our friends in the light of crusaders and quixotes." - -"Why quixotes?" said I. - -"Wouldn't it be terribly like springing upon them the statement, '_the -sky is brown_'? The miracles are now among established things, nor are -our suspicions anything but suspicions. Certainly, we should seem pert, -if not irrelevant. Letters are perused over the breakfast-cup, and are -not expected to be epic." - -"However," said I, "this is the one plan which you can carry out without -fear of being interfered with and hindered, and by it you wash your -hands at once of the whole business and burden." - -"Perhaps; but still, frankly, it would not be quite to my taste: I'd -rather die than seem _outré_, or strutting, or oracular----" - -"But since so much is at stake----" - -"Sooner any other plan, Arthur." - -"But what other plan--except going to Styria?" - -"Hardly again," said he, with closed eyes, "hardly again," and we were -silent. - -After a while he asked: "does the agent, Barker, still decline to go to -Styria alone?" - -"Yes," said I; "he and others naturally scent danger in the adventure -after what has twice befallen us. If anyone goes, it must be ourselves; -so what shall be done?" - -"But do you ask me that, Arthur?" cried he, much moved: "how shall I -answer you? I have already paid a great price; my heart has wept. The -men who are against us are of withering mood, though I do not say wicked -men; in fact, they are not, since the mere success of their exploits -implies, I think, an erectness of meaning which commands our -esteem----" - -"Esteem, Aubrey," I murmured: but such was the _finesse_ of Langler's -criticism, whose scales no zephyr of passion could ever shake, and he -derided as crass and green whoever did not give to the devil his dainty -due. - -"Yes, I say esteem," said he, "for the misdoer is, and must be, a -bungler, so where you have a series of lawlessnesses finely achieved you -may look to find behind them a mood of moral erectness. But little the -morality of these men concerns me--I was speaking of their power." - -"Now, however," said I, "whatever their power, is the hour for us to -strike in, if ever: Diseased Persons will soon be back in the Lords; -Burton, of course, will not yield--" - -"Talking of Burton," said he, "I have two letters of his which I will -show you now"--and he rose and got them: one was a letter of sympathy, -very feelingly worded, written to Langler on the second wounding -of our friend; the other, written only five days before to Percival -of Keble, was as follows:--"The Palace, Lambeth. P. + T. My dear -Percival,--Forgive my silence, since you are continually in my heart. It -is now confirmed that Diseased Persons will be thrown out; and as Israel -prevailed over Amalek in Rephidim, so we shall ride over them that rise -up against us. Hertford, Jersey, and Ellenborough have declared on our -side, and the zeal of young Denman, who now has rooms in the Palace, is -profitable to me: the Lord reward them according to their works.... -There can be no looking back now, even if we would, being more strongly -impelled against the Bill from the side of St Peter than many divine; -and, in addition, there are forces, _in their nature subterranean_, -which prompt and urge us, and make retreat impossible--even if we would! -Bellini of the Maddallena writes that he does not consider the Bill -contrary to Holy Writ! And is it? What say you? Give me of your wisdom. -But however that be, on we must, the force behind is grim and deaf. I -say that the whole truth is known to none: you will remember at some -future day, if need be, that I have said it to you and to others; nor is -what I now give you any whisper between ourselves. But is not the whole -truth still good to speak? not the truth only, but the whole? We have -Clement of Alexandria on 'uttering a lie, as the Sophists say'; but to -utter a lie is it not to tell one? and to tell one is it not to lie? and -to lie is it not to be a rotting liar? And to trim, and economise, and -keep dark, and be shifty, is it not to utter many lies? To all which I -say: 'Get thee behind me, Satan! I will wash my hands in innocency.' -Forgive me if I am curious and obscure to-night, good friend, since I -write in some gloom of mind. One short year ago I was a village-priest, -and had songs in the night; at present I am full of tossings to and fro -till the morning. But my every loss, were it of life and soul, I will -count as gain, if only Zion prosper, though I warn you, Percival, of -rocks ahead, and fears and doubts not to be formulated; at some hours I -see the future dark as crape--I could not tell you. Our victory in -Gloucester was ominously close, and here and there in the country one -hears Old Adam growling. They must obey! they must submit themselves! -stantes sunt pedes nostri in atriis tuis, Jerusalem: over all uprising -we shall ride gloriously, God help us. Alas! sometimes when I am -mightiest, then am I weakest: the solid Pisgah gives way under my feet, -the wings of Icarus stream with melting; oh, for faith, and more faith, -and still more: pray for me. Still, we shall ride, we shall triumph. As -to the Lambeth degrees in medicine, and our right to grant them, this -you shall see carried against all the rage of the heathen in the near -future, so also as to the proposed new powers of Consistory Courts and -of my Court of Audience, so also as to the restoring to Canterbury of -her jurisdiction over wills and intestacies, so also as to the condign -punishment of Ambrose Rivers: all these. Only, still the sleeplessness, -no rest, no shutting of the eyelid, but tossings till the morning, and -not poppy nor mandragoras shall medicine me now, I think. Oh, Percival, -how happy is the obscure good man, the upright heart and pure, kept -unspotted from the world! Down yonder in Ritching parish my garden grew -wild, the vicarage was holey and ruined, but very pretty, very homely, -and ever for me there was one sweetest, secret cruse of water from -Siloa's brook, and my morsel of dry bread was like coriander seed, man, -I tell you, and the taste of it like wafers made with honey. Percival, I -warn you, fly from preferment: there is one sweeter sluice than all. -Pray write as to the scripturalness of Diseased Persons. Farewell, dear -friend.--In haste, yours faithfully in N.D.J.C., JOHN CANTUAR." - -"Here, I think," said Langler when I had got through the two letters, -"you have a soul in the toils," and we went on talking about Burton and -other things, without coming to the point as to what we personally were -now to do; moreover, I had promised to be back in London at once, and -left Swandale that night, our friend being then definitely on the road -to recovery. - -I did not, I think, return to Swandale during some two weeks, and -meanwhile twice saw Archbishop Burton, once in the Lords on the night -when Diseased Persons was being debated for the second time; all the -world was there: I saw Mr Edwards peeping behind the throne; I saw Baron -Kolár ironing his thigh, while his eyes dwelt upon the primate, who, -somehow, denounced the bill less loudly than I had expected to hear. I -thought that Dr Burton's girth was less outgrown, his visage less brown -than usual; indeed, I have grounds to know that about that time the -archbishop was putting himself to cruel tortures with regimen, the -thongs of discipline, and other articles of piety. Twice to my -knowledge, while speaking, he glanced up at Baron Kolár in the gallery, -and I witnessed the meeting of their eyes. Well, the bill, which had -been sent up this second time with an ominous drop in Edwards' majority -from twelve to nine, was anew mutilated; and at this thing the sort of -ecstasy which marked the mood of the country can only be recalled, not -described, for Diseased Persons and the Education Bill (setting up -_lycees_ on the French model) were the two main items in the King's -Speech, the Church withstood both, and the deadlock was complete. -Edwards would not yield, for if ever man knew England and Englishmen it -was he, and a sort of world-wide mutter against churchmen, which did not -dare express itself, yet could be felt, was abroad. It was at this -juncture that I again saw the archbishop one night at a political crush -at the Duchess of St Albans'. I was making my way through a throng when -I caught a view of Baron Kolár's head above a press of men, and, the -hall being full of a noise of tongues, I won near to the group around -him to hear, for he was talking; in doing which I caught sight of the -robed figure of the archbishop sitting on an ottoman, silent, solitary, -but within earshot of the baron's talk; indeed, I fancied that the -baron's voice was purposely pitched so that Dr Burton might overhear. As -I won near the first words of the baron which reached my ears were: "but -Jesus did not believe in the immortality of the soul: no, he didn't -believe in it; he never heard of such a thing: not in our sense of the -term----" - -I stood astonished at this drowsy outrage upon the ears of a devout -crowd, though a year previously his words would have been ordinary -enough, and I saw Dr Burton's eyes fixed sideward upon the baron with I -know not what musketry of meanings in them. - -"Oh no," the baron went on, "he had no notion of our 'immortality.' Our -notion of a ghost distinct from the body, of 'spirit' distinct from -matter, is, of course, an Aryan-Greek one, quite foreign to the Hebrew -mind: the very angels of the Hebrews ate mutton like Charles II., their -very God was material, with hind parts and front parts; and you will -burrow through the Old Testament in vain for a valid hint that men may -live after their body is livid." - -No one answered anything; only Dr Burton's eyes aimed a ray of keener -and keener meaning at the speaker. - -"However," the baron went on, "there arose at a late date a crowd among -the Hebrews called Pharisees, who said: 'no, all is not over at death, -for some day there will be a resurrection, and we shall then live -again'; opposed to whom were the Conservatives--the Sadducees--who -denied that there would be a resurrection: and Jesus was a Pharisee in -this belief in a resurrection of the body. But as to our fantastic Greek -ghost and its immortality, it was quite outlandish to all Hebrews, to -Pharisee, Essene, and Sadducee alike: Jesus hardly heard of it." - -I glanced toward Dr Burton's face: it had in it reproach, shame, and -anger together: and still the baron droned on: "hence the frequency of -this word 'resurrection' in the Gospels, in spite of the fact that their -writers were tinged with Greek ideas: for Jesus believed that we ceased -to live at death, but afterwards should have a 'resurrection': he was a -good Hebrew. On the other hand, in the writings of St Paul, who was both -a Hebrew and a man learned in Greek ideas, we have a perfect confusion -of the two ideas, Greek 'immortality' and Pharisee 'resurrection.' -Sometimes Paul believes in one, sometimes in the other, sometimes -somehow in both together. Where he says, 'to be absent from the body is -to be present with the Lord,' he is a Greek; where he says, 'I have -fought a good fight ... henceforth there is laid up for me a crown which -the Lord will give me in the day of his appearing,' he is a Hebrew: for -he won't get the crown at once, oh no, it is _laid up_ for him till -resurrection-day, when he will wake up out of the dust. And so all -through that epistle----'" - -But at that point the baron stopped, looking with a delicious fat -chuckle after the flight of Dr Burton, who was off through the throng. -Nobody made any reply to the baron's words. I wish that one could -describe the man's tones, _his eyes_!--wandering, fishy, light grey, -the whites fouled yellowish; but so strong somehow! They would light -upon one a moment in a preoccupied way, and wander off again, as if one -was not of worth enough to engage their attention. But I'm afraid that -my pen was not made to paint. At any rate, his words were always most -weighty, living, memorable, and overbearingly authoritative--not in -themselves perhaps, but in some way because they came from him. - -I happened to overhear a few private words between him and Dr Burton -that same night which I should recount, but before then I was in a crowd -with Mr Edwards, who was looking rather harassed, though quick-eyed as -ever, and appeared from his talk to be less bitter against Dr Burton's -big attacks than against the "pin-pricks "; "the face of Europe was -turned towards the future," one heard him say, "and now come the parsons -twisting it about, and saying, 'look back to the past.' It can't be -done, you know: neck'll break. And such pettifogging, penny-ha'penny, -antediluvian antics! How is an archbishop to grant degrees in medicine -at this time of day? As for Ambrose Rivers, all I can say is, if the -church-party should succeed in laying a finger upon that harmless -lunatic, then the Government will begin to ask itself whether the time -is not come to throw up the cards. May the dickens fly away----!" he -stopped, but I understood him to mean "with the church-party, and all -things, save the multiplication-table and the present Prime Minister of -England." He was a man of many sterling qualities of mind, and exercised -a true influence over his countrymen, perhaps through his very actuality -and directness; and though he ever refused to embellish himself with one -touch of personal stateliness, he was listened to with attention. - -Half-an-hour afterwards I was talking with a man over a balcony rail, -where it was dark, when I heard behind me the words: "you should not -slacken in your opposition to the bill: the Church must be pushed on and -made quite triumphant"; they were spoken by Baron Kolár, and from Dr -Burton I heard a murmured reply, but not the words; then I am almost -certain that I heard the baron say: "there will be some more miracles"; -and I distinctly heard the doctor's reply, halting, wifely: "how do -you--know?" and the answer too to this I heard: "I know by faith, -doctor," whereupon they turned in their pacing, and their voices were -lost. I allowed myself to whisper to the man with me: "Mephisto and -Faust!" - -Well, what happened next with respect to Diseased Persons happened in a -kind of whirlwind, and before I knew where I was I was off to Styria. -Once more the bill was sent up, this time by Lower House majorities of -in general seventeen. What Mr Edwards' hope was, whether he was pushed -from behind by secret forces, one does not know; certainly by this time -the grumble in his favour--on the platform, in the press, in the -country--had grown; but still, no one much expected the Church to give -way. However, at about two in the afternoon of the very night on which -the bill was brought for the third time before the Lords, an old woman, -one Madame Ronfaut, who housed close to the Cathedral of Bayeux, found -in her cellar a grave, not a new grave, but one newly reopened, and in -the grave a cross, and nailed to the cross the remains of a man's body -that had been dead at least some months. The news of this thing flew -that afternoon like loosened effluvia. What was the precise significance -of the find I suppose that nobody gave himself the breathing-space to -think; it was felt to be significant: and never was news more dynamic. -That night Diseased Persons had a victory in spite of all the bishops. -I, for my part, flew to Swandale, understanding that the finding of the -body and cross was no chance thing, but purposely managed to give a -first shock to the faith of men. "Have you heard all?" said I to Langler -as I hurried into the cottage. He gazed at me strangely, without answer; -I saw his cheek shake; and I cried out: "Aubrey, how is Emily?" - -"She is gone, she is gone," said he, with as woeful a smile as ever I -beheld. - -"Gone, Aubrey," said I, "what do you mean?" - -He handed me a note which she had written to him, and I saw that, on -hearing of the finding of the body and cross, she had fled from -Swandale, alone, weak, hardly yet able to walk. "Dearest Aubrey," she -had written, "you will go now to Styria, because you should; and partly -to make the leaving of me possible to you, and partly to save you from -being stopped this time by any hurt done to me, I am running away to -hide myself well somewhere. Have no fear for me, I undertake that no one -shall track me, I shall be safely hidden, and get quite well, and be -back in Swandale to welcome you when you return. Go at once, will you, -for me? with Arthur. 'Quit you like men, be strong'; you are in for it -now, poor dear: it has happened so. I take Ł40 from the casket. But, -beloved, if it be only possible, come back to me; and bring him who goes -with you. Your Emily." - -I found Langler in such a state of powerful, though governed, emotion, -that I was unwilling to have him start that night, for his heart was not -strong. But he would come, and we reached London at two A.M., went to -bed for a time, and started in the morning by private car, so as to -catch the first passage. - -We were safe aboard at Dover, and the boat about to cast her moorings, -when a car was seen making down the pier, and an outcry arose for the -boat to wait awhile, the men in the car being Baron Kolár and two -others. They were barely in time, and soon after the baron had -manoeuvred himself aboard I saw his earnest looks clear into a smile. - -During the trip across he took not the least notice of our presence, nor -we of his. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE MOUNTAINS - - -Langler was a great preacher of France and French lucidity--when he was -in England, but in France itself he changed his tune, for nothing now -quite pleased him as we raced through the land--not the food, the -people, the language, the country--but all came under his criticism, -which, indeed, was mostly unuttered, but one felt when he was -criticising by a certain fastidiousness and thickening at the -cheek-bones, as if he tasted acid. At Charleville, where we found a -streaming town, one of the pilgrimages having just got there, the tone -of the _dévotes_ was specially distasteful to him; we saw a throng -kneeling in the twilight on some church-steps, everyone with a certain -beggar-like languishing of the eye-whites--a very Latin thing--which -Langler called "sick-saintly." But he was ever out of joint with the -age, had flinched from its paganism before the miracles, as now he -flinched from its piety. "We are such hapless Midases," he said: -"whatever we happen to touch turns to iron." Swandale itself he found -wanting; he sighed for a rounder world. Now, piety was "_the rage_" in -France, and one day in France was quite long enough to turn Langler -qualmish against the words "male and female Christian," ever chattered -everywhere. At Charleville, when we returned to our hotel from our -stroll, a lively little maid with flaxen curls would have us look at her -first-communion veil, her paroissien, and suchlike pious gems, remarking -meanwhile: "is it not soft and nice, sir, to be a female -Christian--n'est-ce pas, monsieur, que c'est doux et bon d'ętre -crétienne?" To which Langler replied: "I only hope so: moi je suis -crétien." - -Being very weary that first night we slept till two A.M., when we set -out afresh on the car road over the suspension-bridge through Mézičres, -under a dark sky most bright with stars. Our trim little chauffeur, -whose name was Hanska, was a "rager,"; but this mode of flight was never -to Langler's taste, and we had meant to travel on rails, till the sight -of Baron Kolár on the Channel-boat had caused me to know that the -rail-train would be much too slow. We had lost sight of the baron at -Calais, but near noon of the second day, when we were shooting some -miles well on past Sedan, a trumpet hooted behind, and there churned -upon us a large chariot travelling urgently. It must have been very -swift, for we were swift, but it rolled pressingly past us, showed its -hind wheels, and travelled on out of our sight. Through the dust I saw -in it Baron Kolár and his two friends. - -"Baron Kolár means to be in Styria before us, Aubrey," I said. - -"In which case, what is the good of our going on?" asked Langler. - -"We are going to investigate some facts," said I: "no one can stop us in -that, unless they kill us; in any case, we have it to do to the end: -your sister's eyes are upon us." - -"God's," said he. "On we must, I know; I only question whether we are on -the road to accomplish any real good: I hope so, God grant it; but it is -a world like those jointed marionettes which, however you tug them -straight, stick out crudely somewhere; its piety and its impiety both -curve the lips of the gods. But let us hope that we shall accomplish -something, if only for our poor prisoner." - -Well, on we went, hardly knowing toward what: but our object after much -talk had turned out to be threefold--(1) to find out whether there was -really a prisoner Father Max Dees in Baron Kolár's castle of -Schweinstein; (2) to present ourselves with this _fact_ to the -authorities, and so force the release of Dees; (3) to interview the -released Dees, and then give to the world whatever he might have to -divulge of a design against churchmen. And chance favoured us to a -wonderful extent that day between Sedan and Metz, for not fifteen -minutes after Baron Kolár's chariot had vanished ahead we came anew upon -it standing still by the roadside, its occupants standing and prying -round it. As we flew past them I cried to Langler: "they can't repair, -and are miles from anywhere: are bound to lose a day!" nor from that -moment, I think, did we waste ten minutes bootlessly, till we were -climbing the country at the mountain-foot. One morning early I woke in a -village-room, and peeping out from my window saw the village-street -bounded by a wall and some trees; beyond the trees the froths and -freshes of a shallow river lacerated with rocks; beyond the river a -mountain-side with a crucifix on it, a world of mountains; and grouped -about the crucifix the kind of grey goats whose wool had been used by -Dees to tie his tidings round the wren's leg; and I said to myself: "we -have arrived." What a charm was in that place that morning surpasses -expression; it appeared to me the haven of the world; the morning-star -was awane in the heavens; and I had the thought: "how well to have been -born in here, and to have housed here always in peace!" It was a -breathing-space to me, till the burden that was ours darkened down anew -upon my mind with its weight of care and doubt. As to where Baron Kolár -might be we had no idea, having seen nothing of him since his breakdown -near Metz. - -My own hostess--Langler had slept in another cottage--had a son named -Piast whom she offered to me as guide, upon which this conversation took -place between us: "does Piast know the alp well?" "Kiss the hand, sir, -he is a Slovene." "But is he to be depended upon as a guide?" "He is a -Slovene, sir." "Yes, but does he know the best way to Schweinstein?" -"Sir, he is a Slovene." She herself was a heavy Slav woman, but as our -Piast looked a brave wight we took him, and began to climb through -higher valleys now and a wilder world. I knew Switzerland very well, but -this was different somehow--a heavier eventide of wood and wonderland of -solitude, for I think that Upper Styria must be about the loneliest of -lands. We travelled up beside one river (with banks of slime, and -forested cliff on either hand) which had a mood of millions of years -gone, before man or brute was; yet the wild goat bounded on the crag, -the boar slouched in the black of the bush. At noon we stopped at a -sennhaus (cow-farm) on the banks of a mountain-tarn, and here, to my -surprise, it got into Langler's head to bathe. "But can we spare the -_time_?" I asked him. "Too cold, too cold," said our host the -cow-keeper, with a shake of the head, for though the day was warm, we -were now at an elevation where oak and ash were giving place to black -fir and yew. But Langler would bathe, the water looked so nice, and as I -knew that he could not swim, and was afraid that the bottom might be -deceptive, I made up my mind to go in first, to try it. Our cow-keeper -lent us two old knee-breeches, for the wagon with our luggage was down -behind, and there we cowered by the shore, Langler with knives in the -flesh because of the sennerin's eyes on his back, for she and three -children stood in a crowd up at the sennhaus door to watch us. Well, I -chose a spot, and plunged in: and the instant I was under, as it were a -thousand whispers were about me urging me to be out. It was too cold for -man, with a certain great gloom of cold, and I was no sooner in than I -was out again. Understanding now that it would hardly do for Langler -with his panting heart, I prayed him not to try it; but his honour, I -suppose, was now at stake--he had ever a large share of what one may -call physical courage--and in he stepped. However, he did not plunge, -but almost at once came out gasping, and seeing his left foot dyed with -blood, I knew that something had gashed it. - -On the whole, we had no sort of right in that water, since time might be -so dear to us: but so it happened; Langler's gash proved grave, for he -could not put on his boot, so after our good sennerin had bandaged it up -there we sat for hours before the longish shed which was the sennhaus, -drinking goat's milk, smoking porcelain pipes, and looking toward the -summer snow on the top of high Hochgolling. - -"Pity we ever went into the water," said Langler as we sat there -disabled and the afternoon sun sank low: "we have lost a day, and -through me, I'm afraid." - -"Bad luck," said I, "not your fault." - -"We are such tools of Nature!" said he. "Men rage of their 'power' over -Her, but what of Her unperturbed reign over and in _them_? We should now -be at Schweinstein, yet here we are, the truth being that new lands -induce a vagueness and vagabondage in the mind, so hypnotising it that -one's own concerns seem paltry in comparison with the mass and pageant -of Nature, and irrelevant to her mood; whereupon 'I am here' grows so -uppermost in the mind as to strangle 'why am I here?' However, I think -that the foot is now fast healing." - -"Then we may be able to get on to-night," said I. "But who is that man -talking so earnestly to our Piast? He was here an hour ago, went away, -and now is back again." - -"I have observed it," said he; "they are at this moment discussing us." - -"Are they?" - -"Yes, they are talking near the cascade, and louder than they think, for -I have twice heard 'die Herren,' and presently you will see them glance -this way." - -"But do you suspect Piast at all?" - -"I doubt if he is quite trusty and good." - -"Then let us not go one step farther with him." - -"But we have the charts, he can't lead us far astray; nor can we allow -ourselves to judge him on a mere suspicion." - -I said no more, but felt uneasy. Soon afterwards I left Langler -outside, went up the (external) steps into the middle room of the -sennhaus, and sat by the wheel where the sennerin was spinning flax; she -looked homely and good with her thick waist and calves and dress of -opera-bouffe, so I entered into talk with her, asking her first what had -been the effect of the miracles in the alp. "Kiss the hand, sir!" she -said, and she smiled as she told me that "the good people of the alp -must work hard to keep body and soul together, without troubling the -head about such matters. That is not all gold what glances." - -I was astonished! The thought came into my mind, "here is Ambrose Rivers -in the Noric Alps," for, except Rivers and this woman, I had heard of no -one who thus lightly threw off the miracles. "But surely," said I, "such -high events!" She sighed, saying: "ah, dear Heaven, those on the alp had -their miracle six long years ago, and that was enough of miracles, it -seems to me, with great cry and little wool." "Six years ago? a -miracle?" said I. "Yes, sir; but let each sweep before her own -door"--another proverb, and a strong one apparently, for nothing further -could I get from her as to this miracle of six years before. - -I then, for the first time in Styria, spoke of Max Dees. "My friend and -I," I said, "are here to visit the Pater Max Dees: do you--know him?" -Again she smiled, saying: "my man did frohn-arbeit on his -buckwheat-field for three years"--(this "frohn-arbeit" being, as she -explained it, a kind of church-due paid in day-labour). "So you know the -Pater well?" I asked. With the same half-a-smile, she answered: "I -_knew_ him." "But isn't he still in the alp, then?" "Not at the church, -sir." "Which church?" "St Photini's in the castle-court." "Oh, he is not -still the priest at St Photini's, so perhaps my friend and I have taken -a voyage in vain. Who, then, is now the priest there?" "There is no -priest," said she; "even if there were, we of this church-parish should -no longer plod to his church, since it is work enough to keep body and -soul together; for burials a priest rides up from Badsögl; but St -Photini's has been shut up near five years--before the birth of the -little sugar-corn Käthchen, in fact." - -"But that is strange!" said I. "To whom does St Photini's belong?" - -"All this alp, one might say, belongs to the baron, sir." - -"All? He must be enormously rich and powerful!" - -"Gold makes old, sir; but the baron is not believed to be rich, not as -some of the great landowners are, for glaciers and precipices make no -man rich, and the most of his land is forest, with some flax, beet, and -then the pastures; his lordship has also a share in the glass factory a -mile up." - -"So he is not very rich, the baron? But is he powerful? much feared in -the alp?" - -"Ah, dear Heaven, he is very much feared, and very much loved, and very -much pitied, by all." - -"Pitied? Baron Kolár?" - -"Ah, dear Heaven, yes: for nothing less than a very great wrong was done -to his lordship by one in whom he had trust. They say 'one love is worth -the other'; but unthankfulness is ever the world's repayment." - -"But what was this great wrong done to his lordship?" - -She sighed, and answered: "end good, all good; it is a long story, sir"; -nor was there any overcoming her reserves when she chose to be silent. - -"But that is strange," said I, "that St Photini's should be shut -up--five years! To what church, then, do you--go?" - -"We go to none, since the body is more real than the soul. There is a -little Roman church down there in Speisendorf, but no one goes to it -since the miracle of six years ago; those of the alp once went to St -Photini's, but St Photini's is of the Oriental Greek Church, and the -Pater Max Dees was an Oriental Greek priest." "_Was?_" said I, "but is -the good Pater no longer alive?" "Who knows?" said she. "You do; tell -me," said I. "But I do not know, sir, truly! perhaps the baron himself -could impart to you that information." "But where is the baron?" I -asked, "in the duchy, do you know?" "The baron is at the burg, sir." -"Baron Kolár at Schweinstein! When did he arrive?" "Late last night, I -believe," she answered. - -"Strange," I thought, "that we have heard nothing of it, though we have -questioned so many people"; and wondering if he had come in a -clandestine manner, or by another route than ours, I hurried out to give -Langler the news. In telling him, I saw the cow-man trotting toward the -tarn under a load of wurzels, so I called him to us, and asked why he -had told us that the baron was _not_ at the castle. "Kiss the hand, -sirs!" he said, and answered with a blank air, "but this is strange! is -the baron at the castle? and is it the little woman who has told you -this? she must have seen it in a dream"----and he peered sourly up into -the room where the spinning-wheel sounded. Turning to Langler, I asked -him how the foot was going, for I felt that it would be well to make a -move; "you see I have on the boot," was his reply, "I can walk quite -well"; and within some minutes we had started, for eventide was falling, -and we had to get to a sort of guest-court three miles higher. We had -sent the horses back down to Speisendorf, our farther route being rough -for night-travelling; and with our Piast stepping out ahead in his -coloured home-spuns, we tramped toward the bourn where beds and the -trunks awaited us. It had turned bleak now, the fuffs of the -mountain-winds began to tune-up and fife, the gloom deepened toward -night. I confess that I felt afraid, I hardly knew of what, but the mood -of the mountains was undoubtedly morose and dark. When I asked the lad -if he had heard the news that his lordship had arrived he looked -foolish, and said no, he had not heard. We passed by rude altars decked -with gauds, by crucifixes on the crags, and a mile from the sennhaus -reached a river all shut in by ravines, up the banks of which we wound, -till, after about an hour and a half of continuous walking, we came to -some lock-gates, and then, in an opening in the cliff-wall, to a -factory, which Piast said was a glass-factory, and I remember wondering -where the hands could come from to work it; a little higher was a -mill-wheel and other lock-gates, and thenceforward unbroken lines of -cliff, walling-in the river. I had known that we should have to journey -up this or some such river, so had no fear that we were being jockeyed; -yet I felt like one lost, for by this time we could hardly see our hand -before our eyes, the winds waged their business in many a strange -tongue, and my knowledge that Langler was limping made me the more -anxious to come at shelter. As usual in such a case, we were stricken -rather silent, plodding on in patience for the journey to be over and -for a light to arise before us. And in front of us stepped our Piast. - -But at one place when I called out "Piast!" to ask him something, I got -no answer; whereupon we both stopped, we called and called, but Piast -was gone. - -"Well, we seem to be abandoned," Langler said. - -At the same moment I called out sharply: "but do you feel your feet -wet?" - -"Yes," said he, "I do. The river seems to be rising." - -As he spoke I was already wet above the ankles, for not only was the -river rising, but so very fast, that I understood that this was no tidal -rising, but must be due to some other cause. Langler too understood, for -he now said: "the lock-gates have apparently been closed." - -"Purposely to drown us, Aubrey?" I cried. - -"Well, the timely flight of Piast seems to indicate as much," he -answered with astonishing composure, to judge from his voice, for he was -merely a voice, since I could only just divine his presence with my -eyes, and I heard the water welter directly upon the cliff-wall, and -felt it at my knees. - -"But what are we to do?" I cried. - -"What can we do?" said he, "except bear our lot with fortitude." - -"But we shall be drowned!" - -"Well, so it seems," said he. "I personally never hoped to get through -this adventure." - -The water, working actively up, had won to my middle, striking very -cold; and that cold, together with my forlornness in that wild, made my -death the more awful to me. I tried once, and only once, to climb the -cliff-wall; but I could not lift myself a foot, and thenceforth, as in a -glass, I saw that there was no escape. A mile or so lower down was a -water-mill, where the gorge opened somewhat, and thereabouts we might -have got out of the trap (provided that we could climb the lock-gates); -but, as Langler said, long before we could get to the gates the water -would be over our heads; he could not swim; nor did I mean to leave him -before he drowned in any hope of saving myself by swimming, since I knew -that I should very soon perish of cold. - -Only one thought, and with it a hope, if it can be called a hope, -occurred within me, and I said to Langler: "but which way did Piast -escape? it must have been forward: let us move forward...." and we did -so, walking on a bottom of grass and slime, I in front with a grip on -Langler's sleeve, and the water at our breasts. But it was slow going, -and still the wall of rock was with us, so we did not go far, but stood -still again near together, and I heard Langler's breaths looser than the -puffs of the wind, and more burdened: a rather horrid sound in my -memory. - -"Well, Aubrey," I panted, with my hand on his shoulder. - -His jaws chattered: he could make no answer. - -It was about then that a light from, say, forty feet above streamed down -comet-wise upon us that must have come from an electric dark-lantern, -for, on looking up, I could see nothing save the dazzlement, though I -have now an impression, too, of the hoofs of a horse on the cliff-edge: -and a voice was shouting to us. - -"There is," it cried--_in English_--and stopped; or I may be mistaken, -but I am privately convinced that I did hear those two English words, -though Langler did not. - -"There is," it cried in German, "a stair in the rock twenty metres -below"--and at once the light vanished. - -We had walked past "the stair"! nor was there any chance that we should -ever have found it, though so near; a stair it was not, but a few jags -notched out of a slanting slip of the cliff. However, we found them, we -contrived to climb to the top: but no one was any longer there when we -got to it. - -What followed for us that night was almost as baleful as what we had -evaded: we were abroad hour after hour in an alpine storm, miners in the -colliery of the night, sometimes standing still, dreading to take a -step; indeed, it is strange that we were not many times dashed to death, -for one could not see the mountains, nor the ground, nor the sky on -high, all on all hands was swallowed up in awe, the heart failed at the -great rivers of grief which the deluges of wind poured through the -forests. It must have been long past midnight when, by a feat of luck, -we hit upon a hut in which was one poor woman, living that hermit-life -which they call almen-leben, with a few kine only for companions; she -took us in, and succoured us; and with such greed did we eat out and -still eat out this good Gretel's larder that our griefs ended in -laughter. - -When at last we were lying wrapped in blankets in a gloom beshone by a -blush from the stove, I whispered to Langler: "did you hear the '_there -is_' in English from the cliff?" "No," said he, "I think not." "But was -not the voice at all familiar?" "I thought, Arthur, that it resembled -Baron Kolár's." "So did I," I said. - -Outside the winds worked, venting brokenly and gruff like breakers of -oceans thundering on unearthly shores, while for some time I lay too -fore-done to sleep, pondering the wonder of that voice in the night. If -it was truly Baron Kolár's--I am still not sure of it!--what, I asked -myself, could be his motive? Had he merely wished to prove to us his -absolute power over our lives? Or had this terrible man meant to destroy -us, but relented in the midst? I oftentimes think that he had a liking -for Langler.... But I could not solve the riddle, and before long was -asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -AT THE SCHLOSS - - -The next afternoon we got down at last to the little guest-court where -our luggage was, and now could see a tower of Schweinstein half-a-league -away. Langler, however, had to take to his bed, and thus lost three days -more. - -I, for my part, more easily overcame the effects of my night on the alp, -and during those days set myself to come at the truth as to whether or -no Baron Kolár was really at home; I must have questioned twenty people; -but the answer was always the same: his lordship was not in residence. - -On our third morning (a Saturday) at the guest-court we received, to our -joy, a long letter from our wounded friend. I had thought it likely that -she would write us at the P.O. at Gratz, so I had written to the P.O., -and they had now sent on this letter to us in the mountains. Langler's -hand trembled, and he had such a ravished smile as touched one to the -heart. She had fled to a village in Gloucestershire named Alvington, and -was still safely buried there, but meant, she said, to go back to -Swandale as soon as she should opine that we in Styria had had time to -work out our purpose. The letter for the most part was in a tone of -affected lightness; she described the inn where she lodged, its -flower-beds, its cat, the landlady's mows, the gambols of the wren; she -even gave the political news! Diseased Persons had become law, and now -it was the Education Bill that was the row: "as Satan and Michael -contended for the body of Moses," she wrote, "so Mr Edwards and Dr -Burton are striving for Ambrose Rivers"--Burton struggling to bring -Rivers and his "New Church" under the power of the ecclesiastical -courts, Edwards struggling tooth and nail against it; Dr Burton, -however, she said, had had an apoplectic fit, and was laid aside for the -time being. She begged to be remembered to "the good frock-coat" (_i.e._ -to me), but, giving way in the end to her grief, cried out upon our pity -to return to her. For us it was a heart-rending letter. I, at any rate, -felt that if any mishap should befall her brother in this adventure, -then dangers too sinister to be breathed to one's own heart might -overhang her spirit. We had meant to present ourselves that day at the -castle, but Langler was too deeply moved by the letter, so we put it off -till the next day. - -All those days I had not been idle, but had roved a good deal, trying to -get friends, and had explored, too, round about the castle by land and -river. There were quite thirty to fifty dwellings within two miles, but -I found all these people very reserved, given up to their swine and -agrarian cares, and looking upon me as a needless phenomenon. Swine -abounded! a pig was in every life. However, I won some of them into -saying something, and gathered, on the whole, that probably no one -_knew_ what had become of Dees, but that all probably had a guess that -he was, or had been, a prisoner in the castle, in which case they were -pleased, with a feeling of "serve him right"; also that no one had, or -wished to say that he had, any intuition whereabouts in the world his -lordship then was. This, too, was strange, that on that Sunday when -Langler and I at last walked down through the forest towards the river -and burg no sound of bell called the people to worship; Europe was on -its knees, but this one valley of Europe had washed its hands of the -Christian Church. - -And everyone had only one excuse to offer for this--namely, that "it was -enough to do to keep body and soul together." - -How clear and new-made was the air in there that Sunday afternoon! "Up -here," wrote Langler to his sister, "it is never hot nor muggy, I think, -for the breezes rest not day nor night, breathing eras of music through -the timber." He said that he had never felt better, though bitterly like -Don Quixote before the windmill! Old Lossow (our host) and two boys came -along with us, but they left us in a flurry at the outwork barbacan; -then we two stood before the gate, dressed to our gloves, and Langler -said to me: "you know, Arthur, that Christ of Castagno in the gallery at -Christ Church? it rises before me now as an expression of the -languishment of mind which I feel in the presence of this stronghold." -So I, too, felt; nor was I at all sure that, once in, we should ever -come out again; but there we were, and I summoned the castle--the -knocker being a cannon-ball hanging on a chain, whereat a woman opened, -we stepped into the bailey-court, and a somewhat loosely-dressed man, -with a tasselled smoking-cap on his head hurried towards us, followed by -a brown bear. "Kiss the hand, sirs," said he, "you are without doubt the -two English acquaintances of the baron from whom I have received a -communication." "Yes, sir," said I. "I am the burgvogt, Jan Tschudi," -said he; "I take it that you still wish to inspect the burg?" "Still, -yes," said I, for I had a weapon on me. "Willingly from the heart will I -show you over the fortress," said he, "be so good as to come this way." - -We followed him inward, Langler fondling the bear, which had a string of -rhododendrons round its neck, Herr Tschudi himself a burly German of -middle age, fresh-faced, with a bold brow under his smoking-cap. He led -us to some cannon, saying: "these two are fifteenth-century sakers, -those there are what they call culverins; and everything with us is of -this kind, sirs: here you will find all old, nothing splendid." He next -led us into the gaudy little church, which Langler examined lingeringly, -especially two curious niches in the south wall beside the altar, where -the elements had been kept, over which he bent so long that Herr Tschudi -and I became restless; "I see," I said meanwhile to Tschudi, "that your -front row of seats are really easy-chairs, as I once heard Baron Kolár -say that they are." - -"Yes," he answered, with a smile. And he added, with a certain flush and -challenge: "we once had a particularly brilliant preacher here whom the -baron used to take a pleasure in coming down to hear on Sunday mornings; -hence the chairs, for his lordship is fond of his ease." - -I could see his lordship reclining, stroking back his scrap of hair, and -enjoying the "real toil" of another! - -"Who, then, was that brilliant preacher?" I asked. - -"He was called the Pater Dees, sir." - -"And what has become of him now?" - -"I could not tell you." - -"But can it be the same Pater Max Dees of whom I have heard that he has -been a prisoner in the castle?" - -"The very same." - -"May I ask--what was his offence?" - -"The sin of ingratitude." - -"Indeed? What is the story?" - -"Ah, I'm afraid it might be long: you would regret having asked to hear -it." - -"I don't often regret what I do. But ingratitude! Does one go into -prison in the alp for that?" - -"It may happen!" - -"But in a private castle?" - -"Sir, let me tell you what you are not perhaps aware of, that among the -ancestors of his lordship on the distaff side have been several -Reichsunmittelbarer-Fürsts, and that till late times the lords of this -castle have been rechts-fähig" (able to make private laws). - -"Quite so, quite so," said I, "but still, a prisoner in a private -castle ... in our times...." - -"It is a mere nothing; you should not let that trouble you." - -"But is Father Dees--still a prisoner, if one may ask?" - -"Surely one may ask: there is no harm in asking, you know. But all that -was five long years ago, of course. Here, however, is your friend, the -connoisseur, at last." - -Langler now at last joined us. As we set out afresh a youth with -ringlets and a velvet coif came up blushing, to be presented by Herr -Tschudi as "Mr Court-painter (Hof-maler) Friedrich." "But has the baron -a court?" I asked, to which Herr Tschudi answered: "not in strict -etiquette any longer perhaps; but it amuses the baron to keep up a -pretence of the old sovereign rights, and, being a dear heart at -bottom, he is ever fond of pets, of whom our friend, the court-painter -here, is one." - -We now went on inward to the second court, a party thenceforth of five -(including the bear), and were shown the granary, storehouses, electric -set. "Do you keep a large staff of retainers?" I asked at the offices. -"A mere handful now," was the answer; and Herr Tschudi added with a -laugh: "but they are all trusty to the backbone, in case you ever think -of storming the castle!" This was the hard nut whom I had had the -fantastic thought of bribing to tell the truth as to Dees! He was full -of pride in his baron and castle, and such a hero-worshipper that I even -fancied that he tried to ape the baron's manner and speech. "Certainly, -the baron keeps some excellent horses," said I at the stables: "is he -fond of riding?" "Ach, not now," was the answer; "but he has been a -dashing bear and boar huntsman in his time, for whatever he attempts he -does with a more magnificent success than others; the mother of the good -Ami here (meaning the bear) was slain by him. As for the horses, the alp -is noted for them." "So, since the baron no longer rides," said I, "how -does he amuse himself now when in residence?" "Mainly in the laboratory, -which I will show you presently in the keep," he answered. "Indeed?" -said I, "is the baron a chemist?" "What, you did not know that?" said -he: "everyone knows that he is even a specially profound chemist, for -chemistry has been his life-study." "The baron is always found to be -more than one had thought him," said I; "I wonder if my friend and I -will have the honour of seeing him before we leave the alp?" "His -lordship's comings and goings," answered Herr Tschudi, "are always very -uncertain." "Strange to say," said I, "there is a rumour in the alp that -the baron is actually in residence; at least one woman told me that she -knows it for a fact." "Thundery weather!" cried the man with a flush, -"what is the woman's name?" "I don't know her name," I answered, not -wishing to get my good sennerin into any trouble. - -A move was now made towards the keep with its square tower at each -corner. By an outside flight of steps we went up to the first -floor--there was no ingress to the ground floor--and were shown the old -hall (ritter-saal). The quality of this place was most quaint somehow, -with some feeling of ancient forests, damsels and nixen, and knights of -Lyones, yet all was quite plain, even shabby, save some rather -portentous portieres which shut off his lordship's private quarters. I, -for the most part, strolled with Herr Tschudi, while Langler, with Herr -Court-painter, bent over everything in his connoisseur way: there were -paintings by old abbots in tempera whose secret is lost, there were -cressets, gobelins, tables of pierced bone, painted hoch-Deutsch MSS. -Langler said hardly anything, and only once spoke to Herr Tschudi, when -he called out: "Is this pieta ancient?" to which Herr Tschudi answered: -"fifteenth-century, sir." "But," said Langler, "Herr Court-painter says -sixteenth-century," at which Herr Court-painter blushed all over his -broad face. "No, sir, fifteenth-century," repeated Herr Tschudi. "I -thought it modern," said Langler; "but what is this inscription on its -base?" We all now went to look at the pieta, a Virgin and dead Christ in -wax; but Herr Tschudi could make nothing of the inscription, for he -said, "it is some pious motto, but I do not know that language--do you, -perhaps, Herr Court-painter?" Herr Court-painter of the star-gazing -spectacles shook his ringlets, with the answer: "I do not know what it -says." "Does--the baron read Hebrew?" asked Langler suddenly. "Ach, not -now any more, I think," answered Herr Tschudi; "but he has been a master -of several old languages in his time." I noticed Langler's brow twitch, -but did not imagine that the matter was of any importance; I saw, -indeed, that the letters on the pieta were Greek, but all in capitals, -with the sigmas like C's, and much effaced, so my mind shirked the bore -of reading, and I turned away with the others from it. - -After this we were shown the baron's laboratory, the upper rooms, one of -the four towers, and were now escorted by Herr Tschudi, Herr -Court-painter, and the bear back to the gate, where Herr Tschudi parted -from us with profound reverences. - -"It is a fabulous place," Aubrey wrote of it, "imbued with an old -forlornness, and a waving of woods, and the pining of an alto wawl in -the windpipe of its airs," but certainly I felt rather foolish when I -left it, for I had learned nothing, and what we were now to do I had no -notion. At the entrance to the forest we met our old Lossow with his -pipe, and he climbed with me back to the guest-court, Langler meanwhile -striding well ahead of us, wrapped in silence. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE FACE OF DEES - - -On going into my sitting-room at the guest-court I beheld Langler -already there, with a busy pen in his hand and his hat still on his -head; he said nothing, nor could I guess what he was at, till, getting -up sharply, he handed me to read a note to Herr Tschudi in something -like the following words:--"Sir, you have, to my certain knowledge, one -Father Max Dees unlawfully confined in Schweinstein Castle, of which you -are the governor, his dungeon being the cell at the bottom of the -north-west tower. For such an act of flagrant unrighteousness there can -be no excuse whatever, and I have to address to you, in the pretended -absence of the castle-lord, the warning that, if within the next -twenty-four hours your prisoner is not released, then my friend, Mr -Templeton, and I will know how to coerce and duly punish you...." - -I was never more surprised!--every word of it was surprising! My first -words were: "but by what means are we to coerce and duly punish him?" - -"Oh, we shall find a way," said Langler: "I intend to be no longer -tentative and tolerant; Dees must now be set at liberty, or I shall act -with a certain rigour." - -"But, Aubrey----" - -"No; Arthur, we have already been sluggish and patient, we have lost -time--time. It is for us now to put our powers brusquely to the test." - -"I agree," said I: "let us put our powers to the test, let us act with a -certain rigour. But how? I confess that I don't understand you. Tell me -first how on earth you can know that Dees is not only still a prisoner, -but in the north-west tower?" - -"As to his being still a prisoner, that is on the surface of things," he -answered: "the slightest criticism applied to the words and manner of -Herr Tschudi would unveil the man's consciousness of that fact. He has -even caught the contemptuous, frank trick of his master, and was hardly -at the pains to be a hypocrite. When you said to him, 'but is Father -Dees still a prisoner, if one may ask?' his answer was: 'surely one may -ask; but all that was five long years ago, of course.' Very '_long_' -years--'of course.' No, he wouldn't have spoken at all like that if he -had not had Dees' present captivity in his consciousness; he wouldn't -have been stung to retort: 'surely one may _ask_,' but would have -answered at once with a careless 'Oh no.' And all his manner and other -words were in the same sense." - -"You are no doubt quite right," said I. - -"I am even sure of it," said he: "when I asked him as to the pieta, -whether it was ancient, how off-hand was his answer, 'fifteenth-century, -sir,' though he had previously called me a connoisseur, and might have -known, if he had troubled to think, that I should see his statement to -be untrue. The pieta is not at all in any of the moods of old Northern -work, and it bears the initials of Max Dees, who most likely made it. -But Herr Tschudi did not wish Dees to be a topic, and shunned his name -even at the cost of an untruth; nor would he have acted at all like -that, Arthur, if Dees had gone out of his life and care five 'long' -years ago--unless, indeed, there were unseen ears listening somewhere to -which Dees' name is ever a word forbidden in the castle." - -"Well," said I, "let it be taken as settled that Dees is still there in -prison; but how can you know that he is in the north-west tower?" - -"You didn't read the words in raised letters on the base of the pieta?" -he asked. - -"No, I didn't read them." - -"In what language do you imagine that they are?" - -"In Greek," said I. - -"No, in Hebrew," said he, "Hebrew words in Greek letters, and so put -there by a most knowing mind, I gather, the same mind and hand which -captured the wren, and sent her out with her message; and if you add to -these proofs of wit the craftsmanship in the pieta, and Herr Tschudi's -admission of Dees' oratory, you get an intelligence of many gifts, as -'brilliant' perhaps as 'Savonarola.' Dees apparently made the pieta some -time shortly before his imprisonment, when he was not without bodings of -his doom; and the Hebrew words in Greek letters were meant to baffle a -half-classic like the baron, in case it should ever occur to the baron -to read what he would assume to be some pious motto in such a place." - -"But what are the words?" I asked. - -"These, Arthur," said he: "'If I am killed, it will be the lord's doing; -if imprisoned, at the bottom of the north-west tower.'" - -"But that is nearly everything!" I cried: "what luck! I wonder what was -Dees' hope.... But do you mean to say, Aubrey, that you would betray to -Herr Tschudi that we are in possession of this wonderful piece of -knowledge?" - -"It has seemed to me that we have dallied and been mild more than -enough, Arthur." - -At this, I must confess, there rose in my mind the old rhyme: "he never -said a foolish thing, he never did a wise one." "But, Aubrey," said I, -"is it not clear that the last thing which we must do is to threaten and -challenge these people? We should only provoke a smile; even our -liberty, our lives, are in their hands. Pray listen to me in this for -Emily's sake, for all our sakes. We can effect nothing by impulse and -spasmodic high-handedness when our power is just nil. And if we betray -our knowledge of Dees' dungeon in this fashion, what is to prevent them -removing him to another?" - -"Well, your judgment is always good," said he, with a smile: "there -stands the letter, written, at any rate, but it need not be actually -sent; all life is the same tangle, I suppose, in which not only the why -but even the how of conduct remains enigmatic, and the maze is without -clue, save at its end," and he threw himself on our old sofa, with his -hands behind his head, while I at our window-garden of fuchsias and -oleanders tore up the note, looking down an avenue of the wood, till -presently I said: "I wonder if Dees' dungeon has a window?" - -"Castles of that date," answered Langler, "have not usually -dungeon-windows; but Dees' dungeon has one, of course." - -"How do you know?" - -"But didn't he send a bird from it?" - -"Well, of course. Well, then, since there is an opening of some sort, -the thing for us now to do is to get at Dees, and _he_ will tell us how -to work out his release. I believe that it can be done, if he is really -in the north-west tower, for the north wall of the castle rises sheer -from the river-cliffs, which are only some thirty feet high." - -Langler sat up at my words, and for the rest of that evening we were -discussing this thing on every side. - -The next (Monday) morning I rode five miles towards Speisendorf, where -I got a boy to buy for me forty metres of rope, and on coming home spent -the remainder of the day in my room making a rope-ladder; on the Tuesday -I purloined two hooks from a shanty in the cow-yard to fasten to my -ladder; and at midnight of that same day I was face to face with Max -Dees. - -I shall never forget that night, that experience, it was so tenebrous -and windy, all was like a scene in Erebus--the castle, the cliffs, the -forests, not a light anywhere on the earth or in the heaven, and my -heart, like the midnight thief's, was in my mouth. We left the -guest-court by stealth, hurried down the forest, and at the river -launched the fishing-boat which I had previously fixed upon--a nasty -piece of work, for that small river falls some five feet, and by ill -luck the tide was at ebb, so we had to push down the boat through slush, -and when we had got under the castle I had to climb through more slush -to the cliff. Langler remained in the boat, for there was nothing to -make her fast to. Above some ivy grew on the cliff, but none below. - -At a cranny where the cliff-surface was more broken I now began to cast -the ladder; but I had cruel luck at first, every cast making a racket of -which all the jackdaws on the rock and the very soul of the night seemed -to be conscious, and I regretted keenly that we had not tried our luck -with the wooden ladder of the guest-court, much too short though it was. -However, after a few throws, the grapples caught fifteen feet up, and -in the end, by three stages, I stepped over a crucifix at the top at a -point where a yew and an ash grew out of the bush at the cliff-edge; and -now not two feet from the edge was the north wall of the north-west -tower, and in it a window almost level with the ground. - -At that window I lay on my right side, I called upon Max Dees: and at -once, startling me, a hungry breath was with me; "yes," it whispered, "I -am here, you are come to deliver me--tell me!" - -"Yes, Dees," I whispered, "we are two----" - -"Gott!" he whispered, "speak low." - -I told him that his message sent out by the wren had come to us, and -asked what we were to do for him. - -"Yes, to deliver me," he whispered, "a good file, bring it to-morrow -night, in three nights I shall be ready to fly with you, go now, tread -softly, one good file...." - -"I shall bring the file," I whispered, "but our object in coming was to -be able to swear that you are actually a prisoner, and so move the -authorities----" - -"_Speak low_," he whispered horridly: "no, the file, the authorities -would not act against him--not for months, years, and he means to -crucify me.... Has the Church fallen?" - -"No; why?" - -"He vowed to keep me to see the downfall of the Church, which I loved, -and then crucify me, bring the file...." - -"He shall fail, I promise you, don't be so frightened, take comfort, -trust in God, trust in us, we mean to stick to you to our last -breath----" - -"Thanks, the file, go, go, one good file." - -"We sha'n't fail," I said, and I was now about to rise when, to my -dismay, I heard a noise in the bush, and, peering that way, my eyes made -out the form of a man. I was very unnerved. It came toward me along the -cliff-edge, and I had a thought of shooting, for a weapon was in my -trousers pocket, when I became aware of Langler!--a surprising thing, -seeing that he had arranged not to climb. He stooped to my ear, panting, -"is he there?" "Yes," I whispered, "but to what have you made fast the -boat?" "Gott, speak low," came in agony from the window-bars. "I made -her fast to the ladder," whispered Langler, "have you _seen_ him?" "One -can't now, go back," I whispered. "We should _see_ him," he whispered, -"so as to be able----" "It is all right; go back," I whispered, "no! no! -don't strike--" for I heard him about to strike a match; but the match -was struck, and in its shine we had a vision of a face all eyes in a -bush of black beard and hair; it seemed horrified at the striking of the -light! which, however, was hardly burning before it was puffed out by -the wind. - -It was at that moment that I became aware of a grating sound ten yards -along the cliff-edge where the ladder was, and immediately I heard a -splash in the river; whereupon, picking myself up, I pelted to the spot, -only to find the ladder gone. I understood at once that the boat, tied -by Langler to the ladder-foot, had dragged upstream (the tide was -rising), dragging the grapples aside from the arm of the crucifix at the -cliff-edge, and taking the ladder with her; and I felt hopelessness, for -how we were ever to get away it was hard to see, since I was aware that -some parts of the bailey-wall went up sheer from the cliff-edge. - -"Is the ladder gone?" whispered Langler. - -"Yes," I whispered, and I could not help adding: "pity you came up!" - -"I thought that I had better _see_ him, in order to be able to say that -I had," he whispered. - -"You might have said it without actually seeing, you know, Aubrey." - -"Hardly, I think, Arthur," said he. - -I would not answer, for at the moment, I confess, I was a little -impatient of Oxford and the academic stiff mind of the schoolmen. The -ladder was gone! that was the point: and with it all seemed lost. - -However, we presently started out eastward on hands and knees, until we -entered some narrows beyond which there was no venturing; then, having -turned, we once more went by Dees' window, who sent out to us some -momentous hist, which we were in too much misery of mind to heed; and -in the end, after somehow managing two danger-spots, we came out into -forest at the castle-back. From that point we saw for the first time a -light in the night, a light in a tiny window of the donjon--as to which -Langler made the reckoning that it was burning either in or near the -baron's laboratory. - -We then walked up through the forest, got by stealth into the -guest-court about two o'clock, and crept to our beds. I, however, could -not sleep, but lay living over again all our night-bewitched adventure: -the winds, the tremors and chances, seeing again the eyes and hearing -the gasps of that poor, darksome prisoner, and thinking of the loss of -the boat and of what that meant: for I knew that with the next ebb of -the tide the boat would very likely be recovered by her owner, with our -ladder tied to her, and with my jacket, waistcoat, and cap, and -Langler's hat, in her! so that what we had been about would too probably -soon be known in the castle and throughout the alp. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE UPSHOT - - -Early the following morning Langler and I had pretty sharp difference of -opinion at my bedside. I said to him: "Dees' own view of what is good -for himself is naturally worth more than yours or mine: a file is what -he says that he wants, and I believe that we can still get it to him if -we act now before the boat is found." - -"The boat may have already been found," said Langler. - -"Possibly," said I; "but no doubt the rumour will take some time to get -into the castle, so that if we act boldly at once, taking the ladder -here, we may get the file to Dees." - -"But we have no file," said he. - -"That is the least of it, surely," I answered: "Lossow has a big box of -tools; we can take a file." - -"No, frankly, Arthur, it would not be quite to my taste," said he. - -"What would not, Aubrey?" - -"This of the file: does it seem quite pretty and correct to allow -ourselves to become the abettors of any person in breaking open another -man's house?" - -I was silent: it was painful to me to believe that Langler could be -serious. "But in this case," said I, "the other man's house happens to -be a house in which the person is lawlessly imprisoned. Or is that not -so?" - -"True," said he; "but still, isn't it very well said that two wrongs do -not make a right? If you look at it with a certain sidelong criticism -and detachment, I fancy that you will just see that it would not be -quite decorous and becoming. No, it would not be decorous, and, -moreover, it is not in the scheme. We have now actually seen Dees in -prison, so the proper authorities can no longer refuse to act, and upon -them we must now cast the burden." - -"But the authorities _can_ refuse to act," said I, "for Baron Kolár, -remember, is no mere nobleman, but a political somebody, and the -authorities, if they do act, may take weeks, or 'months or years,' as -Dees said. True, the authorities are what we originally proposed: but we -did not then contemplate that _time_ would be the question, that Baron -Kolár might be here at home, or might have any purpose against the life -of this poor man--'crucify,' by the way, is the word which Dees used: -open your mind to it, Aubrey." - -"Well, but to me there is something fantastic in the mere word," said -he: "Dees' mind may be unhinged." - -"Not in the least, I believe," I answered. "Are crucifixions so very -unfamiliar to you? I say that if some circumstance or other once led -Baron Kolár to vow that this thing shall be done, then it will be done, -unless we act now out of the rut of ourselves, on a plane higher than -our everyday height. It is hard to do, of course, but perhaps we can -screw ourselves up to it. Let us think of Dees' agony of waiting for the -file to-night, to-morrow night, every night; and I promised him, I said, -'we sha'n't fail you, trust in us, we shall stick to you to our last -breath.' No, we can't fail him." - -"But you speak as though I proposed to fail him, Arthur!" said Langler. - -"No, you don't, of course, propose that," said I, "but still, we can't -let some qualm of primness or respectability in us cause the man to -curse Heaven: he should have the file; I know that Emily would agree -with me----" - -"Emily? No! Emily would hardly say, I think, that the principles of -conduct should be modified by pressing circumstances." - -"But did not David eat of the shewbread in pressing circumstances?" said -I: "I am convinced that Emily would agree with me, if I know her." - -"No, nego, nego." - -"Well, we won't dispute that," said I; "but still, let us think of Dees -waiting, despairing, conscious perhaps that Baron Kolár is in the -castle, with God knows what ghastly meaning. And to move the authorities -will take time, even if they be willing; and who can say what may -happen meanwhile to Max Dees?" - -"Then I shall know how to act this very day," said he, "neither -approaching the authorities nor giving Dees the file, but in another -vigorous, yet law-abiding, fashion." - -"Which fashion, Aubrey?" - -"I shall rouse the alp," said he, "I shall implant into each mind the -certainty of Dees' imprisonment, I shall ignite their indignation, and -lead them all to demand his release." - -For some time I made no answer to this; then I said: "well, do so; and, -if the human swineherds on this alp were theories, you might just -possibly succeed: remember, however, that, in the event of your failure, -it will be too late then to take the file, for the news of the boat and -ladder will certainly by that time have reached the castle, and Dees -will thenceforth be strictly guarded, or removed to another dungeon." - -"Well, but I won't fail," said he--"at least let us hope that I won't -fail, Arthur; one can but try one's purblind best, and it may perhaps be -that time and tide will happen to him." - -"Yes, I see how you feel, I see," said I; "but you know the awe, and -even affection, which all these people here cherish for the baron: how, -then, can you expect to 'lead' them against him? If you do manage it, -the baron will send Herr Court-painter to stare them away with his -spectacles----" - -"No, I think that you underestimate the good people," he answered: -"though indolent in the presence of a suspected wrong, they will not be -slow to rise against a proved wrong. Do let us have some little trust in -our kind." - -I felt myself, as it were, caught in the toils with this sudden scheme -of Langler's, seeing quite clearly, as I did, that no good would come of -it, but the more I argued the more I seemed to fix him in it, till at -last it almost looked as if a crick of contradiction to me had entered -into his motive. I saw, indeed, his point of view: to approach the -authorities might be fatally slow, to give Dees the file was -"improper"--a touch of bigotry perhaps being added to this latter view -by my unlucky claim that his sister would believe it proper, for he was -touchy as to her judgments, and inflexible whenever the moral, or even -the proper, was at all involved; but still, his way out of the fix -appeared to me too wild. At one moment I even had the thought of taking -the file to Dees without him, but I saw that I should probably fail -single-handed; and, moreover, _he_ was the head in this matter: to his -house, not to mine, Max Dees' wren had come, and I had merely -accompanied his undertaking. - -Well, what happened that day is tedious to me to tell, and shall be told -shortly: first, I saw Langler in head-to-head talk with Lossow, our -host, who, though very friendly with us, had never yet let one word of -Dees' history escape his lips; then after all the talk, the -head-noddings, the finger-countings, I saw Langler giving money--a good -mass of it, too--and I thought to myself: "what, has it become a -question already of bribing the 'good people'? the disillusionment will -grow!" Lossow then wrote out a list of names, which Langler conned, and -near eleven in the morning they two rode out together. I offered to be -with them: but it was felt that my heart was hardly in the business, and -I was left out of it behind. - -At one o'clock Lossow came back alone, and hurried to me, mopping his -bald head, where I sat at the foot of a tree. This old man always seemed -by some movement of the mouth to be trying to keep back a smile, but -without success; he was stout and chubby, his arms hung from his stooped -shoulders with a certain paralysed look, and he stepped short like a -woman. "Kiss the hand!" he said, beaming, "all goes well, we have ridden -like blackriders, and canvassed the folk. Herr Somebody will not only -come, but will bring his two sons and his three day-labourers, and by -three o'clock you will see gathered here the bravest swarm of them." -"That should mean good trade in the beer for you, Lossow," said I. "The -beer? good trade? for me?" said he, taken aback, "well, no doubt, folks -must drink after all, folks must drink, what would you have? There's -Karl and Jakub So-and-so have already struck work, and mean to make a -day of it--it is the richest affair this day! You'll see them come -gaping here like fish presently, the blessed swarm of them!" "But why -gaping?" said I, "hasn't Herr Langler explained why they are to come?" -"Ach, not to all," he answered, "for I whispered to Herr Langlaire, -'hasten with leisure,' 'many heads, many minds'; they of these parts are -a curious lot, you know, oh, a curious lot, you wouldn't understand them -even after many years, for one must be born among them." "On the -contrary, Lossow," said I, "I understand you through and through: you -mean that, if Herr Langler had told them everything, they would have -been afraid to show their noses, and the rich affair would have been -spoiled." "Ah, you are a rogue!" said he, "well, between us, it was -something like that: what would you have? one is nearer to himself than -to his neighbour. After all, these bauers and landsasses here are a -mean-spirited swarm, what can you expect? As for me, if I had been they, -I should have demanded the release of the Pater Dees long ago, yes, -I!--if I had been they. Still, some of them _have_ been told all, and -there's Herr Somebody coming with his two sons, Wolfgang and Ernst----" -"Who is this Herr Somebody?" I asked. "What," said he, "not know Herr -Somebody yet? the Mittel-frei? with fifty acres of beet on the yon side -of the Schwannsee? Between us, he keeps a little grudge against the -baron, and is all for a lark, with a carouse to follow"----in this way -he kept on gossiping, trying not to smile, but smiling, and full of the -heyday. Langler, it appeared, was still "canvassing the folk," had five -cottages more to visit, but would be back for dinner, which Lossow at -last hurried off to see to. - -Langler, returning near two, threw himself upon our sofa with a sad -sigh, saying: "well, so far, so good; but the boat has been recovered, -Arthur; all is known, and your things and my hat, with the ladder, have -been taken to the castle. Perhaps some of them will shrink from coming -to the rendezvous now." He sighed again. - -"As to the boat," said I, "that I quite expected: it is calamitous, but -I expected it. But as to the rendezvous, I doubted that you would still -adhere, Aubrey, to this strange action upon which you have embarked." - -"But you speak of it, Arthur, as strange! Is it not as natural as the -unfolding of a flower to appeal to one's human fellows in a case where -humanity has been outraged? True, these people are not quite gilt with -perfection--ah, no! one must admit that; but their rudeness is the -plainness of honesty, they are robust and good, and, after all, I have -had more success with them than I could have hoped." - -"But you have not told them for what purpose you want them to come." - -"No, not told it to all, not yet." - -"And when you do tell them, do you imagine that they will march to the -castle?" - -"Yes, they will rise, they will act: men are not sheep after all." - -"But suppose they rise, and act, and march, what then? Will they tear -the castle down like the Bastille?" - -"No, certainly, not that: but truth alone is huge, surely; justice by -itself is the shout of a host. We shall see how it turns out. One after -all can only steer by one's best chart, Arthur, casting one's cause upon -the immortal gods, not without hope. But here is Lossow come to call us -to dinner." - -In peeped a face trying not to smile, but smiling, and we went down to -dinner in the old kitchen, soon after which I began to note the shy -arrival of Hans and Klaus, one by one, two by two, who all slunk into -the beer-room on the left of the porch, and I heard later on (though not -from Langler) that drink was free that day. Meantime Langler was pacing -our sitting-room with a strenuous brow, preparing, I think, a speech. - -Down below grew a noise of tongues, and soon after three o'clock in -looked Lossow busily, giving out the whisper: "they are all in the -beer-garden waiting!" this beer-garden being a yard with tables, swings, -etc., behind the house, which was L-shaped. Upon this Langler paced yet -twice, took up hat and thorn-stick, and said quietly to me: "well, then, -let us go." - -Below we stood under the verandah, and with us were Lossow, Frau Lossow, -their four daughters, and two servants; before us in the garden a mob of -some fifty, with a few women and infants, earth-born beings, one of whom -bore a broomstick with a rag for flag: this was Herr Somebody!--I think -the name was Voss or Huss--a sloven, red rascal like a satyr. Some few -gaped silent, "like fishes," but it was evident to me that the mind of -the meeting was waggish; and Langler, standing against the -verandah-rail, addressed them. - -He was palish, but then his brow reddened, and, on the whole, I was -surprised how well he spoke, since German was strange to his tongue; he -kept putting his palms to the rail and catching them up again, and -bowing forward and up again, and I felt how very foreign, very trying -and hard, to him all this must be; but he became earnest, speaking -feelingly, and I could have cried to see him spending his soul upon that -herd, appealing to them as brothers where no brotherhood was, giving -them news of justice and of compassion and of passionate intrepidity, -where only pigs and mugs were understood. Several times he was stopped -by the ribald Herr Voss or Huss waving the broomstick, and whooping some -such cry as "on to the burg, you clowns! let's souse old Tschudi in the -river-water!" - -"Well, now," said Langler, "let us go: all of us together: with the -fixed purpose not to leave the castle without bringing back our poor -prisoner with us. We will carry no weapon in our hands, no, yet we shall -be great in power. Let us go; and I shall go in front, and my friend -here, too, will come, to strengthen us." - -I think that he was about to say more: but just now, on a sudden, behold -Herr Castle-governor Tschudi in his smoking-cap standing with us. I -first heard a guffaw behind me, then at once the man was beside Langler -at the verandah-rail, and at once he was crying out jokes to this or the -other of the crowd, cutting Langler short, asking one how his horrid old -swell-foot was, assuring another that his old woman was at that very -moment making a cuckold of him, egging on another to go at once to the -castle to rescue the _saintly_ and _grateful_ Pater Dees; and the throng -was roaring with laughter when, all at once, the man's face took on a -look of ire that strongly reminded one of his over-lord, and he ordered -them all instantly to be gone to their abodes. - -Langler made not one other effort, for he was not one to strive and cry, -and the power over the mob of the coarse-grained man beside him was so -obvious. As the crowd began to flow away my friend turned to me, and -smiled. - -The last I saw of our army was Voss or Huss marching loudly away, -broomstick held aloft, against the burg, in the midst of a crew of some -eight or ten. - -As these disappeared, Herr Tschudi tapped me on the arm. - -"Sirs," said he, "kiss the hand: will you have the goodness to step this -way with me?" - -We followed him into a room opening upon the verandah. - -"Those articles yours, sirs?" said he, pointing to a chair on which lay -our rope-ladder together with my jacket, waistcoat, and cap, and -Langler's hat, left in the boat. - -"Yes," said I, "they are ours." - -"Well, I have brought them for you," said he; "but I have now to suggest -to you, sirs, that you leave the alp before noon to-morrow." - -"Is it a threat?" cried I, starting. - -The man made me no answer, but laying his hand upon Langler's arm, said -to him: "don't take it as a threat; I suggest it to you in a friendly -way: listen to me. You have shot a buck (made a blunder) in coming here, -and you will spin no silk by remaining longer. You have been strangely -lucky so far, owing to the fact that your intentions are amiable; but -you know nothing, you are groping in the dark on the brink of a -precipice. You go away now." - -"Well, your advice seems to be kindly meant," said Langler, "and we -thank you. But there is no chance of its influencing us at all, Herr -Tschudi." - -"Then I leave it to you," said Tschudi, "God guard," and he strode away. - -We two then went up to our sitting-room, where we spent the evening and -most of that night. Little was said between us. Langler was not well, -and complained of a pain in the heart. He was, indeed, very deeply hurt, -and said to me with a meekness that made my heart ache: "I shall never -again act against your judgment, Arthur, in such a matter. Oh, I thought -men nobler, and the gods less niggard." It was useless to go to bed, for -I never heard such a racket, the wind was rough, and the crew of -peasants, who had gone away only for a time, were below, since drink -already reckoned for was to be had that night. Till quite into the -morning their music, quarrelling, and roars of merriment rose up to us -through the roaring of the tempest in the forest--hour after hour--so -that I pitied Langler, who, I knew, must be feeling that the money which -he had laid out with fond hopes of good was working harm. Between the -noises he and I deliberated as to what was now to be done by us; but -there was nearly nothing to be said, since nothing remained but to -address ourselves to the law of the land. I wanted him to come, too, -with me to Gratz, but he said, what was true, that it was useless for us -both to go; he was weary and disillusioned, and perhaps Herr Tschudi's -command to go had something to do with his will to stay, but I was -unwilling to leave him, and begged him to go down at least to -Speisendorf or Badsögl; but no, he would stay where he was. At last the -noises died down, and some time after two we went to bed. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -AT GRATZ - - -The next morning I came upon our Hanska in Speisendorf street, hands in -pockets, whistling (as ever) at the crucifix on the mountain. This knit -little chit of a man had a pride in his cylinders and some flea of -flight in his brain; he and his car were well ready for me, and we -reached Gratz in the early afternoon after a charming ride. - -I had no hope that affairs would go flyingly with me in Gratz, and -thought to myself, "this will be a matter of some days"; but it was -three weeks before I left the town. - -Whether those were trying weeks for me will be divined: I was afraid for -Dees, afraid for Langler up there alone in the mountains, and afraid to -open the letters from Swandale which he forwarded on to me. Miss Emily -had, in truth, become awfully eager and anxious! all too eager and -anxious, I thought. _Why_ the delay, she wished to know! I had begged -Langler to write her fully of everything as it happened, but no, he -chose to be general and vague, and this only enlarged, instead of -lulling, her fears. She was now back in Swandale, living partly with the -Misses Chambers, and was quite well, she said. But something in me -boded that she was not so well as she said. - -Hence those weeks in Gratz were rather to me like three years. Among -Langler's letters of introduction was one to a Herr Müller, a -grain-merchant in the Holz Platz, upon whom I first called; he received -me heartily, and introduced me to a certain Herr von Dungern, a lawyer, -who said to me in his office on the morning after my arrival: "I'm -afraid that that letter of yours written from England to Public -Safety--_foh! foh!_--unsupported by evidence as it was, will now be -against you." He was a fine, soldierly man, but afflicted with something -which caused him to mix in all his talk this _foh! foh!_ flung sideways -with venom. "But," said I, "that old letter of ours must be forgotten by -now." "Oh no," he answered; "there it still lies in the Evidenz-bureau, -and you know that interest in a question once dead is not easily -revived." "That may be," said I, "but I can now take oath that I have -seen the Pater Dees in his dungeon, and here is Mr Langler's written -statement, which you will duly formalise for me." "True, true," said he, -"very true. Well, it is a matter--_foh! foh!_--for the Blessed Virgin -and Herr Oberpolizeirath." - -I now know that this Herr von Dungern was a tenant of land under Baron -Kolár, but still, I can't accuse him of untrustiness to me, only of -slowness--of intentional slowness, I think. It was not till the -following morning that I was brought to the bureaux with the affidavits, -and then it was from bureau to bureau, each interview somehow filling up -the better part of a day, and everyone as it were laying his hand over -his mouth at the high scandal which I was so bold as to air. "But," said -I to Herr von Dungern as we drove away on the fourth evening, "_some_one -must be the final authority! I have now been referred up and up from a -common Sicherheits-wache-serjeant to two Polizeiraths, and still no end -to it." "Lands, manners," said he, with a shrug--"every country has its -usages." "Just so," said I, "but I am still at a loss to know why I have -spent my afternoon with Herr Polizeirath of Central Inquiry in a case -where there is nothing to inquire into." "Well," said he, hardly very -honestly, "one, of course, must see Herr Polizeirath before one can see -Herr Oberpolizeirath." "Yes," said I, "Herr Polizeirath of Safety, but -why, after all, Herr Polizeirath of Inquiry? the interview seems to have -been as needless as it was long!" "You do not--_foh! foh!_--understand," -said he. "No," said I, "I do not, and it is very trying." "I am grieved -from the heart," said he, "for I foresee that your patience is about to -be tried; but you must amuse yourself, since everyone in our city is -eager to entertain you, and the good Lord, thank God, does not grudge us -any innocent gaieties; my wife and daughters in especial look forward -with keenness to seeing you at our birthday-ball." "But that is a week -hence!" said I: "do you anticipate that I shall still be in Gratz?" "Ah, -it may be!" said he, "we shall see: to-morrow at eleven we appear before -Herr Oberpolizeirath of Safety himself...." - -This Herr Oberpolizeirath, whose name was Tiarks, was a gross old man, -all slashed and epauletted, with a nose like a bunch of blackberries in -August. I was received by him in a chamber which brought back to my mind -the scented answer which he had sent to our letter from Swandale, and -from the first I had little hope in this old man. "But what, sir," he -asked me, "is your motive in this affair?" "A motive of humanity," I -answered: "a bird sent out by the captive with a note bound about its -leg came to the house of my friend; we felt bound to investigate the -matter; we have done so; and we now place it with confidence in your -hands." "But," said he, "in order to see this captive, you must have -entered upon Schweinstein Castle by stealth?" "Yes," I answered -cuttingly, "but that, I take it, is not a point which will distract your -Honour's attention from the proved fact of an outrage committed within -the scope of your jurisdiction." "But," said he, his face flushing -purpler, "perhaps you will find, sir, that the Austrian authorities are -not inclined to allow themselves to be pleased with chords (pretensions) -strung too high." "I have already found it, Herr Oberpolizeirath," said -I. "Ach, it is an affair, this!" sighed he faintly to himself, with a -waved hand, and eyes cast upward. - -In the greater part of the interview I had no share, but sat staring at -the apple-green walls, while Tiarks and von Dungern laid their heads -together apart. Such shrugs, such spreadings of both palms, and gazings -over the rims of spectacles, one never saw! Then came the proposal that -I should drop my plaint for a time, till the baron should be given a -chance to set free his captive; to which I answered angrily: "But is -Baron Kolár to be forewarned by those who should be his judges? He will -never of himself set free this captive, and if he be given hints and -nudges in the dark I shall consider that both justice and myself have -been betrayed." "Eh, eh, we know that the English hold no leaf before -the mouth!" cried Herr Oberpolizeirath, with a waved hand: "but do you -imagine, sir, that the baron does not already know what is being done? -Poh, he knows; all Gratz knows. And would you not prefer to withdraw the -plaint a little, rather than see it referred to the President at Vienna, -and then perhaps up to the Provincial Diet itself after several months? -Come, take your lawyer's advice; and meantime, if you stay on in -Gratz--why, we know that every young man craves for the society of the -opposite sex--saving the claims of religion, mind you, saving the claims -of religion; but between us three here, you can't beat Gratz for female -loveliness: what, von Dungern? Yes, sir, drop the plaint a little, and -on the 7th of the month you have the Statthalterei Ball, on the 8th -Count Attem's, on the 9th the Prince-bishop of Seckau comes into -residence, with street-processions, church-rites"--and more of this -sort. In this way this old fogey thought to stroke my beard with honey, -as the Germans say. Of course, I did not drop the plaint, and it was -formally heard the next day before a lower commissary: but I might as -well have dropped it! From the tenth day I began to despair, for I had -by then been put through even the formality of giving the date of my -mother's birth, had interviewed at the rathhaus, land-hause, Schlossberg -people whose relation with the affair seemed to be as remote and -entangled as possible; and I said then to myself: "Max Dees was right: -they don't mean to interfere." - -Meantime I wrote daily to, and heard from, Langler, and enclosed in his -letters came some from Swandale which made the delays of the authorities -maddening to me, because of a panting for our return which those letters -now appeared to reveal. Alas, at the bottom of her heart Miss Emily did -not believe that we should ever return to her, I think; but mixed with -this under-despair was that hope which is common to all the living, and -I believe that it was this hope battling for breath against this despair -which gave rise to this sort of fierce haste that now possessed and -hissed in her to see our faces yet once again. - -Gratz, meantime, was as lively a town, both in a social and religious -way, as it is ever a charming one. I saw the fęte of the Visitation of -the Blessed Virgin, and that of the Precious Blood on the Sunday -following, and each time I peeped into St Ćgidius it was full of people -praying, with a priest or two pacing among them, like well-satisfied -shepherds, while in the lesser churches also was much the same sight. I -had nothing to do at night, and to escape from myself went to two balls, -at the first of which a little German monk, who reminded me of Luther, -gave a homily on the lawfulness of innocent amusements. But I was sick -of Gratz by the eleventh day, and was wrought to throw up everything, -when something gave me a new thought. - -On that eleventh day I was strolling in an alley of the Stadt Park when -I saw coming towards me a girl whom I had long known--a particularly -pretty little girl named Rosie, who for some years had been in the -service of my sister, Lady Burney, but now was in the service of the -Duchess of St Albans. When I expressed my surprise at seeing her, her -answer was: "the duchess is on the way to Vienna, but stopped at Gratz -to have an interview with Baron Kolár; she understood in London that the -baron is at Schweinstein, but he isn't, as it turns out, and no one -seems to know where he is somehow, so I don't know what our next move -will be." - -We sat under a tree within sound of the band, and had a long talk that -afternoon, for this servant-girl seemed to know everybody of any -importance in Europe and the secret history of all that was going on, so -she not only kept me amused, but posted me anew as to things and men in -an astonishing way. Her mistress was, of course, the great lady in -English politics, and had a habit, Rosie said, of making her her -messenger, and even of "consulting her opinion"! Speaking of Ambrose -Rivers, she said that he had now won a following of over eight hundred, -and had opened a church in Kensington, to which she had once gone: "it -is a kind of a cross between a theatre and a gymnasium," said she, "but -the duchess regards him more as a crank than as a serious force in -religious politics, and he only owes it to Dr Burton's illness that he -has not been already brought under the consistory court. Ah!" she added -in her bright way, "I saw that fit of Dr Burton's!" "What, you were -present?" said I. "I alone," said she: "I was even the cause of it." -"How do you mean--the cause of it?" I asked. "I'll tell you," said she, -"but, of course, it is between us, sir. Never was so frightened in my -life! It was about nine in the evening, at the palace, the duchess had -sent me with a note, I was to wait for an answer, and was led into a -room in that Blore part. The Archbishop, who was at a table covered -with papers, laid the note by his side, said 'take a chair' to me, and -went on writing. I noticed that he was not looking well: every two -minutes he heaved a sigh, twice got up to look for something, but seemed -to forget what, and sat down again without, and he would press his hand -to his brow, as if he had a headache. Presently he sprang up, and began -to pace about: all this time, mind you, he hadn't opened the duchess's -note, nor seemed to be aware that I was anywhere, and I, of course, sat -quite mum, taking stock of my archbishop. But, all at once, he saw me, -looked at me--didn't say anything, went on pacing, but I noticed that he -turned pale, and several times after that he looked at me, growing paler -and paler, till at last, making up his mind, he came to me: I never saw -anyone so ghastly gaunt! he frightened me! And what do you think his -Grace said, sir? 'Well, pretty, do you love me?'" - -"Dr Burton? said _that_? 'well, pretty, do you love me?'" - -"Yes, he said it--in such a secret voice; and he was pale, pale...." - -"But--what did _you_ say?" - -"My answer was a scream, sir, for the words had hardly passed his lips -when he was on the ground in a fit. The doctors say, by the way, that if -ever he has another, he will slip his cable." - -Some of Rosie's phrases were not utterly pretty, and her anecdotes so -numerous that one doubted whether they could be all quite true; but, -assuming this of Dr Burton to have at least some truth, I was very -shocked, very deeply moved, and I got from her a promise not again to -mention it during the doctor's lifetime. - -When I asked her what was the big thing at the moment in England, "Oh, -still Education," she answered in her off-hand manner: "it is nearly -through the Commons now, but the Church isn't going to hear of it. This -bill puts an Eton education within the reach of every boy, as in France -and elsewhere, and it does seem hard that the Church should stand in the -way when anyone can see that England is perishing for lack of just this -thing: but that is the Church all over--the old enemy of light." "Why, -Rosie, you are not a good Catholic!" I said. "Oh, well," said she, "one -must submit one's reason to God, of course; but still, one's private -thoughts will peep through. However, the Church was defeated over -Diseased Persons, and she may be over Education, too: Mr Edwards, I -know, means fight, and so does the duchess." "But Diseased Persons was -won through the discovery of that body and cross in Bayeux," said I: "do -people, by the way, still discuss that discovery?" "Nothing has ever -been made of it that I know of," she answered: "but some queer things -were said, as some queer things were said of the disappearance of Dr -Todhunter, and it gave a shock to the Church somehow, till two more of -the visions were seen, and that turned people's minds away." - -On the whole, the girl proved a mine of modernity: but what causes me to -mention her here is a criticism of some of her words made by Langler, -and a meditation which occurred in my mind in consequence of that -criticism, not without definite result. - -On the night of our meeting I mentioned her in my usual letter to -Langler, and in his next to me were the following words:--"This Rosie, -you tell me, says that Baron Kolár is not at Schweinstein: but you and I -believe differently! That voice and those two English words which you -heard on the night when we were saved from drowning, and that light in -(?) the castle laboratory on the night when we saw Max Dees--these, -indeed, are hardly proofs; yet we do _have a feeling_ that he is there: -and I have asked myself what can be his reason for hiding his presence -there, if he is there, even from political people like the Duchess of St -Albans. The reason suggested to my mind is that he may really mean to do -Max Dees some harm, with the odium of which he does not wish to be -afterwards pestered. Dees, it seems, has somehow wronged him, and -vengeance is to be taken. But why, then, one might ask, does the man not -take his vengeance and be done? It seems to be because Dees is being -reserved till something else first happens, till (according to Dees -himself) 'the downfall of the Church.' But, in that case, why is the -baron _at present_ lurking in Schweinstein? Perhaps it is in order to -hurt Dees _prematurely_, before 'the downfall,' in case you and I should -make serious headway in the matter of effecting Dees' release. But if -this be so, it would seem to show that the baron must have some real -fear of our power to release Dees. Indeed, he _has_ such a fear: why -else did he hurry hither the moment he saw that we could no longer be -kept away from Styria? How sensitive he must be of the least chance of -Dees' escaping him! Yet he is not a nervous man; one would imagine that -he might securely have left Dees to the care of the watch-dog Tschudi! -But no, he flies to the spot in person. And those two outrages upon the -innocent hands--how sensitive, how frightfully in earnest he must have -been to keep us from meddling! But that earnestness certainly implies a -fear of our power--of our power, which seems to be nil. It must be, -then, that the baron perceives that we have some power of which we -ourselves are not aware." - -There Langler's discernment seems to have stopped short; but his words -so struck me, that I could not forget them, and after a sleepless night, -which I shall ever remember, towards morning this thought was born in my -head: "but Max Dees is a _churchman_! this is the heyday of the Church, -so it is through the Church perhaps that his release may be wrought; and -the baron, more far-seeing than we, has long seen this, and has feared -our power, because it seemed certain to him that we, too, must see it! -Here have I been tossed from Herr to Herr and from pillar to post; but -the Prince-bishop of Seckau is in Gratz, and it is to him perhaps that I -should have gone." - -Thus oddly, one might say awfully, do things come off: if I had not met -that girl in the Stadt Park I might never have come at this meditation, -and everything, in the end, would have been otherwise than it was. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -END OF DEES - - -It was on my seventeenth morning in Gratz that, having been fortified -with a letter by Herr Oberbürgermeister, I saw the Prince-bishop: the -morning of an audience: so that I had first to wait a long time among a -mob of all sorts of men, who passed in one by one at the call of a -Spanish abbé with sandals on his feet, a lad of such beauty that one's -eyes clung to his face, till my turn at last came, and I was ushered -into a chamber almost Pompadour in style, with statues, mirrors, -flowers, through a door of which one could see, and smell, the -palace-chapel. The Prince-bishop was pacing the floor, shut up within -himself. I think that I never saw a more imposing figure, for he was -big, and, having lately come from the chapel, had on a most gorgeous -large cope, the apparel of his amice sticking up stiffly about his jaws -under a dalmatic that might have bought a farm. Here was the Church in -the awe of her gaudery. He looked a young man of not more than -thirty-five, and stood like a king; but his lengthy chin was retreating, -and he had some kind of lisp which made his speech rather common and -silly. - -He motioned me to a chair, and as I unfolded my tale quietly enough he -listened, pacing, pacing; but the moment I had finished he reddened, -and, suddenly placing his two palms far forth on the table, bringing his -face down to mine, the good man glared at me, giving forth the roar: -"_Impious scoundrel!_" - -I, for my part, felt myself flush, and half rose to answer the insult, -for I fancied that he meant me: but he meant Baron Kolár! - -During the remainder of our half-hour's interview it became clear to me -that there had been long-standing feud and war before this between the -prince-bishop and the baron, an old trial of strengths never yet -decided, but now to be decided; and when I deposited the affidavits with -the great churchman I deposited them certain that I had at last -discovered the key to the dungeon of Dees. - -And so it proved: for, to cut short the story of intrigue, and -runnings to and fro, and hurried breaths, during the next three -days, on my twentieth day in Gratz a body of garrison-soldiers and -sicherheitswachmänner, numbering twenty-seven, set out from Gratz for -the mountains, I being in the rail-train with them, after having sent to -Swandale the telegram: "All goes well; you will see us within four -days." - -These officers of the law were sent out in secret, under orders to -break into any part of Schweinstein Castle if need were, and to set free -the priest. I parted from them at Badsögl at four in the afternoon, -hurrying on upward on horseback, while the troop followed, travelling -afoot. Langler and I clasped hands under the corn-sheaf hung in the -guest-court porch, where he stood expecting me, looking, I thought, -remarkably well, with the good old smile stretching his lips. It was a -most happy meeting: I had returned in triumph to find him safe, with a -bundle of edelweiss as white as his soul in his hands and a fine brown -in his skin. "Well done, Arthur," said he to me, and I to him: "all -through you." "No, nego, nego," he answered. "Well, the point is," said -I, "that our pains are all but over, and Swandale once more in sight." -"Ah, Swandale," said he, "well, that, too, by God's mercy. Did you -telegraph to Emily?" "Yes," I answered. "I, too," said he. "Do you -think," I asked, "that anyone up here knows yet of the coming of the -troop?" "I fancy that Lossow knows," said he. "I wonder how?" said I. "I -don't know," said he, "but I fancy that it is anticipated; however, it -can be of no importance, since the troop are under vigorous orders." -"Let us hope not," said I; "well, but I am very hungry." Just then -Lossow's face appeared, trying not to smile, but chubbily smiling, so we -ordered a meal, and, passing inward, I was met at the foot of the stair -by the "kiss the hand, sir!" of the frau, of her children, and of all -the household. At that moment, at any rate, I may say that these people -wore their wonted faces, and seemed to have no weight on their minds. - -While I was feeding upon the old gansbrust and beet, Langler and I made -up our minds that we had better be at the burg when Dees was set free, -so as to seize upon him, hear whatever he might have to tell, and then -speed down in the waggonette to Badsögl, whence we would wire Dees' -story to England, and so, having won our backs bare of the world's -business, make for home. All this was settled. My trunk was waiting -below at Badsögl; Langler's was ready packed. - -In the midst of our talk a boy of the place named Fritz brought us a -telegram: it was from Swandale, and in the words: "Yours received, -praises to God, beloved, shall await you Friday night at 9.17 at latest; -am quite well, but try, will you, for Thursday." Langler read, and -handed it to me. Now, every word from Swandale always powerfully moved -him, so I was surprised now that his first words were: "but what is the -matter with Fritz?" I answered that I hadn't noticed. "Well, he seems -much agitated," said Langler. - -I ended my meal, and we sat by our window, smoking and still talking -about our plans. I was in the act of looking at my watch, and of saying -"within fifteen minutes now the troop should be at the castle-gate," -when we were startled by the toll of a bell. It seemed to come from the -burg. Langler and I looked at each other, as the toll was anew borne to -us, shivering up through the forest on the soughs of the evening-breeze. -"Someone must be no more," murmured Langler in a low tone. I uttered no -word in answer: I was all hushed and bemused into the mood of the tolls; -all the mountain seemed hushed now on a sudden in submission to their -meaning and the tremolo of their bleating treble. I murmured to Langler: -"they seem to be tolling at the burg; someone must be dead." - -The tolling of the bell went on. Presently I got up, and struck the -triangle (our bell), in answer to which old Lossow rushed wildly in, no -smiling now, in that old man's looks the very ghost and gauntness of -awe. "Why, what is the matter, Lossow?" said I, "who, then, is dead?" -"Oh, good gentleman!" he groaned, with an appealing underlook. "But who -is dead?" said I again, at which repetition of my question the old man -now seemed to fly into a flurry, and crying out, "I know nothing, -nothing of it!" washing his hands of it, tripped with his petty steps -from the room. - -I looked at Langler, saying: "we shall learn nothing from him, so let us -start for the castle at once; by the time we get there the troop should -have come." - -We took umbrellas, Langler taking his greatcoat, too, for since my -arrival the weather had turned out rough. At the bottom of the stair we -saw the Lossows all in a knot, all with the same blankness and eyes of -awe, and without stopping to speak to them passed out and down through -the forest, which every few moments was swamped with shivery tempests -and volumes of commotion mixed with spray. It was well past six, but -there was still some twilight, save in the thick of the timber. Some way -beyond the forest we saw a group of men staring at the troop before the -burg with faces that told more plainly than words that something -tremendous must have awed all these people to the heart. The bell was -still tolling, and again tolling, even now telling out to the mountain -as with the tongue of a woman its tidings of good-bye and bereavement, -the castle flagstaff flying a flag at half-mast. We two hastened up the -footpath to the gate, with the river at flood on our right, to find the -men of the troop with their field-caps pushed back, their brows flushed -from the tramp, for the most part soldiers of the third army-division, -proud fellows, dressed in blue-grey _bluses_, with cockades and -greatcoats. Their leader had just handed his warrant to Herr Tschudi, -who lifted his eyes from it to fix upon us two, as we drew nigh, a look -of venom. He, too, was white, like every denizen of the valley that -untoward night; he strove to keep under his agitation, but the warrant -shook in his hand, crackled in the wind; and close behind him the castle -bell tolled, and again tolled. - -"Well, Herr Feldwebel," I heard him say, "there was certainly such a -prisoner in the castle as is named here, but I may tell you that he left -it over an hour ago." - -"So much the better, Herr Burgvogt," answered the other; "still, I must -make a search." - -"Willingly from the heart, since that is your pleasure," answered -Tschudi. - -"Who, then, is dead?" asked Herr Feldwebel: "I hear your bell tolling." - -"Oh, one of the men of the alp," was the answer. - -"Forward!" said the sergeant-major to his men. - -They stooped through the wicket, which closed after them, and Langler -and I were left alone. We waited at first under a wood of yews near the -outwork, but as there was lightning we drew away again into the open -before the portal, dressing our umbrellas against the wind, which anon -brewed drizzle. The twilight died out more and more bleakly; the bell -continued to toll. We stood silent, waiting. As for me, a fear was in -me. I felt that some doom may have overtaken Dees, though, in that case, -it seemed hardly to be believed that they would dare to toll the bell in -the very presence of the officers of the law; still, I feared; I think -that Langler did, too, but he said nothing of it; if we spoke, it was to -remark on the strangeness of the lightning, which up there on the -heights somehow strikes in different tints, now purplish, now greenish, -or rosy. We must have waited forty minutes when seven of the troop came -out, bearing pine-torches in their three-fingered gloves, and biting -sandwiches. I ran and asked one of them for the news. - -"He is not in there," was his answer, "we have searched every nook, and -are now going to look round." - -"Did you see Baron Kolár inside?" - -"No, the baron is not in the castle," he said. - -They ran up into the barbacan, ran down again in ten minutes, then ran -down the path to the south castle-side, and vanished from our sight. - -We abode between fear and hope. No sound was to be heard within or -without the burg but the sounds of the winds. It was almost dark before -we saw the torches of the troop of seven returning, these having -discovered no trace of Dees. They went back into the castle. Some -minutes later the whole troop of twenty-seven came out with lanterns and -torches. I approached the sergeant-major, to whom I was known, and had -some talk with him: all he could say was that the captive named in his -commission was nowhere in or near the castle, so that nothing remained -to him now but to march back down the mountain. - -We saw their torch-lights pass away down the castle-mound, and up to the -forest, and lost to sight, and still we loitered by the portal, not -knowing what to think or what next to do. - -"Perhaps we had better go back to the guest-court," I said at last; -"something may be learned there." - -Before Langler could answer the wicket opened, Herr Tschudi stepped out, -and, peering at us, cried jauntily: "kiss the hand, sirs! What, still -waiting to see the good Pater Dees come out?" - -Neither of us answered him. - -"You are only losing your time," he went on: "Pater Max, is it? the -blessed Max? But no saintly Max will come out here again, by Gott, no. -Look you"--his voice sank secretly--"I'll bite into the sour apple, and -give you a hint, just to satisfy you two men. You have been eager to see -the lovely saint--eager, eager: well, he is not a thousand metres off, -up yonder by the right river-bank, waiting now for you; you go, you will -find him, you were eager to see him"--and at once the man dashed inward -from us, chuckling, and slamming the wicket after him. - -"But what a fury!" said Langler. - -"Let me go up the river as he says, and _see_," said I, "and you wait -here till I come back." - -"But if you can go I will, too," he answered in a strained voice. - -We went by a path which, after skirting the castle-back, followed the -line of the cliffs a few feet from their edge. Occasionally, in a flash, -the river appeared at flood thirty to forty feet below; but mostly it -was so murky that we kept on missing the path; our minds, too, were -crowded full of gloom, for all that night seemed to us haunted with -ghosts and meanings of awe and fear. Some little distance from the burg -the river and cliffs had a sudden bend from east to north, thenceforth -the cliffs being clad to their foot in fir-forest, and we had gone past -this bend, and were going on northward, I holding Langler's arm, when, -at a lighting up of the scene of river and forest, we both stood still -in a fright. At one place at the base of the opposite cliffs was a patch -of sward some inches above the water, a very lonely little spot, and -just there, in the cut of the lightning, our eyes seemed to catch sight -of a crucifix. It was about twenty feet below us, perhaps fifty yards -beyond us. - -What stopped my breath was the fact that that was an uncommon place for -one of the wooden crucifixes common in Styria, and that I had never -chanced to notice a crucifix just there before, though I knew the cliffs -well; but we were still standing uncertain as to what we had actually -beheld, when somewhere someone was heard to say: "yes, it is my son Max -that you see nailed to that wood." - -The tone was like a woman's, and not remote, though our eyes could make -out no form in the dark; I seemed to find myself with the world of the -departed, and while I shrank there from the presence that was with us, I -remember hearing in the silence a roaring of waters against the arches -of the bridge and the banks of slime below; for the tide was turned, the -flood had convened, had teemed, had lasted, and was over now, and the -brimming river was streaming back down, as when hosts stream back -homeward from some supremeness and ritual, when all's over now and done, -and the mourners stream about the streets. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -STORY OF DEES - - -We had never till now even heard of a mother of Dees! so stern a silence -must have been imposed by the burg upon the mountain. - -"Yes," said the woman to us, "they watched me and the little Undine in -my cottage, dreading that I should bespeak the two foreigners, for I -fear neither them nor anything--the world knows it." We stood now with -her within a hütte, or cowshed, which let in the drizzle, and we had -lightning glimpses of a Roman face, and black locks, and proud rags, and -of a child whom she called Undine hugged in her powerful arms to her -bosom. - -"Tell us, if you can, about your son," Langler said to her, "but not if -that pains you, for our hearts bleed for you; we tried our best for him, -and our best has turned to your utter sorrow, but you will forgive us, -if you can, since we meant well." - -"But I do not sorrow!" she cried. "I am only glad and proud! There he -hangs nailed up like a bat; dead, sirs; with the wind of where he was -born blowing his hair. Is it Max? Is it the lad? It was for this, after -all, that you were born that Rosenkranz Sunday night. I said to you, -'take care, mind your steps, do not always fly on horses of wind,' but -you wouldn't hear, you wouldn't heed, and this is what it was to come -to. But better this than rotting in the dungeon--a grand death for a -grand lad! Yes, he defied them all, the lad! he thought himself the -equal of the baron's self, or of any prince of them. That lad! it is -strange, too, where I had the stuff about me to make the lad; his father -had nothing in the lad; none knew that lad but me, for a mother knows. -He came as a surprise, the lad: he set himself above them all! But now -you hang there, Max, for the eagles----" She was interrupted in this -species of raving by someone who, after peering near at us, suddenly -cried out: "now, Mother Dees, you know that you should be at home, get -you gone from this!" "I defy you all, Hans Richter!" shouted the mother -of Dees in answer. "You can do to me nothing worse than has been done to -him, and it is that which would be sweet to me." "Yes, yes, but you know -that I have caught you blabbing to the foreigners," said the man, "come, -come--" And at this I, understanding that he had laid hands upon her, -landed him a hit on the chest, whereat, without saying more, he took to -his heels. - -I suspected that he had run to report to the castle what he had seen, so -I pressed the woman to talk, and within some minutes we had from her -the tale of Dees' life. - -Max Dees was born of peasant parents thirty-two years before, within two -miles of Schweinstein burg. From his tenderest years the boy began to -notify a genius to whose nimbleness there appeared to be no end: he took -to painting and to playing the zither; he would make figures of wood and -stone and engines out of fragments of metal; he could cut out and make -his mother's clothes; at the age of eight he vested himself as a bishop, -and went preaching at every doorway of Jonah in the whale's belly and of -Lazarus raised out of the grave: everything he managed with ease and -mastery. However, he had tempests of passion, a craze for the other sex, -and no government over himself. - -The fame of his gifts came early to the baron's ears, and Max was early -established a pet in the castle. He was sent to the University of Gratz, -where he highly distinguished himself. As in Austria most of the priests -are of peasant birth, the baron decided to make of the genius a -churchman; and in due course Dees came to be the priest of St Photini's -in the castle-court. At that time Baron Kolár was a widower, with one -child, the joy of his eye, a little maid of sixteen named Undine. - -"But Max strung his chords all too high for the folk," his mother told -us; "I said to him: 'do not always fly on horses of wind,' but he would -not hear, he would not heed." The head of Dees, in fact, seems to have -gone half-mad with churchman's-pride; if anyone was lax in religion he -raged, he warned, he launched fines and penances. But no man is a -prophet in his own piggery; the alp men kicked against this rigour; and -there came a time when St Photini's was left almost empty of -worshippers. During all which Max Dees was the tutor of the little -Undine. - -It was in this state of things, when matters at the church had turned -from bad to worse, that a wonder happened: one Sunday night the handful -of worshippers in St Photini's beheld a vision hung in mid-air in the -nave--a lamb nailed to a cross: a real lamb to a real cross; they marked -the dripping blood, there could be no mistake. It chanced that the baron -was just then in residence, and present in the church: he, too, saw, and -was almost as awed as anyone. Wild was the effect: St Photini's was -thereafter the holy of holies, and Max Dees more the lord of the alp -than the lord himself. - -But this success must have been too much for the arrogant, weak head of -Dees. He now dared to let his eye rest on Undine. The baron was often -away at the Court in Vienna or elsewhere; often he had his Undine with -him; but once for five months he left her at home. He appears to have -had a fond confidence in Dees, though all this while he well knew that -Dees was an impostor; or perhaps his confidence was in his own coronet -and height above Dees, upon whom, moreover, he had lavished so many -bounties: for powerful men are but moderately precautious. At any rate, -on a certain Sunday morning when the baron returned to the burg after -this term of absence, he returned to learn that his girl had been hurt -by Dees. The people of the burg afterwards reported that he took it all -very patiently; went down to the church that morning, and, seated in his -easy-chair, enjoyed the oratory of Dees, sneering with his teeth at the -corpse who preached. Only, before this, he had locked Undine into the -chamber, from which she was never to come forth living. - -During that same afternoon the baron had a talk with Dees in the burg: -and it was rumoured about the mountain that he then made to Dees an -offer of the chance of marrying Undine--a marvellous offer on the part -of a German nobleman, if it be a fact; but the impudence of Dees was -even more marvellous than the father's meekness: the priest demurred to -disfrock himself by marriage: he trembled, and said no. - -That Sunday night the folk flocked as usual to the church in the -castle-court, and the bell ceased to ring, the people waited, but no Max -Dees appeared. The hour for the beginning of the office was long past, -and the congregation was murmuring, when all eyes were caught by a -vision hung in mid-air: but a disgusting one this time--one worthy of -Baron Kolár--a pig nailed to a cross, a real pig to a real cross. And -while they gaped at it, the head of the baron came up through the -trap-door of the vaults; he walked to the pulpit, went up into it. His -hands were red with blood. The people declared that in that one day the -man's hair had turned grey and his back had bent. And from the pulpit he -spoke to them. - -He told them that they would never see their friend, the Pater Dees, any -more, since he had proved ungrateful to his patron, and had that -afternoon been imprisoned in the burg, where he would probably be kept -for some years, till the time should be ripe for a still worse thing to -come upon him. He, the baron, had been sorry to shock them with the -vision of the pig, but he had ordained it so in order to clear their -minds completely of the effect of the vision of the lamb which they had -seen. That vision of the lamb had been contrived by the mechanical -genius of their friend, the Pater Dees. On the Sunday night, a year -before, when it had appeared the baron had locked Dees into a room with -him for three hours, and had compelled Dees to tell by what means the -vision had been produced. Dees had confessed that he had nailed a lamb -to a cross in the vaults, and by means of a dark lantern, some -limelight, and some plates of glass--a contrivance not new, yet new in -its perfection--had thrown, as it were, the ghost of the lamb into the -nave of the church. He, the baron, had successfully repeated the same -thing with the pig that evening for them to see. He believed now that -none of them would ever wish for any more church; if they should, he -made them an offer: let any six of them come to him and say so, and he -would supply them with a new priest. He would watch with interest to see -how they would act. Meantime he hoped that they would continue to be -good Christians in their homes; Christianity was the highest sign of -man, and could never be destroyed or abolished, but it was an affair of -aspiration and conduct, not of dogma: they might take it from him that -there was no truth in any one of its dogmas, and for some years he had -been casting about for an easy method of destroying the institution -which persisted in embarrassing the world with those dogmas. Perhaps -their friend, the Pater Dees, had now supplied him with such a method. -He would watch and see. But, meantime, they must never repeat to a soul -what had passed on the alp or what they heard him say that night; he set -up a secret between them and himself, because they were his, and he -loved them, and knew that they truly feared and loved him: but if ever -anyone should recount or imply aught to outsiders that would incur his -displeasure. - -So much Langler and I were able to gather from the Mother Dees' gabble. -As for the ill-starred Undine, she seems to have died in, or soon after, -giving birth to the five-year-old Undine of whom I had lightning -glimpses on the breast of the Mother Dees. This child, the granddaughter -of a nobleman, was in rags, and had never been seen by Baron Kolár: a -fact which chilled me with a sense of the changelessness of this man's -resentments. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -OUR FLIGHT - - -Anyhow, in this unforeseen fashion we now had in full the history of the -ill-fated Dees, to hear which we had started out for Styria. I now -whispered to Langler, "we should be quick"; but he, not perhaps quite -understanding my eagerness to be gone, lingered, trying to get the poor -woman to come with us, it was such a night, and she within sight of what -anon was lit up down on the strip of grass by the river's brink. Langler -offered to adopt the child straightway, but she would not part with it, -nor would she come with us, so we had to leave her, leading the van, -almost running, so that Langler, who was no runner, panted: "well, no -doubt it is as well to make haste." "Yes," I answered, "for I sha'n't be -astonished if some attempt be now made to keep us from leaving the alp. -That man who ran off has by now taken the news to the castle, where it -will be taken for granted that from the Mother Dees we have heard all, -and we may not be allowed to get away with so much knowledge in our -heads. In my opinion we oughtn't to go back to the guest-court for your -trunk, but hurry straight down to the nearest sennhaus, get horses----" - -"But I have five or six manuscript poems in the trunk, and the -Theocritus with all my notes," panted Langler, trotting after my haste. - -"Well, then, we must get the trunk," said I, "but it is dangerous: I -wish to Heaven that we were safe down at Badsögl...." - -At that moment--we were now at the castle-back--I saw the light of a -lantern, and a second later struck against Herr Tschudi. "Well met, -sirs!" he cried at once: "it is just for you that I was going to look, -for I have to talk with you; if not in a hurry, perhaps you would favour -me by stepping into the castle a moment." "I am afraid that we _are_ -rather in a hurry," I answered, "for we are wet, and have had nothing to -eat; but if to-morrow morning at eleven will do, we shall then be happy -to call upon you in the castle." "That will do just as well," said he, -"but mayn't you as well step in now?" "Pray excuse us for to-night," I -answered. "Willingly from the heart," said he, "since that is your wish; -but--has not the Mother Dees been telling you about things?" I was about -to say "which things?" when Langler said: "perhaps, sir!" "Oh, she has?" -broke out Tschudi, "but, you see, you two men have gone a step too far -now." "Come, Aubrey!" I cried out, "we can't wait!"--and I ran, dragging -him by the sleeve, while Tschudi sent after us the shout: "yes, fly, -you two! but don't hope to see your birth-places again...." - -On reaching the guest-court breathless, I asked Lossow if the horse had -been harnessed for us: he answered that he supposed so, and would see. I -then paced our sitting-room for, say, six minutes, expecting him to -summon us down, Langler being in his bedroom, crowding some knick-knacks -into the trunk. I went in to him, saying that the waggonette must be -waiting. "One moment," said he, and I waited till he locked the trunk. -But when we went to go out the door had been fastened on the outside. - -We stared at each other's paleness, then I flew to the window, which was -at the side of the house. The night was so deep that I could not see the -ground, but I knew that it was no light leap. However, it was our only -way out, so Langler slid down by the sheets, which I held for him, below -heaped them for me to leap upon without making a hubbub, and I dropped -upon my feet: the trap laid for us had failed. We ran on tiptoe, meaning -somehow to make our way down the mountain on foot; but when we got to -the back the light of the waggonette appeared just coming from the -stable, and when the boy spoke to us we perceived that he had not yet -been made privy to the plot against us. "We came to meet you, Jan," said -I as I leapt in, "for we are in a hurry." "But the trunk, sirs?" said -he. "We leave the trunk for to-night," said I: "just turn round now, -and drive straight down." - -He did so! and we were off down the main road in a flush of escape. I -pitied Langler for his lost papers, but there was no help. "Let us only -hope," said I, "that we sha'n't reach Badsögl too late to send the -telegrams to England to-night." - -"Why so particularly to-night?" he asked. - -"But is it not certain," I answered, "that the last phase of the plot -against the Church must now be about to show itself in the greatest -haste? Wasn't it because of the might of the Church that Baron Kolár so -feared our meddling in the matter of Dees? And now that he has dared -this massacre of a churchman, how shall he escape the Church's vengeance -if the Church is to remain mighty one month more? He is about to strike -sharply, be sure, for we have forced his hand, and our seconds are -precious." - -"But shall we do much good?" asked Langler. - -"Well, certainly," said I, with a laugh, "it seems late in the day to -ask that, Aubrey. Assuredly we shall do good. We, too, indeed, shall -have to show that the miracles are none, but, then, we shall also show -that they were no machinery of churchmen. In the case of the miracle up -here six years ago, which made the little model for Kolár's great -scheme, the death of the Church was due to the fact that the miracle -_was_ found out to be the doing of the priest; but if we show that on -the great scale churchmen have been guiltless of guile no shock of -tempest will be let loose, things will decline into their old mood as -before the miracles, and the Church will survive." - -"True," said he; "but is that worth all our pains? an obsolete Church -keeping up a look of life...." - -"But is it not late in the day, Aubrey," said I, "to trouble our heads -with any such doubts? We decided months ago, before we came, that the -Church was worth saving; hence we came. Let's not disparage our own -work. Personally, I assure you, I am not deeply concerned, for I don't -deem myself called upon to be the saviour of anything: but Emily -despatched me upon this work, and so I do it with conviction. Moreover, -the quicker done the quicker at Swandale." - -"Ah, Swandale," sighed Langler. "But I confess, Arthur, that I depart -from the mountain with some regret: that old burg up there is so cradled -in gales, such a spirit-world wears out its winds with well-a-days, and -the tarns, the vapours, the wild swans...." - -"My own feeling is rather rapture than regret," I answered; but such was -the elegiac soul of Langler, which still discovered something over which -to sigh and indulge its chaste melancholies. Meantime, our waggonette -was moving at a walk down the benighted mountain-world, our Jan cowering -so still over his nag that he might have been asleep; while we others -chatted constantly--I at least being elated at our escape, at our task -almost over, at home in sight, though I had no hat, the drizzles were -trying, the bosom of the mountains gave out a steam of music, as it were -thousands and ten thousands busy and breeding, and the organ's -sound-board breathing, and our talk was a forlorn droning in a state of -being which was made all of winds and bewitchment; sometimes in a flash -we might descry a crucifix hung on a crag, and our sighs would then -hanker back to that night-whelmed thing on the river-bank away behind -us. Keenly our hearts smote us at this memory of Max Dees. How much harm -had our meddling hurled upon that man! how he must have waited and -hungered for that "one good file" which never found its way to him; and -now he was all in the dark on the river-bank. When I expressed my -surprise that it was Tschudi himself who had sent us to see him there, -Langler said: "I wonder if Tschudi has been acting to-night on his own -initiative? The baron now, at any rate, does not appear to be about the -burg, or the troop should have seen him; still, Tschudi may be in -wireless communication with him. But Tschudi's own private motive in -sending us to the crucifix seems to have been an impulse of mere spite -or rage, and he may have had in his mind that we should never leave the -region after seeing." - -"I doubt though that at that time he meant to stop us," said I: "I -think it was only after he knew of our talk with the Mother Dees. Yet it -would be odd, too, that they shouldn't mind our getting away with the -knowledge of Dees' doom, but should be so eager to stop us with the -knowledge of Dees' life-story." - -"But of the two the latter is the more important," said Langler; "for, -as to Dees' doom, they perhaps calculated that by the time we could -report it the Church would be impotent to avenge it; but, as to Dees' -life-story, our knowledge of it is knowledge of the Church-plot, and is -of permanent value as proof that churchmen are innocent of fraud in the -present miracles; therefore it was urgent to stop us when we had this -knowledge, since even years hence our evidence may be of use in -restoring churchmen to favour, and in ruining the plot." - -"Ah," said I, "years hence little would be left of the Church, I think, -if we had once been locked into that north-west dungeon. However, here -we are, and now for the break-up of the fountains of the great deep. -Poor Dr Burton! I wonder where _he_ will be found in all that upheaval? -I am afraid for him: the spirit that could pitch from such a moral -height to 'well, pretty, do you love me?'----" - -"_Beastly mess!_" hissed Langler to himself: "oh, pray, Arthur, I -beg----" - -"As for me," I said quickly, "the man upon whom I now rather bet is the -archbishop's red rag, Ambrose Rivers"--and we went on chatting about -the latest news of Rivers which we had from Swandale. We were still, I -remember, discussing Rivers when a jodeling call arose somewhere in our -rear, at which our Jan, it seemed to me, sat up to prick his ears. In a -minute the call was anew heard, lalling nearer now; and now Jan pulled -up short. "Why do you stop?" I cried to him, "don't stop! get on!" "It -is my cousin Isai, sirs," he answered, "who is running to me with a -message, for it is his jodel." "Still, you are to hurry on instantly," I -cried; "every moment is precious!" But he would not budge, and even as I -urged him I heard the panting of a runner near upon us. Our Jan now -jumped down; at the horse's head there was a confab between the cousins, -of which all that I could catch was the pantings of Isai; and I sat in a -stew of the keenest anxiety. It came into my head to rush and seize the -reins and lash the horse; but before I could act the whispering was -over, Jan jumped up afresh, and we moved on--at least it never entered -my mind to doubt that it was Jan who jumped up, though I now suspect -that it was Isai. Anyway, we went on at the old walk, regained some calm -of mind, again began to be talkative, and for perhaps twenty minutes now -nothing happened, till all at once I was aware of the leap of our driver -from the wagon, and a second afterwards the nag broke into galloping. It -is my belief that a knife or something keen had been driven into its -flesh--nothing less could account for its fury, and the clown had chosen -for his deed a piece of the road which was little broader than the -vehicle, with precipice on the right, with cliff on the left above us. -There was no hope for us but in leaping, and "leap, Aubrey!" I cried as -I sprang into the air over the back, with my face to the pace, and fell -on my length. Lying there, I seemed to hear a fearful silence; no sound -of horse and cart; and, understanding that both had bounded down the -steep, I feared to stir, lest I might find that Langler had gone with -them. But presently, from some distance down, he called out upon me. I -ran asking if he was hurt. "A few bruises perhaps," he panted in answer, -"but I seem to have lost my hat." This solicitude about _his hat_ I -understood to be feigned, for I felt him trembling like a leaf. But such -was Langler: he was for ever preoccupied about the soul, and, not calm -by nature, wished always to appear to himself immovably calm. - -Well, the hat could not be found, and on foot we went on down the pass. -But it was not long before we were lost in a wilderness of stone and -wood, where no way was. We fell into a state of fear that night both of -us, and it imbued our souls for hours. I had never before in my life -felt quite like that; I hope never to have to undergo such ghouls again. -But there are things which can hardly be put on paper. Perhaps our -experiences of the evening, the nets set for our feet, the steepness of -our leap from the cart, that sight on the river-bank behind us--all -these may have helped to demoralise us. The word "jumpy" somewhat -describes our panic. After a time we ceased to try to hide our chills -from each other. What exactly was the matter I can't quite tell; we had -always endeavoured to be brave men, and no particular peril now menaced; -but that night our spirits caught affrights one from the other; we both -seem to have had the boding that we were about to taste of death; the -grave, being, the mountains, grew too hugely gruesome for us, the womb -of gloom brought forth awe--_some_how we were unhinged. It was Langler -perhaps who openly began it. We were resting together on a rock under -the fragments of a Carthusian monastery when I heard him murmur in a -sort of awed contemplation: "God be merciful...." "Why, what now?" said -I. "God be merciful," he murmured again, "I have seen the wraith of -Emily." This was so unlike him! My blood ran cold. "Where?" I whispered. -For a minute he made no answer, then with the same entranced awe he -murmured: "there--to the left of the arch, between the two trees: do you -see nothing?" The hairs of my head bristled as, peering that way, I -murmured: "yes, it is she." "Our breath is in His hand," sighed Langler, -with a held-up hand. - -For me to say now, after so long, that I did, or could, see any such -thing would be too much beyond reason; most likely I saw nothing: there -was little light in the night; I think that there was no lightning at -the time; but we were on that stretch of the spirit when spectres start -up, and are catching: at the moment I could have sworn that I saw. It -may have been the form of the boy Isai, who had perhaps followed us, it -may have been Miss Emily's wraith, or a phantom of our brains; in any -case, we underwent such troubles and shyings of the soul that night as -could not be told, lasting more or less upon us almost till we got to -Badsögl about daybreak, so worn out that we at once dropped upon our -beds, and slept. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -END OF LANGLER - - -I opened my eyes about mid-day quite quit of our night of griefs, with -the word "_safe_" on my lips, for down there at Badsögl in bright -daylight all looked rosy at last, and I was already inclined to doubt -the bogies of the dark. Eager to start for England, I woke Langler, -wired to Swandale, warned our Hanska to be ready. We breakfasted, and -now nothing remained but to send the telegrams and set out. - -We had determined to send two telegrams--one to Percival of Keble, the -other to my friend, Mr Martin Bentley, of _The Chronicle_. In that -morning's paper was no word yet of any exposure, the only big news being -that overnight in England Education had been again sent up to the Lords; -so under the corn-sheaf in the porch I, at Langler's request, wrote the -two telegrams, telling of the little alp-miracle, of the world-plot, of -the coming vials: and I handed it to Langler to read. - -To my astonishment, Langler's face showed fastidious, and he said: -"Percival will think me sudden and epic, Arthur." - -"Perhaps," I answered shortly, for he seemed not to mind that Mr Martin -Bentley would think _me_ sudden and epic. - -"Couldn't we arrange somehow," said he, "to spread abroad our knowledge -without having our names mixed up in it? I hate this glare----" - -"But the sudden proposition, Aubrey, at this eleventh hour," said I: -"how can this possibly be done?" - -"I have thought," said he, "of a meeting of journalists in London, to -whom we could tell everything _viva voce_, since that, I think, would be -more in order." - -"For Heaven's sake, Aubrey," I exclaimed, "let us get this thing off our -backs now, and be done with it!" - -"But I have thought," said he, "that if we retard the news even a day or -two that might be a great thing for the Church as against the Education -Bill." (He disliked the bill for some reason--called it "_smart_.") - -"But what have we to do with the fate of the Education Bill?" said I, -for what I wanted was to see his sister's face: "surely we can't gyve -and entangle ourselves with such side-motives now! See, here is the boy -waiting to take the telegrams; pray let us send them." - -"Is that your deliberate judgment?" he asked. - -"It is, yes," said I. - -"Then," said he, "I submit to it: send the telegrams." - -But he said it just too late, and the telegrams were never sent, for at -that moment a letter-carrier came into the porch with a telegram for us -which I saw shake in Langler's hand as he read it; it came from Paris, -bore no signature, and was in the words: "If you send any telegrams you -sacrifice Miss Langler." - -We ought now to have decided upon our action in one minute, but were two -hours in the dining-room, where we went to discuss it. "What we have to -do," I said from the first, "is to send instantly a telegram to Emily -ordering her to fly and hide herself, as she did before, till we come; -then send the two telegrams to Percival and Bentley, just as we -intended." - -"Ah, it would shock her, such a telegram," said Langler. - -"We needn't send it, really," said I; "I only propose it so as to be -quite on the safe side, for this message of Baron Kolár's is just a -threat, a last card to keep us from acting; if we defy it, and send the -two telegrams, he will have no motive whatever to hurt Emily--except a -wanton revenge, of which the man is incapable. I believe that Emily is -quite safe, really. Let us boldly send the two telegrams, whether we -send one to Emily or not." - -"Oh, I couldn't," he murmured, flinching, pacing the floor, sorely -pestered now. Of Baron Kolár as regards his sister he had a blue awe -and shiver, like a man who when a child has been frighted with bogies. -It is obvious that my view of the matter was the rational one, but he -flinched irrationally, he had a blue fear of what Kolár might just -possibly be minded to do to Miss Emily. On the other hand, his pride -rebelled against the baron, for when I said: "don't send the telegrams, -then, but let us start at once," his answer was: "but who is this man -that I should in all things obey him blindly? He may find me of grimmer -make than he thinks!" - -"But it must be one thing or the other, Aubrey," said I. "Send the -telegrams or not as you please, but, either way, do let us be gone at -once. My telegram to Emily this morning assured her that she should see -us on Friday morning; if we don't start now we can't reach London till -Friday night, and she will thus be thrown into a fresh stew of misery. -The one fatal thing for us is indecision." - -He stood at a window, looking out upon the garden, and after some time -said: "well, I won't send the telegrams: let us start, and in passing -through London we can divulge all to the meeting of journalists, -secretly called, then at once hurry on to Swandale." - -"Very good," said I, "the car is ready; let us start this moment." - -"But what a mess!" he hissed, turning upon me: "I warn you, Arthur, that -it is even mean, it is even craven. Am I, then, the bondman of this -person?" - -"Still, let us start, Aubrey! let us start!" cried I, with a pang of -panic in me. - -"We are about to start," said he. "But consider whether this meeting of -journalists in London will not mean delay: suppose the man gets wind of -it, and, even while we are about it, perpetrates some horror at -Swandale...." - -"He will have no motive!" I cried. - -"Ah, he may have, he _may_. Would it not be better to send the -telegrams, only warning Percival and Mr Bentley not to make them public -for some days? In that way we act as we originally intended, our -purposes will not have been influenced by this man's mandates, and at -the same time he will not know that we have defied him." - -"Well, then, let us do so, and quickly," said I. - -"But that, after all, is mere self-cheating," he sighed: "if the -telegrams are not to be made public at once, why send telegrams? Why not -wait and write letters, which, moreover, would be less sudden and -assaulting? No, Arthur, if we are to obey the mandates of the man let us -not do so in such a way as to persuade ourselves that we have not done -so." - -"But all this subtlety, Aubrey, when we should be stirring!" said I: -"come, shall we not decide one way or the other, and start now?" - -"But are we to start without knowing what we are about?" he cried. "What -a mess! Is it possible that you cannot help me a little to see my way?" - -"What more can I say?" I asked: "I have begged you to send the -telegrams, but, since you are timid about Emily, do not send them; there -remains the meeting of journalists in London; or thirdly, we can write -letters from Swandale. Only, let us start. I see clearly that all danger -to Emily is past; the really terrible danger now is to ourselves up to -the moment when we shall have communicated to someone else this -knowledge that we carry in our heads; and, indirectly, there is a danger -to Emily if our return is delayed, for it will monstrously shock her, I -warn you, Aubrey: let us start." - -"Yes, do, do let us start," he muttered: "I shall send the telegrams; in -which case, do you still advise me to send one to Emily bidding her fly -from Swandale?" - -I looked at the clock, saying, "no, not now, too late: for if Baron -Kolár really meant her any harm, by this time he has made his -arrangements to accomplish it; she wouldn't escape him. But he means her -no harm, and such a telegram would only throw her into needless alarms." - -"Well, but I couldn't venture to send the telegrams to Percival and Mr -Bentley without also sending one to her," he answered. - -"Ah, then, here is another deadlock," said I. - -"Oh, Arthur," he cried out, "how we do need some faculty between scent -and sight to live!" - -"But if you would let me decide for you--if you could, if you would!" I -wooed to him. - -"Do so, do so, I beg for nothing better," he answered with his -bitter-sweet smile. - -And again I decided for him, but again he raised new side-issues, and it -went on until near three, when we at last departed, after wiring to -Swandale that we should not arrive on Friday morning, as promised, but -on Friday evening between nine and eleven. As for the two telegrams, -they had not gone, for our world-message was to be shuffled off our -shoulders at the meeting of journalists. - -Away, then, we flew westward. A whine was now in the time of year even -in the lowlands, and the worm of winter at its work in the woods. I saw -bands of telegraph-wires like bars of written music, crowded with birds -migrating, and thought how a messenger-wren, too, may be, had once -halted to rest on this band or on that; I saw cliffs of forest reflected -red, yellow, and negro in rivers, like old tapestry, angular and faded; -and that evening I saw such a sunset as I think that I have never seen, -save on the three following evenings, perfectly astonishing, like -portents. At dinner-time we arrived at Munich, where a telegram from -Swandale awaited us, and as she could hardly have been certain at which -hotel we should stay, we understood that she must have sent many -telegrams on the chance of striking us somewhere. _Why_ the delay from -Friday morning to Friday night, she wished to know! Were we actually -now on the way? Would we telegraph her at every town? She had been -greatly upset, but was reconciled now to the delay, provided we were -actually now at last on the way--a long message. We wired that we were -straining homeward, and at Stuttgart that midnight met yet a message -from her that seemed to laugh through tears, not without something of -the rictus of hysteria, I am afraid, with its "joy!" and its "bless -God!" and its "poor Kitty-wren is ill; she will sink more and more as -you come nearer, and the moment you re-enter Swandale gate will drop -dead." We had to stop some time at Stuttgart, but sleep was far from me, -such a pity bled in me, such a fear was mine; then under the stars we -started out afresh behind our flying Hanska, who had gained from Langler -the biblical name of "the terror, the arrow, and--the pestilence." - -On the Thursday evening we were at Metz, where fresh messages passed -between us and Swandale; at Metz also we arranged for the meeting of -journalists, first wiring to Langler's friend, the Rev. Thomas Grimes, -who in his reply placed at our disposal a room in the Church-house, -Great Titchfield Street; we then sent messages to eight journalists whom -I knew, begging them to be at the Church-house at eight on the Friday -night, and to bring with them any other journalists whom they chose, to -hear a matter of high moment: we hoped that we might thus have a -meeting of perhaps a hundred men, who would instantly flood the world -with the news. - -We then afresh set off, straining to catch the next day's 5.35 P.M. -boat. I am fond of the memory of that ride, for with it ended most of my -merriment in this life; the air was crisp and bright, the flight filled -our breasts, and raised our spirits. That evening on leaving Metz we -looked with something like awe and joy at the sunset, which was most -flamboyant, and likened by Langler to God's war-lords mingled in battle. -There burned in it a form that had an urn in her hand, which he pointed -me out, and with much feeling said to me: "to me, too, this earth is -dear, Arthur. It is easy to conceive a world with ruby mountains and -coloured moons, where all the lads are forever blowing the oboe and -ring-doves roll their soft rondeaus; but give me this hand-made old home -of ours, with her quite Greek trimness of style; for it is something -after all not to have been turned out by a God in a troubadour mood, and -out of her strength comes forth sweetness, too, anon,--consolations and -vouchsafements, winning twangs, and Memnon-vowels. Farther in the future -this music of our Father will discourse perhaps, and mourn, Arthur, to a -humanity that will have outlived this outer ear, and hoarded up an -inward hearing and harmony." - -Moved by some throe of love, I laid my hand on his arm then, as the -sunset faded, murmuring to him "Aubrey, always full of grace and -truth"--I cannot tell why; it was my last caress; I did it to his -burying; and God knew, but not I. The same night we rushed through -Charleville, and by 5.10 the next evening were in Calais. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -END OF LANGLER--_continued_ - - -We crossed over to Dover, where a man came on board the boat, calling -abroad: "Langler! Langler!" with a wire for us from Swandale: she wished -to know if we had actually reached England, and also why it was that, -arriving at Dover at 6.15, we should not arrive at Swandale till -ten!--for we had mentioned to her nothing of the meeting of journalists -in Great Titchfield Street. She begged us to telegraph the instant we -touched British soil, and again when we should reach Victoria. - -Langler telegraphed that we were safe at Dover, that all was, and would -be, well, praying her to be patient, promising to be with her at -ten--but still not mentioning the meeting of journalists, though I -entreated him to. - -We then set off by rail-train for London, and still there was no mention -of any exposure of the miracles, as I saw on looking through the evening -paper in the train. - -"I suspect," said Langler to me, "that the delay in the exposure may be -accounted for by this Education Bill turmoil, for as the Lords have now -again mangled the bill, and the clash between Church and world has now -waxed into acuteness, the plotters may be waiting a little till this -reach its highest fever, when they will strike. Remember how it was with -Diseased Persons. But this time we should be able to counteract at least -half the force of their stroke." - -"In any case, I think that the Education Bill will triumph," said I. - -"Well," said he, "let that be as it will: why do we so heave and rave in -all the batrachomuomachia, leaving our poor souls behind, as though life -were a flight on motor-cars, with the nitrogen all drained out of the -air? The earth does not march by petroleum with puffs, but by the charm -of an old spell-word; and that sunset, Arthur--look at it: ah, for one -bath of that large, warm calm." - -"Extraordinary thing," said I, "there must be some atmospheric -disturbance somewhere; it seems even more glorious than yesterday's." - -"It may be the assembled good-bye of all the prophets and apostles to -their old Church," said he: "that shape afaint above yonder in white is -Elijah translated far with robes aflaunt, and that charmed to rose is St -Paul caught up in trance to the third heaven." - -He was talkative, full of sparkle and fancy, even playful, that evening; -but all our talk in the train was interrupted by a debate between two -men about the eternity of hell-fire, which they maintained to the moment -of our alighting at Victoria. It was then night, with only twenty -minutes left us in which to get to Great Titchfield Street by eight -o'clock, but we first made our way to the telegraph-office, where yet a -message from Swandale awaited us, this time our friend writing in the -words: "Yours from Dover to hand; you are in England, so all's well, I -await now with quietness. Poor Kitty-wren drooped visibly at moment when -you must have touched Dover. I pity her a little. She can't last. Am -quite at rest now, waiting upon God's good will. Carriage will await you -at Alresford at 9.52 without fail. Wire me from Victoria." We sent her a -message, I left my chest at the station, and we hastened away. - -It was drizzling slightly, the night dreary, the yard crowded with -people and things darting to and fro, and I was struck with a feeling of -how intensely even within the past few years, the pace of everything had -quickened. But only two cars came to bid for our fare. I fancy now that -this seemed queer to me at the moment, but being rather late for the -meeting of journalists, elated at our nearness to Swandale, I paid no -heed to it, and we leapt into one of the cars, I calling to the man: -"the Church-house, Great Titchfield Street." - -We sped off, but had not proceeded far when we fell in with a procession -with banners, at which our car had to pull up. All down Victoria Street -it teemed, blocking the world's business, some regions of it chanting -ave, maris stella. I was very teased, for by this means we must have -lost five minutes, having just collided with the Friday in the octave of -the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin. Our driver, a lank man with a stoop, -deliberately turned, in crossing himself, as if for us to see--so it -looked to me, then off afresh we started behind the last of the -procession. London was in high animation, in spite of the wet, and I was -admiring the flaming advertisements, the tempest of life, when Langler -said: "London is still not a great city, no, it lacks the tone, it is a -group of parishes. Look at that newspaper-placard occupied with 'Buggins -Captured.' Who is Buggins? Some mean misdoer, I suppose. And that other: -'Buggins' Love-letters to Peggy Jinks.' You can't conceive that in -Paris: it is not world-news; my Athenians of Paris would slightly shrug -at such parish pragmatism; no, London is not a great city...." and as he -spoke, I saw "Great Titchfield Street" at a street corner, and into it -we dashed. - -But we had not gone far down it when our man careered into a by-street -to the right; whereat I started up to him, calling out: "but where are -you going? you have left Great Titchfield Street." "Yes, sir," was his -answer, "they have just taken up the street down yonder, so we have to -go round." I, for my part, had no idea whereabouts in Great Titchfield -Street the Church-house was, nor any grounds to fancy that the man's -words might be false, and after he had raced with us through a maze of -Soho back-streets, through so many that I lost track of where we were, -when he halted at the door of a house, unhandsome and dark though it -was, I did not doubt that I was in Titchfield Street, and at the -Church-house. - -When we went to the door a man inside said "this way, gentlemen," to us, -whereat we stepped into a passage, and not a thought of wrong crossed my -mind until I found myself on the ground, while a crowd of men searched -my pockets--to see if I had any pistol, I imagine. Langler was in a like -way. I struggled, of course, but quickly gave in; and presently we were -permitted to get up, and were taken up through darkness to a room on the -second floor. - -This room was quite small, not more than fifteen feet long and fifteen -broad, in a corner of the house, without any window, and like a room -within a room, for two of its sides were made of boarding, which may -have been run up for the special purpose of imprisoning us--I cannot -tell. The floor was bare, the furniture was one chair and a bedstead -placed under one of the two boardings--a cheap little bedstead without a -bed, but with a pillow without a pillow-slip. On one of the walls burned -an antique electric jet very palely. - -All was silent. For it might be ten minutes Langler and I fronted each -other's gaze, the notion or dream, meantime, in my own heart being that -our door did not seem over strong, that a dart downward might well -deliver us. All, I say, was silent. I drove my shoulder at the door, and -my heart hailed Heaven with thanks when I found it frail, so heaving now -my all into the strain, I heard the steel give out sounds, felt the -beams bound. But the staple would not quite start, though again I dashed -myself into it, and again and again and again, with passion. Then I -panted out upon Langler, "help, Aubrey, help...." - -"Oh, Arthur," was his answer, "are we to strive and cry?" - -"Never mind ... help ... help...." I panted. - -"I implore you to be calm," said Langler. - -Sure that his help would force the door, I now flew from it in a passion -to my knees before him, with my arms spread out beseechingly to him, -crying out to him, "for Christ's sake, help me, help me...." - -"Well, since you so insist," said he, "but it seems useless, too, and is -it not better...." - -"Never mind, help," I panted. - -I think that he would now have helped, but as he was now about to say -something else the key turned outside, and Baron Kolár came in, equal to -three men. As he locked the door again, I sprang up from my knees, and -we both faced him. He had on the old shabby satin jacket, his hat hung -over his eyes, looking earnest and abstracted, like a man carrying on -his back matters of large mass and amplitude, in his hand a bit of -paper. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -END OF LANGLER--_continued_ - - -"Well, now, you see," said the man. - -We made no answer, and Baron Kolár began to pace the room. - -"You have been most insolent and foolish, you two men," said he: "I have -lavished warnings upon you in vain, and I shall have you shot within -five minutes like two dogs, without compunction, I assure you, unless -you do now as I direct you." - -"But don't be angry," said I, "since we have meant well, and are quite -likely to do as you direct us." - -"You have been most insolent and foolish," he repeated with invective; -"you have hampered me, badgered me, invaded my estate, forced my hand, -placed me in the greatest personal danger, threatened the success of my -life-work. You are a nuisance and a danger, and should be removed.... -Tell me now how you came to know that there was a prisoner in -Schweinstein Castle." - -"The prisoner sent out a messenger-bird," said I, "which came to Mr -Langler's estate." - -"Oh, that was it, yes, that was it.... Well, that was no fault of -yours. You have no doubt acted like honourable men. But I hate you for -having molested me. You made a great mistake to listen to the woman who -gave you the story of the Styrian priest's life--for I take it that you -did hear it of her?" - -"Some of it," said I. - -"Or rather--all of it," suggested Langler. - -"Well, you made a mistake," said Baron Kolár. "However, I have a -confirmed confidence in your honour: sign me, therefore, this paper, -promising not to divulge to a soul during ten years, or till my death, -anything that you have learned on the alp, and you shall be free men. -To-night several of the bodies that were crucified are to be -disinterred, including that of your groom, Charles Robinson; to-morrow -morning the world will learn that the miracles were the work of priests; -and, as I do not wish you to be out in the crisis of the excitement, I -shall have you here till to-morrow afternoon; after that you may go, -yes, you may go. I understand that I risk something in trusting you; it -is a disloyalty to my comrades; but I am a reader of men--though I have -sometimes been wrong, too, I have not always been right: you, however, -are not men who would wound the hand that has given you life. Sign me -that paper, as a formality between us." - -"Willingly," said I, for what I wished to look on was the face of Miss -Langler, and gave little heed to aught else, so, without even reading -the thing, I knelt flurriedly by the chair, and had it signed and -finished with. - -It was now for Langler to sign. - -"Now, Mr Langler," said Baron Kolár, when Langler made no movement to -sign. - -"No, Baron Kolár," answered Langler, "no," with his eyes cast down. - -"What! You do not sign?" - -"No, Baron Kolár, no," he repeated. - -"Then woe to you, sir," said the Baron, measuring him from head to foot. - -"Well, then, woe to me," said Langler. - -Ah, he was pallid now, with a mulishness of mien which I knew with -panic; whereat I at his secret ear breathed in my anguish: "but Emily, -Aubrey, fair's fair, loyalty to Emily first, this is too much, you know, -Aubrey, Emily first----" - -"No, second," he said, with a stiff neck. - -"As if duty and God had anything to do with it!" I groaned -panic-stricken: "martyrs are martyrs, and die for what they cherish, but -to die for a Church which you always call obsolete, for which you care -nothing really, except by some trick of culture, it would be too -monstrously pitiful, for God's sake, only this once----" - -"But what is the matter with Mr Langler?" said Baron Kolár: "my time is -short." - -"But by what right do you even dream of daring to shed anyone's blood?" -asked Langler, turning upon the baron. - -"Know that I _have_ this right, Mr Langler," answered the baron sternly: -"men like me, whose heads are clear, and whose motives are righteous, -have such divine rights." - -"One readily admits the righteousness of your motives," said Langler, -"but the clearness of your head is less certain, if I may say so. We all -intend to do good, Baron Kolár, but to do it is an intricate trick, only -given to critics. You seem in your scheming to have quite forgotten the -moral reaction which must follow upon the sudden death of faith, and -upon the disclosure that the men who try to remind the world of God are -a gang of misdoers. Is it nothing to you that to-morrow every wanton -impulse of men's hearts will lift its head, the restraints of ages once -swept away? Your motives are good: why should you not give up this -scheme even now, and I, on my side, should be able to vow myself to -silence?" - -At this Baron Kolár, looking down upon him, answered: "you speak, sir, -very like a child; you are a man with a mind made up chiefly of theories -acquired in your study, or acquired from other prigs and theorists who -are foreigners to the agoras of men. Is not this scheme of mine modelled -on the incident of the alp? But in that case no 'wanton impulses' lifted -their head----" - -"Ah, I think so," said Langler. - -"But you annoy me, Mr Langler," said the baron. "Understand that on the -final death of 'faith' to-morrow the people will remain precisely where -they stood before the miracles, when 'faith' was already dead, and this -because they are moral by habit and heredity. Wasn't this just the work -in evolution which God designed 'faith' to do--to make men moral by -heredity? for they would hardly, I think, have become so without the -goad of 'hell,' and so on. Descartes, a theorist like you, was assured -that God cannot be a deceiver; but God does nothing but deceive for His -creatures' good, and, housed in His motley, the zebra-herd browses -hidden and grey in the grey of the morning. At first two hells were -needed; but by the date of the Reformation purgatory could be dispensed -with in the highest nations; by the date of the abolition of hanging for -sheep-stealing men could do without any hell at all. The Church was thus -an excellent crutch, which humanity is now able to hurl away and burn; -for men, thanks to her, are now as hardened in good conduct as they were -once naturally heinous, and crime would now be quite irksome to the host -of them, as swimming is to a frog that was lately a swimming tadpole. -But do not trouble your head about any such questions at all: just sign -me that paper now." - -"I regret that I do not quite see with you, Baron Kolár," answered -Langler stiffly, with downcast eyes, while I, wooing at his ear, -whispered, "ah, but Emily, Aubrey, you forget!" - -"But will he not sign?" asked the baron. - -"No, sir," said Langler. - -Baron Kolár groaned. - -"It seems a pity, Mr Langler," he said, "that you are quite so gallant a -man. Nature, after all, is a cannibal tigress that devours her fairest -offspring...." saying which, he now reached aside, and pressed an -electric button. - -It was now that I cast myself down at the man's feet, grasping him so -that he could not escape me, gasping to him: "but you cannot hurt him, -cannot touch him, she will go crazy, is not strong, it is your fault, -you should not have done to her what you twice did; she is expecting him -to-night, never hoped in her heart to see him again, but we made her -hope against hope, and now that he is almost at home--see, these are her -telegrams, read them, mad with haste, and it is useless to plead with -him, he is infected with some moral crotchet, but _you_ will find a way -for us, I cast myself upon your mighty heart like a child, not for -myself, nor for him, but for her, whom you have so horribly wronged ..." -and, as I so pleaded, the man's hand lifted, and was about to come upon -me: was it a half-blow? a half-caress? I am not even now sure; but when, -just then, someone rapped at the door in answer to his summons, he -called out in Italian, "never mind, I will ring again when I want you"; -and to me he said: "give me the telegrams." - -His demand for them surprised me. I handed them to him in a mass as I -had snapped them out of my pocket, whereupon he took out his spectacles, -wiped them, adjusted them upon his nose, and holding the telegrams away -from his eyes close to the grimy light, perused them patiently, while I -waited with legs that could hardly any more uphold my weight. One by one -he let the leaves of paper fall down, having read them, and read the -next; but the last two he tossed away without reading, and turned off to -pace the floor. - -I waited shivering while four or five times he paced, poring upon him, -and once I saw his brow lift largely, his eyes wander round the roof, -and heard him breathe to himself the words: "death death." Of what he -was thinking I was not then aware, and I waited, shaking, my eyes nailed -to his face. When he next spoke it was with sudden vexation, saying: -"ridiculous beings! I foresaw that you would come to grief, I lavished -warnings upon you, I ought to see you shot like two dogs. How do you -dare to say now that Miss Langler's frailty is any fault of mine, when -it is wholly your own? I was devoting myself to the welfare of men, -seeing clearly, knowing clearly, what I did, for as the heavens are high -above the earth, just so, I suppose, are my thoughts larger than your -thoughts, and you dared to meddle with me. I ought to see you shot now -like two dogs, I assure you. Why should I take my useful life down into -the darkness of death in order to save pedants like you, or to spare a -woman's feelings?" - -"Your life?" I breathed; "the darkness of death? There is no such -question!" - -"But you speak very like a child," said he: "is it not clear to you that -either Mr Langler or I must throw up the cards now, since he will not -give his word to be silent? The crucifixion of the priest which you -witnessed by the riverside in the mountain would be called a murder by -the world, so undoubtedly will the miracle-crucifixions. It is true that -I am rather above being punished by the law for them, but my name would -be quite blighted, and my life nothing worth to me. I have neither wife -nor child.... I must only sacrifice it, since you insist that I have -already enough wounded Miss Langler--unless Mr Langler will sign me that -paper this instant." - -"Oh, sign," I whispered, edging nearer to Langler, but he stood white, -inflexible. "There is no occasion for anyone to die," he said, with -lowered lids: "let Baron Kolár be silent as to the miracles being none, -and I, too, will be silent; but if they be bruited abroad as the work of -churchmen, then, I shall not fail, if I have life and liberty, to -declare that, on the contrary, they are the work of Baron Kolár." - -"But how am I to be silent?" asked the baron: "does Mr Langler imagine -that I am alone in this scheme? This night three thousand gentlemen, -earnest fellows, large fellows, are in the act of carrying their task to -its end, nor should I dream of spoiling their work by sparing your life -if I thought that one man's voice could seriously spoil it; but your -voice will effect little, Mr Templeton will not support it, it will be -lost in the vast uproar, and will only be of avail to cast a blight upon -my own private name: to save my life, then, which I have a thought of -laying down for your wounded sister's sake, vouchsafe to sign me that -paper this instant." - -"Such a thought is most admirable, Baron Kolár, and would be quite -surprising, if it were not you who had it," said Langler; "but, after -all, the claims upon us of gratitude and affection are not the greatest. -I pray you, then, not again to ask me to sign the paper." - -To this Baron Kolár said nothing in reply, but picked up the paper -signed by me, put it into his pocket, and paced about, frowning; till on -a sudden his brow cleared, he said: "oh, well," and he sat himself down -on the bedstead laths. There he took out of his pocket a bag of grapes, -and, stooping forward, began to feed upon them, with quite a working of -the mouth and a sputtering of seeds. While thus busy, and given up to -this guttling, he kept looking up with wandering eyes, and he mumbled -mainly to himself, saying: "they are grapes of Egripos; very sweet they -are, too, very nice, not bad, and whenever I die, if I be opened, some -of them will be found in me. These few here may be my last feast, hence -I do not offer you any. But I do not fancy so, oh no, you will see. It -is astonishing what influences personality has upon events: from my -boyhood, if by chance I bet on a race-horse, it always won, strange -thing, it always won. Once, when a youth, I fought a duel with the -famous swordsman, Paulus, and, though no hand at the rapier myself, I -somehow came out grandly, I got in such a slash, yes, such a slash, -right in his cheek--very nice. I have always come nicely through -everything. Archbishop Burton, now: two hours ago he called me a -scoundrel, and lifted a chair to strike me; but the moment he lifted it -he dropped in a fit, and has since died. I seem to be immune from such -maniacs, I assure you. On the sixth of June five years ago a fellow -named Vesgolcza threw a bomb at me in Vienna; but it killed my political -enemy, Count Attem, and I procured the fellow's pardon. No, I was not -born for the martyr's crown, I own the badge and trick of escape. It is -a question of organisation and secret league with the soul of the world. -Look at me, I am sound throughout, a little trouble with the stomach -after food sometimes, a little flatulence, nothing much, a little -trouble. But Mr Langler, now: you are one of those men who are tricked -out with every jewel, except just the pearl of great price, -effectualness, favouritism with high God; such men are the scapegoats of -progress; history is based on their pains and groans; to the bane in -their fate there grows no bezoar. If you perish to-night, do not imagine -that I shall grieve for you; you are a man whom I might have loved, but -I lavished warnings upon you in vain, and I am such that even in death -my gall cannot quite forgive a personal insolence; but I shall realise -that your fate is over-sad, and I shall grieve for your graceful sister, -who has not offended me, but to whom I was forced to be ungallant. -Therefore I am about to give you one last great chance of life, though -you will not rise to the luck of it, you will be failing, I think.... -But let me not brag too soon. As you see, it must be either you or I to -whom this bedstead within one hour will turn out to be the death-bed. -Death is dark and monstrous, yes, death is dark. The artful old brain -all at once ceases to discern, the old heart no longer brawls, all -becomes nothing. But some humour of the soul has brought me to risk it, -and, even if I should not manage to get through, what, after all, is the -death of a man? Nothing more to God than the jaundice and death of a -leaf. I notice that Fitzroy Square out there is covered just now with -dead leaves: no one heeds them, no, no one heeds them.... Well, now, we -shall see." - -He sprang up, sputtering his last seeds, wiping his hands, saying: "I -shall be back in three minutes," and went out. Some seconds later I was -standing with my forehead on my arm against the wall when I heard behind -me some heavy pantings, and, glancing round, beheld Langler staggering, -with his hand held over his heart. I was only just in time to catch him. -"One moment," he sighed, "my heart...." He looked ghastly. But when I -had got him to the chair and fanned him with my handkerchief he -presently opened his eyes. "My heart, God knows," he began to say, when -the key was again heard in the lock, whereat he got up hastily, -buttoning his dress again, as Baron Kolár came in. - -The baron first placed the key of the door and a piece of paper on the -chair, saying: "here is the key and a permit for you to go out of the -house, in case of my death, gentlemen"; then, pouring two pills from a -big blue pill-box into his palm, he held them out to Langler, saying: -"now, sir, if you take one of these I will take the other." - -"But why so?" I heard Langler ask; and I heard Baron Kolár answer: "one -is a poison, the other is harmless; choose one, sir, and I will have the -other." - -"But if I chance to choose the harmless one," Langler next said, "I -become the cause of the death of a most magnanimous man, Baron Kolár." - -"Of a most rash and foolhardy man, sir," was Baron Kolár's answer; "but -choose quickly, I charge you, sir." - -"But, baron----" I heard Langler say. - -"Do not delay! or I dash the cursed pills to the ground!" I now heard -Baron Kolár cry out: "your chance to serve your sister and madman -Church vanishes in two ticks of my watch!" - -"Well, then, since you put it in that way, baron ... well, then, -baron...." I heard Langler say, but what next went on I did not witness, -for my face all this while was pressed against the wall. Indeed, I was -sick, with a most mortal taste in my mouth, and there at the wall I -waited in what seemed to me a month of stillness, until there reached me -a sound of moaning which I understood to come from Baron Kolár. I dared -then, for the first time, to turn and look at them. Langler was standing -with his back against the wall, white, but smiling; Baron Kolár was -sitting on the bedstead, holding his head with both his hands, his eye -wandering wildly. When he caught my eye he said to me: "it is I who have -swallowed the poison-pill, yes, it is I." And when I now moved to stand -at his side he turned up at me a most haggard jowl, an all-gone gaze, -his eyes hanging languishingly upon mine. On a sudden he started, saying -with new alarm: "It is I who have taken the poison!" Then afresh he -rocked himself from side to side, moving his palm to and fro along the -length of his thigh, full of sighs and retchings and moans. I was -crouched on my knees before his anguish, I sobbed aloud to him: "great, -fatherly heart!" "Stay!" he said, with a new brusqueness, "I feel the -stiffness coming on in the neck, I had better get up: it is brucine," -and he now raised himself by my help, and stepped about, upheld on my -shoulder, during which, "yes," he said to me in confidence, "I have gone -a step too far, I have tempted God, and He has abandoned me"; and again -he moaned, "it is brucine," pressing his reins ruefully, with groans. -"But can I do nothing?" I cried to him, "let me do something for you!" -To this he made no answer, but said to me: "I never thought to fail; I -have always managed to come out prettily through everything, but now I -perish miserably for a mere whim of my bile, a moment's noble wind, it -is all your own doing, Gregor, you reap what you have sown. Recount to -Miss Langler how a man like me died for her, tell the Misses Chambers -and all your friends how I perished, let all their hearts pity me and -bleed...." It was while he was saying this that I first noticed Langler, -who now stepped out from the wall toward us, trying to smile, saying to -Kolár, "no, baron, do not dismay yourself with such fancies, you have -already over-much worked out ..." but his speech was broken short by a -jerk of the neck, his mouth was drawn, he had an aspect of terror: death -was in the face of my friend. Baron Kolár, staring at him, seemed to -start from a dream, and like a man dropped aghast but glad from the -gallows-rope the man's lips unwreathed in a kind of rictus, as he said -with an opening of the arms: "well, I told you how it would be," -whereupon at once he now turned in flight from the sight of Langler's -face, but turned again to whisper to me, "you can go into another room -or be here, just as you wish," and after waiting an instant for my -answer, when I only gaped at him, he fled away. - -I sat by the bedstead, upon which Langler had fallen, and must have -remained there on the floor, I imagine, till five or six P.M. the next -evening. Baron Kolár's prophecy that the bedstead would become a -death-bed within one hour did not come true, for it must have been two, -perhaps three, hours before Langler was freed from his anguish, though I -am not sure, for after half-an-hour or so the light for some cause died -out, and the darkness may have stifled out my consciousness of time. I -think, however, that he lived three hours. The poison given him may have -been over-little, or over-much, or poor in poignancy, so that at some -times it was difficult to believe that he could be really dying; there -were such intervals as that in which he repeated most of the Homeric -hymn to Apollo, then there were spasms on spasms, and presently again -his mind gave signs of wandering. All was in rayless darkness--it was -well so. Thrice he cried to me: "Oh, that we knew where once more we -might find Him, Arthur!" "We are like babes that are being weaned," he -said, "but nothing is offered us in place of the Breast that has been -withdrawn, we bawl in the dark...." After this he lay without saying -anything for some time, until he said again: "yes, now in the hour of my -voyage it is Jesus who to me is the most eminent, the best-beloved. -Blessed name, blessed name. How abounding in beguilement are all his -words, like lovers' sidelong glances, and honey of Hybla to the tongue! -'Consider the lilies of the field, even Solomon in all his glory was not -arrayed like one of these'--surely, Arthur, the most literary words ever -used--except in a quite literal sense--if you accept my definition of -literature as 'chastity a-burn.' I know of nothing quite to match them -for that demure rich indirectness which is the essence of literature, -except perhaps '[Greek: asteras eisathreis],' and the 'path which no -fowl knoweth.' How staid the statement, how rosy the aroma; how little -is said, how much is felt and meant and suggested: for the puny men -dissect and depict, the huge men sum up and suggest. And that -big-mouthed 'swear not by Heaven'--you can't match me that God for -downright bulk, the earth His footstool, His buttocks throned broad over -the stars, His head up in the room beyond, huge Egyptian shadow----Oh, -I _must_...." Upon this my friend was held up by one of the fits, in -which he stretched like an arch on his head and feet; but there was no -bed, his legs slipped between the laths, causing them to vibrate and -jangle; I could not see, it was very well so. But in the interims he was -easy enough, without much suffering, I think, and now he was unconscious -of me, and maundered with a wandering mind, showing still his ruling -passion, criticising still, arguing still of literature, till his -passing. "Surely the light is good," says he, "and a pleasant thing it -is for the eyes to behold the sun," being all gone by that time, I -believe, and all gone, too, when he breathed to himself: "oh, a rough -God! In what velocities does He mix and revel! The encounter of dark -suns--how He slackens bridle and urges them like chargers, faster, -faster, with laughter in His beard, and afterwards muses upon the -silence of their tragedy when a new star psalms in the sky at night, and -the star-masters watch it with awe." This was among his final -utterances, and afterwards I had for some time a sense of being alone in -the dark there without him; but then I heard my friend say in a thin and -dying whine: "why art thou cast down, oh, my soul, and why art thou -disquieted within me?" and at the last he panted out at me, "tell her, -Arthur, tell her, in His will is our peace." Long I sat then, incaved in -night, with nothing but the darkness and his death in my mind, but in -the end God gave me tears, and a deep sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -END OF MISS LANGLER - - -When I opened my eyes I found myself lying alone half under the -bedstead. The body of my friend, no longer there, must have been very -quietly taken away. It was found in the river, high up about Wargrave. - -I gathered up my hat and some telegrams scattered over the floor, and -passed out, for the door of the room I found to be now open, so also was -the door below. I think that I met no one on the stairs. - -I next found myself in a train, and noticed now that it was evening at -the sight of one of those sunsets that for three evenings had surprised -everyone. Some men in the train were wildly talking, and though I heard -little more of it than "Church" and "miracles," and "downfall," I can -vividly remember their vowels of wonder and agitated jabbering. - -On arriving at Alresford I got into a car to go to Swandale, but -half-way to Swandale got out again, for I was now in no haste to be -there, so it came into my head to walk, and at one moment I walked, at -another I was standing still, at another I rabidly ran. In Swandale, -when I was crossing the bridge toward the cottage, I beheld an old man -named Davenport at the cottage-door whispering to two maid-servants, one -of whom darted away, and when I had come to the cottage, "quite well, I -hope, sir?" this old man mumbled to me, "fine evening, sir." "None o' -that," I said to him, "where is Miss Langler?" "This way, sir," he -answered, and ushered me into the morning-room. But I was no sooner in -than the doorway was blocked with retainers, men and women, and it -appeared to me that these people were there to impede and tease me. No -doubt my dress and appearance were in some disarray, since they seemed -to gape in alarm at me, so now, growing angry, I said to old Davenport: -"what is the meaning of this? is Miss Langler alive?" "Surely, sir," was -his answer. "Then what is the meaning of this?" said I, "where is she?" -"Miss Langler is no longer in the house, sir," he answered. "That now is -a wilful falsehood, Davenport, and you know it full well," said I. "You -say so, sir," he answered, "though I was never charged quite in that way -till now, sir." "Well, you are charged now, Davenport," said I, "and I -require to be taken instantly to Miss Langler." "The Almighty God look -down upon this house!" he now bawled out, "you cannot, Mr Arthur, you -cannot!" "But we shall see, then, whether I am a captive or not, -Davenport!" I cried, whereat the old man shouted out: "John! stop him! -he is out of his wits!" They failed, however, to hold me, for I tore -clear out of the thick of them, and pelted down the length of two long, -dark corridors, nor did any of them dare to come after me. - -Through all that region of the house I now flew in a heat of search for -Miss Langler: I glanced into her chamber, and she was not there; I -looked into room after room, and did not see her; I peered into nooks, -for nothing was lit anywhere, and everything brooded in a deep dusk. But -on getting nearer to Langler's study I seemed to detect some sound.... I -went to it. Both the doors were locked on the outside, and the sound, -louder now, was going on within; so, crouching there at one of the two -doors in the hush of the dark, I hearkened a long, long while to it. -Something within seemed to me to be running about the study at a trot, -round and round, with trot, trot, trot, in a steady way; but whether it -was a living human soul I did not know, for it was strange that the -lungs of a man should last so long, and not fail, and I wondered whether -it was she--or he; when it drew nigh to the door I heard pantings -awhile, till it went on its way, and presently panted nigh once more, -and was away, round and round, in a steady way; twice or thrice, too, I -seemed to be aware of a flutter somewhere, the thin utterance of a bird; -and ever I spurred myself to venture in, to look and see for myself, but -each time that I brisked up to try it my hairs bristled, and I shied at -it. - -There did, however, come a moment when I very gingerly turned the key -and found myself in. It was Miss Langler whom I saw; but she, for her -part, did not see, or at least heed, me at all, nor make any attempt to -escape, but continued to trot round, panting towards some bourn in a -heavy haste, made heavier by the large hat that she wore, and by the -velvet of a violet hue that voluminously clothed her, some of which she -carried over her arm that she might the handier hurry. That print of -Gainsborough's "Duchess" in her large gown over the pyx, if it had -stepped down from its frame to run and run, could hardly have more -resembled her. The mastiff Bruno was following at her heels, and on her -shoulder rode the little wren in unstable balance, this latter all -mauled now and bemuddled in its own blood, while many of its feathers -lay moulted about the floor-tiles: for when she had seen that her -brother did not come to her, she seems to have given way to a craving to -crush out the creature's life, but it had contrived to escape her hand, -she had run after to catch it, and had kept on running. But why, I -wondered, did she so press, with her eye musing inwardly upon herself, -the enamel eye of mosaics, fixed and dull? If I dared to stand in her -way to bar her, for I was far from dreaming of daring to touch her, she -meekly swerved as from some rock or block, and continued to run her -course. Rarely did she halt for sheer breathlessness, and lean her -shoulder a little, and pant, and start afresh, followed by the machine -that whined at her heels with a long lolling tongue and eyes of -abashment. I, seated in the casement, hearkened and hearkened to her -every step, and to the rushing of the cascade, and my eye-corners were -ever aware of her as she came and went in that twilight stillness, of -the flutterings, too, of the bird, and of the fading out of the sunset, -for all that heaven of hues in the west I saw die down to bloodshed and -dabbling, and wished that I, too, was dead. - -It was not till two in the morning that I saw her removed, she -protesting with a meek dignity, begging to be permitted to catch.... But -of this I could hardly write more; it was with her as the hard heart of -the world would have it; and God is on His throne, thinking on His -glory.... - - - - -APPENDIX - - -Having finished the tale of my tragedy, what I may still further have to -utter will contain naught that is new, no exclusive knowledge of my own, -but may still be of interest as a sketch of my introduction to the -so-called Church-of-the-overman. - -The nine months following the death of Langler are somehow almost wholly -blotted out of my life, I remember next to nothing of them, living -somehow _in vacuo_, with curiously little of pain or pleasure or -volition, and almost my first new memories are of the visits of my -friend, Mr Martin Magee, who put himself to infinite pains with me, read -to me, insisted upon interesting me. Again and again he would recount to -me the thousand-fold drama of "the downfall" in all its ramifications -and phases. "Dead?" he would say of the Church, with his Irish energy -and a thump of the fist, "dead with a thud that has been felt by the -priesthood in China: there has been a little recrudescence of -old-fashioned Nonconformity in England, Scotland, and America, but that -isn't going to last ten years, you'll see." - -"So the people imagine that the miracles were the work of churchmen?" I -asked. - -"Pooh, not now," he answered; "they did at first, and it was the rage -arising out of this fancy that wiped out the Church as a political -power; but, of course, the real death of the Church is not due to rage, -but to unconcern and oblivion." - -"Was it for this, then, that Aubrey Langler died?" I thought, "in order -that the Church as a political power might be wiped out?" "But was -there no moral reaction, Magee?" I asked: "Langler said that there would -be, and another friend of mine that there would not." - -"Which friend was that?" asked Magee. - -"I may tell you and the world some day," I answered, "if he dies before -me, but not at present." - -"Well, whoever he is, he knows his modern Europe," said Magee. "I don't -remember hearing of any moral reaction." - -"But, then," said I, "is the Western world left now without any -religion?" - -"Never a bit," said he; "it is now just beginning to be gushingly -religious. Haven't we, first of all, our store of hereditary religion, -unconscious in us? And remember that 'the unconscious is the alone -complete.' Religion, I suppose, is whatever binds us back from living to -please our primary natural selves? Therefore religion of old said, 'live -to please those about you'; and man has roughly reached to that, of old -making society possible, now making it solid. But the evolution of 'live -to please those about you,' is it not this: 'live to please those whom -you cannot even see, the unborn'? All which you may hear Rivers say if -you will come with me forthwith to church." - -"Which church?" I asked. - -"Why, Rivers'--or any of the others." - -"But what is it all about?" I asked. - -"Haven't I told you about it again and again?" said he: "but with this -wilful numbness of yours you won't remember anything. It is a Church of -transcendent ambitions, Templeton, aspiring at no less than the planting -under heaven before long of a tribe higher than man, though its methods -of setting about it are of a naiveté bound at first to leave you alien -to their mystery of meaning; its theory is that the fowl precedes the -egg: it grapples with the parent, beginning at the base of the ladder, -its eyes fixed on the flying galaxies; but you wouldn't catch a glimpse -of all at your first visit, and, if you find anything _queerish_, -remember sacring-bells and praying-mills, and remember that the first -British person who happened to broach an umbrella in a public road cast -twelve million fools into a brabble of laughter. Anyhow, I challenge you -to go twice to the new Church without hungering to go thrice." - -"You seem sincere," I said, "but you only wish to win me out of doors, I -suppose. Where did Rivers get money from? He didn't use to be rich." - -"But the whole hubbubboo is more or less early-Christian-communistic," -answered Magee: "people pay, because it is costly, and earns its pay. -Socialism just needed a religious nerve, didn't it? and here you have -it. The base-wall of all is equality--'if one's neck-muscles alone are -brawny,' Rivers always has it, 'he will call no man your lordship.' The -idea is to preach and drill the nation into one army, the train-band of -the times to come, for Rivers is the arch-foe of heterogeneity, he would -have all men as twin as two perfect peas. But the Church is built on -pity as well as on aspiration; equality is swallowed up in fraternity; -charity is her riches, love is her festival. Run chiefly by women, she -is an enthusiasm of the poor for the poor, and for the poorest of the -poor, the child to be born; and to the poor a Gospel is again preached. -You will find them all inflamed with the finest faith in the future, -full of self-culture, ideality, good fellowship, and good food. The -soul, too, is fed with a true emotion and communion of saints, as -distinct from a fictitious: worship takes place." - -"You seem quite enamoured," I said. "But worship of what?" - -"Of God," said he. - -"But which God?" said I, "the old God?" - -"No," said he, "the new God." - -"Ah, the new God," said I, "He is a most vague person: like Langler, I -almost prefer the old God." - -"But is it a question of _preference_?" asked Magee: "prefer as you -please, you can't have the old God: He is as dead as His Church. But His -death is, of course, phoenix-death, and the new God is only vague -because the age is new, and men's brains only just enough evolved to see -Him darkly; soon, I dare say. He will take the darlingest bright -ship-shape. The old God too at first was pitched too high for men's -eyes, hence lapses into idolatry and golden-calfishness, for idolatry is -ever a soul-sloth, an idle backsliding to some lower, more facile ideal -of one's forefathers; and for us now sluggishly to worship the old God -would be equally idolatrous; we must stretch up now to the new, so -making the stretch facile for our children: all which are not my own -ungiven words, but Rivers'; let's go now to him." - -"But is this the right day and hour?" I asked. - -"There's a service every day at noon," he answered, "we should be just -in time." - -Well, I let myself be led. As I was getting ready Magee called to me: -"by the way, you must put on a belt; one doesn't go in braces and -corsets." So I put on a belt, and we went. - -It was a sultry day in May, like summer almost, and most strange, I -remember, was the look and mood of everything to me that day as we drove -to Kensington. Arrived there, under the porch of the church I was struck -by a prodigious fresco of Jesus, which was rather a revelation to me, -for then first I seemed to see Jesus, a brown peasant in a turban--not -going about blessing little children with long hair and nothing on his -head in a blazing climate, according to the too churchy fancy of the -painters, in defiance of St Paul's "It is a shame for a man to have long -hair." Here, anyway, as it struck me, was the Man, the dusky Lily, and -though much too garishly painted, it powerfully engaged our gaze. -However, the crowd pressed; we went in. - -But never yet had I bowed the head under half so vast a house of man! -most vast, though cheap and unhandsome. Magee and I were so fortunate as -to be led far forward toward the stage, and there we sat, each in a pew -four feet long--only one person sitting in each pew--while hosts of nuns -haunted the aisles and seven galleries, nutmegging the air with incense -swung from censers; and I noticed that the roofs were in some way -detached, and the air as pure and fresh as in the open. - -A young man, parting the curtain, stood and howled out with all his -heart a number out of a hymn-book; upon which the host of people started -up, and shouted it--Tennyson's "Brook"--"for men may come and men may -go, but I go on for ever." But that burden of sound was almost too -over-ponderous for the bethundered eardrum! trumpets pealed, organs -braved, while the earthquake and brotherhood of it brushed in -ague-chills down my back, and was still humming about my head -half-a-minute after it was hushed. - -The next twenty minutes were taken up with the Blessed Sacrament, -partaken of in early-Christian manner, only that there was no table. It -was served by a hive of nuns, who bore baskets of sandwiches, fruit, -cakes, etc., and water dashed with wine. The sandwiches were rather -palpable for my palate! but, as with early-Christians, those who were -not hungry no longer partook of the Lord's body, though all drank of his -blood, those who were not thirsty drinking from liqueur-glasses and the -thirsty from tumblers. Meantime, a man at the edge of the stage was -howling: "though I should die with thee, yet will I not deny thee...." -And again he howled with passion: "he was oppressed, yet he humbled -himself, and opened not his mouth; as a lamb that is led to the -slaughter, and as a sheep that before her shearers is dumb: yea! he -opened not his mouth...." - -When this was over the curtains rushed away, the stage was opened, and -for some twenty minutes I was the witness of a set of shows. There was -no dialogue, and never should I have supposed that means so guileless -would persuade to so high a sense of art: each heart, I think, was -touched. The shows were little pictures of man in his various doings and -modes of being, and we had all to become human, and brothers of one -another; in one case it was a dog that caused the music, and we had all -to become brothers of the dog and of one another. First, there sprang -upon the stage a Japanese athlete, naked but for a loin-cloth, who did -nothing but parade himself as our pattern, with a few wanton movements -about the waist to give assurance of his grace and perfected joy. Then -followed a boy and girl who kissed on the sly behind a horrid aunt. Then -a Jewish rag-picker, who did nothing but pick up rags, but still moved -the springs of one's breast with love of him. Then a woman in a loose -garment who lay down on a couch, and we marked the pangs that wrung her; -she ran off slimmer than she came on! laughing! with an infant in her -arms, while the people pursued her with the acclaims proper to victors. -Then a child was stolen, but its mother was joyfully guided to it by a -dog. Then came a ship-boy, a musician who forgot his own name, a grey -astronomer, and three or four more. - -While our hearts were still fond at these shows an acolyth who took his -stand at the front and left of the stage vociferated the shout: -"_Blessed are the poor in spirit!_" and at once there appeared on the -stage a shoeblack, and also a young man rather shabbily dressed, with a -bag in his hand; the young man begged the shoeblack to shine his boots, -for he had stepped into bog: but he made the request with such polite -shynesses and diffidences that the shoeblack at once put him down as a -nobody, and cut some faces at him. When, however, the boots were shined -the shabbily-dressed young man handed the shoeblack a handful of -shillings for his pains. The shoeblack, seeing now that here must be a -millionaire, gaped so open-mouthed at his riches, that only after some -time did he observe that the young man had gone and forgotten his bag -behind. The shoeblack then opened the bag, and drew out what was crowded -within--an old lady's portrait, a lock of hair, a violin, an etching, -and a copy of Ronsard: and the instant he drew out the Ronsard the -acolyth who before had shouted out "blessed are the poor in spirit" rang -now to the high dome his shout of triumph: "for theirs is the kingdom of -the soul!" - -The acolyth next shouted out: "_Blessed are the pure in heart!_" and at -once there appeared an Egyptian man and woman--Joseph and Potiphar's -wife; Joseph had bone tablets in his hand, adding up figures; Potiphar's -wife tickled his neck and drew him: Joseph smiled, pinched her cheek, -puzzling ever over his figures. Still the woman would have him, she -coaxed, she intrigued: Joseph patted her shoulder, shook her ear, -without ever budging or looking up out of his tablets. At last the woman -drew him over to left-centre, Joseph going unconsciously with her; but -at the door itself he woke up, laughed, escaped, as who should say "not -for Joseph," leaving his garment in her hands, and instantly was -puzzling over his figures again. But now all at once Joseph began to -wave out gestures of glad new discovery! The man had detected some -mistake in his arithmetic! and the instant he detected his mistake, the -acolyth gave out the high shout of triumph: "for they shall see God!" - -Then again the acolyth shouted out: "_Blessed are the merciful!_" and at -once there came on a man in brown who cowed a hound, and another man in -bright who was kind to it. Years passed: and Brown and Bright were both -chased in a lane by a madman with a hatchet; but Brown's morose habit of -mind had been the seed in him of biliousness and other ills; he hopped -on crutches, could not escape; but Bright escaped: and the instant he -escaped the acolyth shouted out in triumph: "for they shall obtain -mercy!" - -And so they tripped on through the Beatitudes, teaching the people -biology in parables. Here was a whole new art: the old prejudice of -"Christianity" in respect to the stage had ranged to the other pole, and -Church had changed into stage. How fruitful within the last few years -has been the evolution of these germs we know. At that time no use was -made of the bioscope. The shows were changed each day. - -All at once, when this was over, one was aware of the presence of -Ambrose Rivers, whereat my eyes ran through the hall to its seventh -heaven, and saw it all like leafage of the aspen-forest, while Rivers -advanced from the stage-back bent beneath the storm of cheers. And -poised just over the orchestra-pews, with a pure voice that pealed -through the vast, he vociferated: "Let us reverence That Which made us!" - -Thereupon he fell to his knees, with his arms stretched up straight and -parallel; all the people did the same, while the orchestra rendered -Vogel's "Eternal Tool"; and Rivers, gazing straight upward, shouted: -"Father! hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Give us our bread -to-day. And forgive us our debt as we forgive everyone who is in our -debt. Amen."[1] - -[Footnote 1: The whole of "The Lord's Prayer" as uttered by Jesus; the -rest added by commonplace rude people.] - -This said, after a minute his arms shot horizontal, his neck bowed, and, -still kneeling, he shouted to us: "Let us reverence one another in our -human ancestors!" - -And while the choir gave "Mild son of man, thy front sublime," all our -arms shot horizontal, each worshipper straining to touch the finger-tips -of his neighbour to left and right, for the shoulder-joint is capable of -no little stretching, with practice. - -This done, Rivers rose to his feet with the shout: "Let us reverence the -ape, without bending the knee or the neck!" - -And thereupon, while the orchestra rendered Brewers' "Ye humble wombs -with homage fraught," he put his finger-tips to the ground. Through the -building everyone put his or her finger-tips to the ground. - -When this was over Rivers shouted: "Let us reverence the half-apes!" - -Whereupon, without bending the knees or the neck, he put the first -finger-joint to the ground; and while the choir gave Thibaut's "Crooked -shapes, the alphabet of life," everyone did the same--or tried to. As it -were a wind of breaths began to whiff through the building. - -Rivers next shouted: "Let us reverence the dog!" - -And with this he put his fists to the ground. We all tried our best to -do the same, while the choir gave Sauer-Motti's "Dark Backward and Abysm -of Time." - -Rivers next shouted: "Let those of us who can reverence all That Which -is below the dog!" And with this, without bending the knees or the -neck, while the orchestra gave the overture to "The Creation," he put -his palms on the ground. - -But it was no easy matter to reverence all That Which is below the dog! -I can now do it with nonchalance, but it tried me then. It was not a -mere question of putting the palms on the ground, but of keeping them -there during three straining minutes, with the eyes of ladies -criticising your performance! However, I rose from the effort a -straighter man: it is this touching what is beneath without bending the -knees which makes soldiers, and also saints. Meantime, I was charmed -with the movements of the hosts of nuns and other ladies, who, it was -clear, vied with one another in ease and achievement: I thought that -some of them must certainly have a selection of lovers. - -When this was over Rivers called to us: "Let us sum up and reverence -all!" whereat everyone held up a bamboo rod behind the back with the -stretched arms, and, sitting tight, swung the shoulders smartly, this -way and that alternately, thus hardening the muscles of the back. And so -it was during twenty minutes: when we reviewed the Past we stood -fronting the stage, but with our necks strained back, looking at the -opposite wall; when we aspired to the Future we struck our chests with -our knees, an exaggerated going-upstairs; when we were meek we dropped -our body upon our heels with force enough to bounce us up again, an -exaggerated curtsey, thus oiling the hinges of the knee-joints; when we -were merciful we bent far sideward to left and right, trying to touch -the ground; when we were pure in heart we bent backward at the waist to -touch the ground behind, and so on. - -All this was, of course, highly exhilarating, both in itself, and -because done in fellowship with a host of people all making the same -gestures at the same moment; but it did not yet edify, did not move me -religiously; and, because it did not, I thought to my self: "it is not a -fitting function for _a Church_." Within a few weeks, however, I was to -find how very far at fault I was in this, for the gestures only failed -to edify me at first for the reason that in my consciousness there was -no correlation between each gesture and its husband idea: _habit_ was -essential for that. Thus to nations that do not kneel to pray, nor raise -the hand to say "hist!" these gestures are destitute of pertinence: -there is no correlation. But when habit had once set up in my mind a -wedlock between gesture and idea, then the gestures became as touching -to the soul as they were teaching of a wonder of buoyancy and joy to the -body. - -When the exercises were over Rivers spoke to the people. By birth or -learning he had the lungs of a bull, and to the giddiness of the seventh -gallery, I believe, his bellows must have blown. On the whole, he -impressed me as a real prophet or outspeaker, speaking his truth like -the wayfaring of a force of nature, without humour, ire, respect, or -prospect. I can't recall much that he said, but he called the people to -joy, telling them that a bad tree could not bring forth good fruit, -neither could unhappy men beget happy generations. Joy of heart was -their obligation, for they were the ancestors of God, the future hung on -their joys. "Behold!" he howled, "I bring you word! your life is worth -living if you live it a little well." Of course, no one yet half knew -how to live it well; but, thanks to the pryers and the tryers, one knew -a little. Already a howling gaiety might be theirs. One rather good -thing was to live a moment at a time, ruminating the moment's relish -deliciously, as when that morning on opening his eyes he had said to -himself: "Alive! and still young! not a twinge nor a grief throughout! -refugee of a thousand hungry hells! this, then, is my turn in the -turning of Eternity: for the men of Misgab and of Bagdad are dead, but I -am alaugh for a little while." Then he had run round Hyde Park, and -half-way round could not help howling all hey and conversant with wind -and the Holy Ghost, to the disgusting of everyone. If there was one -thing in this marsh of Divinity more divine than all the rest, it was -wind, and ever in March and big November God was with men; but only -those dreamed how divine who ran far into it, and breathed it deeply, -and drowned in it, and browsed bedrowsedly upon all the sound and sounds -of it. Then he had returned home, and had eaten a ton. If they wished to -have boisterously high and holy joy of their breakfast, they must work -for it, should run at least a mile or two. Joy, then, gushing health, -and they knew what went all in fusion with gushing health--chastity, -fortnights of titanic continence. Who was the happiest and best of men? -He happened to know, and would tell them: not essentially the saint, the -philosopher, the plutocrat, but essentially the acrobat--the man with -his fibres mobile, his breast like pent Pentecost. The saint, the -philosopher, the artist, were happy also, but only because they were -acrobats in their fashion. This was just the news of Christianity, that -along the path of self-torture lay in ambush a marvel of awaking, a -scarlet dawn: to evolve they must twist themselves. And let them know -that the soul was a trick of the body. The result of a beauish body was -a religious saltarello. Were they covetous to stride out into the -infinite?--let them scout in the finite on every side. _Mens sancta in -corpore sancto._ No more, then, of the old necks, teeth, effete souls. -With respect to teeth, there was a misconception abroad which he wished -to correct: they all knew that in a few ages man was fated to become a -toothless gumption: well, but there were two paths to that gate, not -only through decay, but, secondly, through the decrease of the teeth in -size, till at last they disappeared. Let them choose the latter by chary -mating. Devotion to evolution was for the future their only possible -piety; so their own bodies must be their care all day long, till their -every movement of muscle or brain was a pattern of grace. Perfection! it -had to be: why not now? greyhounds were perfect. The men of late -generations had really been rather grotesque, crowds of them strutting -their personalities about in some rag or gaud of spiritual skill, yet -glaring with the lues of a low evolution. One of the most highly-famed -poets of the nineteenth century had had--what did they think?--a paunch. -"Ho! Ho!" he howled, "think of the pure grotesqueness of it! a poet with -a pouch! no wonder he was obscure! it is like a poet with spectacles on -his nose! or a poet with bo-peep in his teeth, whom no pious miss would -kiss!" No, that wouldn't do. The chimpanzee vaunted a paunch, and we -were devoutly getting done with paunches now, thank God. From men of -this age God did not so much need glorious books, of which He was -choke-full, but was greedy for glorious children, darting eyes, laughing -caverns. The men of the past had learned from St Paul that "bodily -exercise profiteth little"; for us it was the main means of grace and -the sole hope of glory, of grace for the Roman, of glory for the race. -By it they would attain to harmony with God. It had been said by men of -old: "God is Love." "How could they possibly know it?" he shouted: "how -profound an insight! for this that to us is old science and certainty -to them was only surmise. But what, then, does God love? Not apes, not -men, His taste being a bit touchy: God, we know, did once love, or press -toward, apes when only dogs and half-apes were; and He did once love men -when only ape-people were; but the moment men appeared He left off -loving them, and was for loving their children: always it is evolution -that He loves, change, the future, with urge and urge and urge." So in -loving the future they would be all in harmony with Him, loving what He -loved. That future was full of shapes and plays. Happily, they could -shape themselves to pledge and usher it in: for that was the right of -man--to change himself; that was the definition of man--"a self-changing -midget"; and an age was in the eye of the Highest when, by the -heightening of this right of self-change, earthly lives would writhe in -a trice into any shape of wyvern, or moose, or shivering seraph, or -moon-eyed octopus, or quadruped with its belly to the sky and its back -to the earth. Meantime, by pitifuler pantings, they, if they were fat, -could make themselves fit; if they were short, they should, by taking -thought, add one quarter-cubit to their stature; if they were bow-legged -like the orang, self-bearding would get themselves knock-kneed like the -cock; if they were starting and rapturous like the gorilla, they could -get themselves impregnably calm like the overman; in an age or two they -could change or redress their quite unnecessary length of arm, of spine, -their over-plump shortness of leg, their base remoteness of sex-organ -from brain, their too shameful "_ears_," sham thumbs. They must tackle -themselves humbly and in detail. Christianity had been far too heady and -star-drunken, had made a leap three feet high to pluck Venus from the -sky. We of this age must be more grave and grown-up, more self-conscious -and disabused, must use a ladder, come back to the classic. The -romantic would return some day in some new dress, for classic and -romantic were alternate moods of the mind, neither could ever die. But -for us of this age it was the classic, the austere, bare comeliness of -reason. If our life and worship was barer and harder than that of the -past, it was also far higher. But let them not view our worship as yet -worthy to be so called. The idol of the worship of the time to come -would be the nightly sky. Man, so far, though with a much larger -subconsciousness, looked forth at the stars with a consciousness little -larger than that of gorillas, even with some fatigue; was still a -villager of the earth, not yet a civilian of the universe; a few of the -most elfin ears, they were told did, it was true, by an effort, and -dullishly, catch some actual tollings of the chiming and dulcimers; but -he believed that brains larger than ours, when they came, would pass -pretty nearly all of life in brooding upon the runes of that writing. -Let them wait, meekly grooming themselves to greet that "come to the -marriage" which they would hear, and soon, lo, the scales would fall -from man's eyes, his tongue should be loosed and enchanted, and the -earth should arise at last as the mourning-dove to hie to her room in -the chancel of the heavens. - -When Rivers had finished speaking we sang another hymn; again the -trumpets pealed, organs braved, while the road-march and high -brotherhood of it brushed in shiverings over one's back, and troubled -the vast building to its base: - - "Time like an ever-rolling stream - Bears all his sons away, - They fly forgotten. :::" - - -THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH - - * * * * * - -IMPORTANT NEW NOVELS - - - =LIFE'S SHOP WINDOW.= VICTORIA CROSS. - =THE HUSBAND HUNTER.= OLIVIA ROY. - =THE KING'S WIFE.= HÉLČNE VACARESCO. - =BLINDMAN'S MARRIAGE.= FLORENCE WARDEN. - =SINEWS OF WAR.= EDEN PHILLPOTTS and ARNOLD BENNETT. - =THE WIRE TAPPERS.= ARTHUR STRINGER. - - -T. WERNER LAURIE, CLIFFORD'S INN, LONDON - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Last Miracle, by M. P. Shiel - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST MIRACLE *** - -***** This file should be named 41794-8.txt or 41794-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/7/9/41794/ - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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