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diff --git a/old/64152-0.txt b/old/64152-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7c13d57..0000000 --- a/old/64152-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3644 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Strange Visitation, by Marie Corelli - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Strange Visitation - -Author: Marie Corelli - -Release Date: December 28, 2020 [eBook #64152] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was - produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital - Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRANGE VISITATION *** - - - - -THE STRANGE VISITATION - - - - - THE - STRANGE VISITATION - - BY - MARIE CORELLI - - AUTHOR OF “THE LIFE EVERLASTING” “THELMA” “HOLY - ORDERS” “THE SORROWS OF SATAN” ETC. ETC. - - HODDER AND STOUGHTON - LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO - - - - -THE - -STRANGE VISITATION - - -A wild night, with a gale of wind, a wind that scratched and tore -and howled at doors and windows like an angry cat spitting and -spluttering--its miauling voice now rising, now sinking--at one moment -savage, at another querulous, but always incessant of complaint, -with a threatening under snarl of restless rage in its tone. A wild -night!--full of storm and quarrel, with occasional dashes of cold rain -sweeping down on the shrieking blast like gusts of angry tears--a noisy -night in which the elements were at open war with themselves, making -no secret of their hostile intentions--and yet it was the one night of -all nights in the year when “peace and goodwill” were the suggested -influences of the time. For it was Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve! What a -wonderful anniversary it is, if we would but pause in our reckless and -senseless rush onward to the grave, just to think quietly about it for -a moment! Long, long ago--yet but a short while since--if we count by -the world’s great epochs of civilisation wherein a little two thousand -years are but a moment--a host of Angels descended from heaven and sang -a joyous hymn of general amnesty to mankind on the first Christmas -Eve that ever was--and according to the noble poesy of high-thinking, -God-revering John Milton: - - “No war or battle’s sound - Was heard the world around, - The idle spear and shield were high up hung; - The unhookèd chariot stood - Unstain’d with hostile blood, - The trumpet spake not to the armèd throng; - And kings sat still with awful eye - As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. - - “And peaceful was the night - Wherein the Prince of Light - His reign of peace upon the earth began; - The winds, with wonder whist, - Smoothly the waters kist, - Whisp’ring new joys to the mild oceàn, - Who now hath quite forgot to rave, - While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave!” - -One wonders if--in those far-off days of angel-singing--there was -such a thing as a millionaire? Not a merely “rich” man;--not a “Wise -Man of the East,” who, possessing knowledge and insight as well as -wealth, hastened to bring his gold with frankincense and myrrh, and -to lay these reverently in the humble manger which served as cradle -to a Child, whose vast power was destined to conquer and subdue -all the mightiest kings of the earth:--but an actual money-gorged, -banknote-stuffed ruler of some octopus-like “Trade,” whose tentacles -clutched and held everything within its reach--some owner of huge -factories where human creatures “sweated” their lives out to fill his -pockets, and died in their hundreds,--perchance their thousands--in -order that he, like some monstrous bloated leech, should swell to the -point of bursting on the blood he sucked from their throbbing arteries! -Was there such an one existing in the miracle days when the “Glory to -God in the Highest!” rang from star to star, from point to point of the -myriad constellations, like a great wave of melody breaking against -illimitable and endless shores? Surely not!--else there would have -been some break in the music!--some ugly jar in the divine chorus! For -instance, if there had at that time been living a multi-millionaire -at all resembling the one whose strange experiences are now about to -be related, the angels would have fled in dismay and weeping from the -spectacle of a soul so warped from good, so destitute of sympathy, so -drained and dry of every drop of the milk of human kindness, and so -utterly at variance with the “peace and goodwill” of which they sang! - -Yet no one will deny that a multi-millionaire is a great man. What -multi-millionaire was ever considered otherwise? It was the glorious -environment of multi-millionaire-ism that made Josiah McNason -great--and Josiah McNason was a very great man indeed. Quite apart -from his connection with you and me, dear reader, as the immediate -subject of this story, he was great in business, great in success, -great in wealth, great in power, and more than great in his own -opinion. Small wonder that he thought much of himself, seeing that -thousands of people thought so much of him. Thousands of people had -him on their minds, and lay awake at nights, uneasily wondering -what might be his next financial “deal.” For on his little finger -he balanced mighty “combines.” At his nod “companies” collapsed -like card-houses, or rose up again with the aerial brilliancy of -“castles in Spain,”--the pulse of Trade beat fast or slow as suited -his humour,--speculators on ’Change whispered his name in accents of -mingled hope and terror,--aye, even kings were known not to be averse -to receiving Josiah in private audience, though they might, and did, -deny the privilege to such others of their subjects whose plea was -one of merit more than cash. The fact stood out very patently to both -royalty and commons alike, that Josiah McNason was a man to be reckoned -with,--a man to be studied and considered,--a man whose moods must be -tolerated, and whose irritations must be soothed,--a man to be coaxed -and coddled,--a man to whom the highest personages in the land might -safely--(and even advantageously)--send presents of grouse and salmon -in their seasons,--a man whom it was considered politic not to offend. -But why? Why all this trouble and anxiety from Majesty itself down -to toiling bank-clerks, with respect to the fits and vagaries of one -puny biped, neither handsome to look at, nor pleasant to speak with, -but merely, taken as nature made him, an irascible, cut-and-dry pigmy -of a man, not worth either a curse or a blessing, to judge by his -outward appearance? Oh well! Merely because, by speaking him fair and -flatteringly, it might be easier to borrow money of him! Everyone with -even a small surplus quantity of this world’s goods, knows the taste of -that diplomatic bread-and-honey which is always cautiously administered -by one dear friend to some other whose pockets are to be tested. Josiah -got such bread-and-honey all day long. Someone was always feeding or -trying to feed him with it. His appetite however was fastidious, and -he seldom swallowed the cloying bait. Even when he did gulp down a -large wedge of it with a distrustful smile, it did not have the effect -intended. Instead of softening his financial digestion and rendering -him pliable, it appeared to make him harder and tougher in mental -fibre. The gleam in his cold expressionless eye bored through the -soul of the would-be-borrower of cash like a gimlet, and divined his -intention before the said borrower could so much as mumble out--“Could -you--would you, Mr. McNason--make me a trifling advance?--offer good -security--great convenience to me just now!”--trailing the sentence -away into indistinguishable fragments as Josiah snapped his thin pale -lips on the “No!” which, with sharp snarling sound, hopelessly closed -the discussion. - -It was Christmas Eve,--and though this fact has already been stated -before, it cannot for the purposes of the present veracious chronicle -of events be too strongly insisted upon. It was the Eve of the -Angels,--and no devils were supposed to be anywhere about. For, as our -Shakespeare tells us:-- - - “Ever ’gainst that season comes - Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated, - The bird of dawning singeth all night long, - And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad; - The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, - No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, - So hallow’d and so gracious is the time!” - -Perhaps the great McNason, if he had not been so occupied with himself -and his own affairs, might have thought of these lines when, on -leaving his head office in the city, he travelled with the swiftness -of the wind through a storm of sleet and snow to his palatial private -abode some twenty miles out of town, rushing along at full speed in -a superb motor-car sumptuously furnished with a rain-proof covering, -rugs, foot-warmers, and all the luxurious paraphernalia wherewith a -multi-millionaire may shield his valuable joints from the cold. For he -professed, did McNason, to have Shakespearean proclivities, and had -been heard to declare publicly that he preferred the Bard of Avon to -the Bible. That was the way he put things,--with all the agreeable -free-and-easy indifference to religion and to other folks religious -sentiments which so frequently embellishes the character of the -multi-millionaire. As a matter of fact he knew nothing about either -the Immortal Plays or Holy Writ. They were sealed books to his limited -comprehension. The divine teachings of Scripture, and the broadly -beneficent and tender philosophy of Shakespeare were alike beyond him. -He understood Ledger Literature in its every branch,--every smallest -point concerning L.S.D. was familiar to him,--and such “quotations” -from books as he could make, were intimately connected with the Stock -Market. But for all romance he had a fine contempt, and for poetry and -poetic sentiment a saturnine derision. More than anything perhaps, -he hated and scorned any idea of things “supernatural.” He attended -church very regularly on Sundays,--oh yes!--that was a particular -item of “conscience and respectability” with him. But as everything -he heard there had to do with “supernatural” matters, it is safe to -presume that he was a hypocrite in going to listen to what he did not -believe. However, in this he was not exceptional,--there are many like -him. “Respectability” may be permitted to play the humbug when it is a -millionaire, and drives to its country seat in a motor-car costing two -thousand guineas, especially on Christmas Eve, which--despite colossal -fortune-makers--remains indissolubly associated in the human mind with -Poverty and a Manger. And it was with all the glow and splendour of -humbug shining lustrously about him that the world-renowned McNason -stepped out of his sumptuous vehicle as it stopped at his own door, and -entered his stately baronial hall, where four powdered and liveried -flunkeys stood waiting deferentially to receive him. Taking scarcely -any notice of these gorgeous personages, who were in his sight no -more than flower-pots, umbrella stands, or other portions of ordinary -household furniture, he addressed himself to a fifth retainer, severely -attired in black, who, by a set of cords and tassels on his left -shoulder and the effective simplicity of his costume as compared with -the liveries of the other menials, implied to all whom it might concern -that he was the commanding officer or major-domo of the royal McNason -household. - -“Anybody called, Towler?” - -“Yessir. Mr. Pitt.” - -“Mr. Pitt? Dear me! I saw him only this morning at the office. What did -he want?” - -“I couldn’t say, sir. He is waiting to see you.” - -“Waiting? Here--at this hour?” - -“Yessir. In the library.” - -With a frown of irritation, the great Josiah threw off his sable-lined -overcoat, which was received obsequiously by one of the powdered -lacqueys in attendance, while a second accepted his hat with an air of -grateful and profound humility. Then he walked slowly, deliberately, -not to say in heavy-footed style, along a broad corridor, dimly yet -richly lit by electric light filtering through coloured glass, where -classic marbles were artistically grouped here and there in snowy -contrast with the dark fall of velvet draperies and pyramidal masses -of flowers,--where Venus gazed from under her sleepless lids, with -white eyeballs astare at the ugly little man who passed her without -looking up,--where Mercury, poising on tip-toe with winged heels, -appeared to meditate an immediate flight from the wizened, wrinkled, -moneyed creature below him who was so far and away from any conception -of the god-like--and where Psyche, bending over the butterfly in her -small caressing hands, seemed almost to shudder lest the very breath -of the celebrated millionaire should shrivel the delicate expanding -wings of the Immortal Soul she so tenderly fostered. Preceded by -the black-costumed Towler, who threw open various doors majestically -as he advanced, Josiah entered the library, warm and cheerful with -the red heat and glow of a sparkling log fire. A well-dressed -gentlemanly-looking man who had been sitting near the table turning -over a newspaper, rose as he approached and stood a moment without -speaking, as though in some doubt or hesitation. - -“Well, Pitt, what’s the matter? Anything gone wrong since this morning?” - -“No, sir. Nothing.” - -“Oh! Then what are you here for at such an hour and in such weather, -eh?” - -Mr. Pitt hummed and hawed. He was one of McNason’s most trusted -overseers; and at the great factories which daily ground down human -lives into the McNason millions, he had under his management a very -large number of the men employed. The only fault that could be found -with him from a strictly business point of view was, that he had some -vestiges of a heart. These vestiges were troubling him a little just -now. - -“There was one thing I forgot to mention to you in my report to-day,” -he began; “I can’t think how it slipped my memory.” - -“Neither can I!” and Josiah smiled a hard smile--“Whatever it is, if -_you_ forgot it, it cannot be of much importance!” - -Mr. Pitt did not seem to perceive the implied compliment to himself. - -“Well, perhaps not,”--he answered slowly,--“still I should blame myself -if I neglected it--I should certainly blame myself----” - -Here he broke off and coughed nervously, while McNason, drawing a large -elbow-chair to the fire, sat down and spread out his thin veiny hands -to the blaze in irresponsive silence. - -“It’s--it’s about Willie Dove, sir----” he said. - -McNason looked up with peering eyes that narrowed at the corners like -those of a snake. - -“Willie Dove!” he echoed, slowly. “H’m--h’m--let me see! Who is Willie -Dove?” - -“Surely you remember him?” replied Pitt, quickly, with a touch of -warmth in his tone--“Twenty-five years ago he was one of the smartest -travellers in your employ----” - -“Was he?” And McNason smiled blandly, but indifferently. - -“Why, yes of course he was!” and Mr. Pitt’s voice grew still -warmer with feeling as he spoke--“Surely, Mr. McNason, you can’t -have altogether forgotten him? He made immense business for the -firm,--immense! A wonderfully active and energetic man,--never lost -time or opportunity and brought us no end of valuable custom----” - -“Quite right of him!” interpolated McNason,--“He did his duty, no -doubt, and was paid for doing it. Well?” - -Mr. Pitt played absently with his watch-chain. He was conscious that a -check had been summarily put on any eloquent dissertation he might have -been disposed to make concerning the past abilities and qualifications -of Willie Dove. - -“I thought--I fancied you might perhaps be interested,” he murmured. - -“Twenty-five years is a long time, Pitt,” said McNason, slowly,--“a -very long time! It is a quarter of a century. One’s interest in any man -is apt to exhaust itself naturally in such a period.” - -Mr. Pitt looked up quickly, and then looked down. There was something -in the hard, furrowed countenance of Josiah that suggested a mental dry -heat or dry cold,--any force in fact, that may be known to absorb or -disperse particles of generous sentiment. Yet Pitt was not a coward, -and though he stood in wholesome awe of the captious moods and whims -of the great millionaire upon whom his own existence and that of his -family depended, he determined not to relinquish the errand on which he -was bound without a struggle. - -“Well, sir,” he resumed, in accents rendered firm by a kind of inward -desperation, “whether you are interested or not, I think it my duty to -tell you that Willie Dove,--the man who through his energy, fidelity -and tact, helped to establish the firm, is now lying seriously ill. He -is nearly sixty years old, and having a large family to provide for, -had been unable to put by anything for his own rainy day----” - -“He should not have had a large family,”--interpolated McNason, -stretching out his lean ill-shaped legs more comfortably in front of -the fire--“it’s quite his own fault!” - -“Perhaps,” proceeded Pitt, with considerable emphasis, “if he had been -less honest and high-principled in his business connection with us, he -might have been more well-to-do in his own affairs. But, as matters -stand, his position is a sad one. He is afflicted with a painful -disease, which, however, can be absolutely cured by an immediate -surgical operation. The doctors assure him that he will be well and -strong enough to live out his full measure of years comfortably and -usefully if he will only submit to their treatment----” - -“Well, if he wants to live, why doesn’t he?” inquired McNason, lazily. - -“Simply because he can’t afford it,” replied Pitt, bluntly. - -The great millionaire took up a poker, and looking critically at the -fire, broke a large gaseous lump of coal into a bright blaze. - -“Oh! Well, that settles it,” he said. “Then I suppose he must, as the -common folk say, ‘go home’!” - -A sparkle of indignation lightened Mr. Pitt’s quiet grey eyes. But he -restrained his feelings. - -“The operation fee would be a hundred guineas,” he went on in a calm -business-like tone--“Good nursing and a change of air would perhaps run -into a hundred more. Say two hundred pounds. That sum would save his -life.” - -“I daresay!” And McNason’s thin lips widened into a grin--“But if he -hasn’t got the two hundred, he must accept the inevitable. After all, -when a man is nearly sixty, a few years more or less in the world -doesn’t matter!” - -Mr. Pitt looked at his employer steadily. - -“Have you any cause of complaint or offence against Dove, sir?” - -McNason met his inquiring eyes with his own special gimlet glance, -sharp as the point of a screw. - -“None! Not the least in the world! Why should I? I scarcely remember -the man!” - -“Well, if you have nothing against him, would you not perhaps be -inclined to help him? The claims of your business are, I know, -enormous, and it is of course easy to forget the names and identities -of the various persons who have all done their little best to build -up the firm,--but Dove’s is really an exceptional case. He was always -liked and respected at the works,--many of the men there know him well -and speak most highly of him, and I can add my own testimony to that of -the others. It seems a pity to let so faithful a servant of the firm -die for want of a little first aid----” - -“Did he send you to beg of me?” asked McNason with a kind of vicious -abruptness. - -Mr. Pitt’s pale face flushed a little. - -“Certainly not, Mr. McNason! Willie Dove would never beg of any man. He -merely told me his case and said: ‘Perhaps Mr. McNason would lend me -the money. I would work it all back.’ And to speak the truth, I really -thought--yes, sir, I really thought you would be glad to lend it!--even -to _give_ it! Two hundred pounds is no more to you than two hundred -pence would be to me. But supposing you make it a loan, and have any -doubts as to Dove’s ability or willingness to pay it back, I myself -will be security for him. I would advance him the money if I had it to -spare,--but unfortunately I am rather pressed for cash just now--I also -have a large family----” - -McNason smiled a smile resembling the death-grin of the fabulous dragon -of St. George. - -“A mistake, Pitt!--quite a mistake! Large families merely make the -world more difficult to live in and money scarcer to get! Money needs -to be kept in close quarters--close, very close quarters! It has a -habit of running away unless it is imprisoned, Pitt! It runs away much -faster than it runs in! Governments know that!--and kings! And when -governments and kings find it slipping through their fingers, they come -to Me!--to me, Josiah McNason!--and I tell you what it is, Pitt, I’ve -enough to do with lending money to Big Persons and taking securities on -Big Things without bothering myself concerning Little Commercials! See? -I lend to Royalties, Titles and Magnificences of all classes and all -nations,--and I’ve done so much lately in this line that I’m short of -money myself just now, Pitt!--ha, ha!--I’m short of money!” - -Mr. Pitt stared, and was for a moment speechless. He had often thought -(taking shame to himself for indulging in such a reflection) that Mr. -McNason was certainly a very ugly man, but he had never seen him look -uglier than at the present moment. Such a mouthing, wrinkled mask of a -face as the firelight now flashed upon was surely not often seen among -living humanity. Even the grey-white goatee beard that adorned Josiah’s -sharp chin, wagged up and down with its possessor’s silent mirth in a -fashion which made its expression abnormally atrocious. - -“I’m short of money!” repeated the millionaire, rubbing his hands -pleasantly together--“I don’t mind lending this Willie Dove five -pounds, as you say he served the firm well a quarter of a century -ago,--but two hundred! Now, Mr. Pitt, you’re a sensible man,--a man of -business,--and you know that to ask such a sum on loan for a decayed -and diseased commercial traveller is absurd! He would never be able to -‘work it back’ as he says. And as for your being his security, I have -too much respect for you to allow you to put yourself into such an -awkward position. You’d regret it,--you really would, Pitt! Besides, -why not let Dove go to one of the Hospitals and take his chance among -the young students and general cutters-up of bodies, eh? They’d charge -him very little--perhaps nothing--especially if they found his disease -complex enough for good ‘practice’!” - -Mr. Pitt gave an unconscious gesture of physical repulsion. - -“Mrs. Dove has a nervous horror of her husband’s being separated -from her,”--he said, slowly--“She says that if he is taken away to a -hospital she feels sure he will never come back. Then again, she has -great faith in the doctor who has been attending Dove for the past six -months--and he strongly recommends a private operation.” - -“Of course! He wants to put the money into his own pocket,”--said -McNason, calmly--“Well! I can’t be of any assistance in this -business--so if that’s all you came about, you may consider that you -have done your duty, and that the interview is finished. Good-night, -Mr. Pitt!” - -But Pitt still hesitated. - -“It is Christmas Eve, sir,----” he began, falteringly. - -“It is. I have been reminded of that fact several times to-day. What of -it?” - -“Nothing, sir, except--except--that it is a time of year when everyone -tries to do some little kindness to his neighbour, and when we all -endeavour to help the poor and sick according to our means,--and--and -when some of us who are getting old may look back on our past lives -and remember the ones we have loved who are no longer here,--when even -you, sir,--you might perhaps think of your only son who is gone,--the -son of the firm, as we used to call him,--Willie Dove carried the child -many times on his shoulder round the works to see the engines in full -swing,--and he was very fond of Willie--and--er--and--as I say, sir, -you might, perhaps, for the dead boy’s sake, do a good turn----” - -He paused. The millionaire had half risen from his chair, and was -gripping its cushioned elbows hard with both hands. - -“How dare you!” he muttered in choked accents--“How dare you use the -memory of my dead son to urge a beggar’s plea! Why do you presume to -probe an old grief--a cureless sorrow--in an attempt to get money out -of me! Because it is Christmas Eve? Curse Christmas Eve!” - -His voice sank to a hiss of rage, and Mr. Pitt, nervously shrinking -within himself, sought for his hat and made towards the door. A -terrific gust of rain just then swept against the windows like a shower -of small stones, accompanied by the shrieking yowl of the wind. - -“Christmas Eve!” repeated McNason, fixing his eyes with cold derision -on his abashed overseer--“Peace and goodwill! That sounds like it, -doesn’t it?” And he shook one hand with a mocking gesture towards the -rattling casements. “Hear the storm? Any angels singing in it, do you -think? Any God about? Bah! Christmas is a vulgar superstition born of -barbarous idolatry! It serves nowadays as a mere excuse for the lower -classes to gorge themselves with food, get drunk, and generally make -beasts of themselves! There is no more ‘Peace and goodwill’ in it than -there is in a public-house beer fight! And as for doing kindnesses -to each other, I’ll be bound there’s not a man at my works who isn’t -trying to get a bigger round of beef or a fatter goose for himself -than his neighbour can afford. That’s charity! It begins at home! -_You_ know that, Mr. Pitt! Ha-ha! You know that--you have a large -family! Christmas is a humbug, like most ‘religious’ festivals”--here -he stretched his thin mouth into that unbecoming slit which suggested -smiling, but was nothing like a smile--“I never keep it--and I do my -best to forget it! Good-night!” - -“Good-night, sir,”--and Mr. Pitt, hat in hand, stood for a moment -facing his employer--“I am sorry if I have troubled you--or--or -offended you! I did not mean to do so. I hope you will excuse my -boldness! I made a mistake--I thought you might be pleased to do -something for an old servant of the firm;--I--I--er--Good-night!” - -The door opened and closed softly. He was gone. - -McNason looked after him with a frown. - -“Like his impudence!” he muttered--“Like his damned impudence! -Following me up here all the way from the city and begging me to lend -two hundred pounds to a man I hardly ever saw--except--except once -or twice when my boy was alive. Among the hundreds and hundreds of -travellers for the firm, how the devil should I be expected to remember -Willie Dove!” - -He settled himself once more in his elbow-chair, and poked the fire -vigorously till the bright blaze spread a brilliant glow well over -the room, flashing ruddily on the rows of well-bound books, on the -marble busts of poets and historians, on the massive desk strewn with -letters and papers and lit with electric reading-lamps at either -end, and on all the luxurious appurtenances for the study of either -Ledgers or Literature which, in these days of superfluous comfort -and convenience, assist in furnishing the library of a millionaire. -He had dined in town, and there was nothing for him to do except to -read,--write,--or sit and meditate. He was alone,--but that was his -customary condition when in his own house, unless on those occasions -when he chose to invite a select party of persons, often including -Royalty itself, to stay with him as guests, and graze on him, as it -were, like sheep on a particularly fat pasture. But he never asked -people to visit him at all unless for the ulterior purpose of making -use of them in business; and just now he had no important object in -view that could be served by dining or wining anybody. It was an -awkward time of year,--Christmas-time, in fact. It is always an awkward -time for anyone who is incurably selfish. Those who have homes and love -them, go to such homes and stay there with their families,--those who -are callous concerning home-ties and home-affections, have been known -to start for the Riviera (especially that section of it known as Monte -Carlo) with “tourist” tickets or otherwise;--in short, everybody has a -way of doing as they like, or, if not quite as they like, as near to -what they like as they can, at that so-called “festive” season. One -naturally thinks that a multi-millionaire would surely have all the -amusements and gaieties of the world at his command,--but it seemed -that Josiah McNason could find nothing wherewith to amuse himself, -all business being at a standstill for a few days,--while as for -gaiety!--dear me, the very word could barely have been uttered by the -boldest person after one glance at his face! He sat, or rather huddled -himself in the depths of his chair with a kind of dull satisfaction in -his mind to think that in a couple of hours or so he would be going to -bed. There was a damp and chilly feeling in the air; the cry of the -incessant wind was teasing and shrewish--and he drew himself nearer to -the fire, finding comfort in its warmth and dancing flame. He began to -con over certain imposing figures representing the huge sums realized -by his firm during the past half-year,--and, with furrowed brows,--so -harshly wrinkled that his grey eyebrows met across a small chasm of -yellow sunken flesh,--he calculated that his own personal fortune had -accumulated to the colossal height of nearly twelve millions sterling. -He moistened his lips with his tongue, drawing that member between his -teeth with a sharp smacking sound as of satisfactory nut cracking. - -“I think,”--he said, half aloud,--“I think the time is ripe for a -Peerage! I can spare--now, let me see!--yes!--I can spare the money! -Twenty thousand pounds to a hospital will almost do it! And perhaps -another twenty thousand in some more private quarter, and,--a little -diplomacy!” He sniggered softly and rubbed his hands. “Lord McNason -will sound well,--very well! If my son had lived----” - -Here the heavy frown again made an abyss of his brow. He stared into -the fire with a kind of melancholy sullenness, and began to think. -His thinking was half involuntary, for he was not a man who cared to -dwell on memories of the past or possibilities of the present. Yet, -despite himself, he found his mind wandering through various byways of -reminiscence back to the time when he was young, with all the world -before him,--when, through the crafty instruction of an over-moneyed -American capitalist he had learned by heart that celebrated paraphrase -of a well-known divine text--“‘Do’ others as you would not be ‘done.’” -He saw himself practically adopting this rule of life and conduct -with brilliant results. He traced the beginning of the great inflow -of gold which now encrusted him and rolled him up as it were in a -yellow metallic shroud, a singular and separate creature, apart from -other men. He recalled against his own will an incident in his career -which he would fain have forgotten, when at about thirty-seven years -of age he had won the first affections of a sweet and beautiful girl -of seventeen whom afterwards he had heartlessly jilted, for no fault -of her own, but merely because her father had through sad mischance -suddenly lost his fortune. Then,--his mind persisting in its abnormal -humour of harking back like a hunted hare to old covers,--he reviewed -the circumstances of his loveless marriage with the daughter of a -millionaire who was at that time half as rich again as himself,--and -even now, though she was dead, it was not without a sense of angry -pique and nervous irritation that he remembered her utter callousness -and indifference to his personality,--her light regard for his wealth, -which she scattered recklessly on every sort of foolish extravagance -and dissipation,--and her want of natural care and affection for the -one child which she gave him,--a promising boy on whom he lavished -what infinitesimal vestiges of love still remained in his rapidly -fossilizing moral composition. He thought of all the anxiety and -cost which the education of this, his sole heir, had entailed upon -him,--anxiety which was futile, and cost which was wasted. For Death -cannot be bribed off by bullion. Typhoid fever in its most virulent -form had snatched away the boy when he was barely eleven years old, -and though the piles of gold still continued to accumulate and ever -accumulate with the workings of the great McNason firm, there was no -one to inherit the monster millions that came to birth with every fresh -turn of the business wheel. And with his disappointment, Josiah had -adopted an opposition front towards Deity. The “ways of Providence” -were to him subject for the bitterest acrimony; and though, as has -been said, he went to Church regularly on Sundays, and was, indeed, -exceptionally careful to make a public show of himself as a man -vitally interested in all Church matters, his action in this regard -may be truly represented as having been taken on the foundations of -unbelief and godless mockery. It tickled his particular vein of humour -to think that all the people in the parish where he had his country -seat thought him a really religious man. It had been so easy to get -this reputation! A few subscriptions to the rector’s pet charities; -occasional assistance in taking round the collection-plate on Sundays; -and a solemn demeanour during the sermon, had done it. But beneath -that solemn demeanour what acrid depths of diabolical atheism lurked, -only the diabolical agencies knew! He had worked his way through the -world by a judicious use of the world’s follies, obstinacies and -credulities,--he had over-reached his neighbours by making capital out -of their confidences,--and now, as much as concerned the world’s chief -god, Cash, he was at the top of the tree. True, he was getting on for -seventy, but in these days when “the microbe of old age” is on the -point of being discovered and exterminated, that was nothing. And the -toiling engine of his brain having shunted its way thus far into the -Long-Ago on a side line of its own, now came rushing swiftly back again -into the present brilliant terminus of Wealth and Power which he had so -successfully attained. And again the idea of a Peerage commended itself -to him. - -“It could easily be managed--quite easily!” he mused; “And -then--perhaps--I might marry again--and marry well! Some young woman -of aristocratic birth and high connections, who wants money. There are -scores of them to be had for the asking!” - -Just then the clock on the mantelpiece struck a sharp ting!-ting!-ting! -Josiah glanced at its enamelled dial and saw that it had chimed the -quarter-past eleven. The fire was burning beautifully bright and -clear,--and the warmth thrown out by the glowing coals was grateful -to his shrunken legs, loosely cased in their too ample trousers. He -decided that he would wait a little while longer before retiring to -rest. Stretching out one hand he touched the button of an electric bell -within his reach. Almost instantaneously his major-domo, the majestic -Towler, appeared. - -“Towler!” - -“Yessir!” - -“I shall want nothing more to-night. You can go to bed.” - -“Very good, sir!” - -“Wake me at seven to-morrow morning.” - -“Yessir! To-morrow’s Christmas Day, sir.” - -“Well, what’s that to me?” - -“Beg pardon, sir! Thought you might like to sleep a little later, sir.” - -Josiah gazed at him grimly. - -“Sleep a little later! What do you take me for, eh? D’ye think I’m such -a fool and sluggard as to want to stay in bed longer on Christmas Day -than on any other day? You ought to know me better than that! I have -plenty of work to do just the same, Christmas Day or no Christmas Day, -and I mean to do it!” - -“Certainly, sir. Yessir. Seven o’clock, sir!” - -“Seven o’clock, sharp!” And McNason’s thin lips closed upon the word -“sharp” like the lid of a spring matchbox. - -Thereupon Towler backed deferentially towards the door. - -“Good-night, sir. Merry Christmas, sir!” - -And with this salutation,--which, offered to a person so distinctly -removed from merriment as was his master, seemed almost a satire,--he -disappeared. - -McNason, uttering a sound between a grunt and a curse, poked the fire -again viciously, and flung on two logs from a wood-basket beside -him,--chumpy resinous logs which began to splutter and crackle directly -the heat touched them, and soon started flaring flames up the chimney -with quite a lurid torchlight glow. The storm outside had increased -in fury,--and hailstones were now mingled with the rain which dashed -threateningly against the windows with every wild circling rush of the -wind. - -“Glad I’m not going to a Christmas Eve party!” thought Josiah, as he -listened to the hurrying roar of the gale--“A great many young fools -will probably catch their deaths of cold to-night,--a wise dispensation -of Nature for getting rid of surplus population!” - -He stretched each end of his mouth as far as it would go, -and showed his crooked yellow teeth to the fire, this effort -being his way of laughing. The clock struck half-past -eleven,--and scarcely had its final chime died away on -the air when another and unexpected sound startled him. -Ring-ting-ting-ting!--ting-ring-ting-ting-ting!--Ring-ting-TING-TING! - -“Someone at the telephone!” he said, getting out of his comfortable -chair, and hurrying to that doubtfully useful modern instrument, which, -if once fixed in a private house puts the owner of it at the disposal -of all his friends and business acquaintances who may be inclined to -“call him up” on the most trivial excuses for wasting his time--“Who -wants me at this hour, I wonder!” - -He soon had his ear to the receiver, and a small, shrill and quite -unfamiliar voice came sharply across the wire. - -“Hello!” - -“Hello!” he rejoined. - -“Hell-oh! McNason! Are you there?” - -“Yes. I’m here. Who are you?” - -“That’s telling!” And the shrill piping accents broke into fragments of -falsetto laughter that ran vibratingly into McNason’s ear and gave him -cold shivers down his back--“Are you at home?” - -“Of course I am! Going to bed.” - -“Oh! Don’t go to bed! Hell-oh! McNason, don’t go to bed! I want you!” - -“Want me? What for?” - -Again the broken laughter quavered along the wire in uncanny snatches. - -“On business! Very important! Government loan! No delay! Great chance -for you! Peerage! Christmas Eve! Don’t go to bed!” - -Josiah’s temper rose. He put his mouth to the transmitter and spoke -softly, deliberately and with concentrated viciousness. - -“You’re a humbug! You’re some fool playing with the telephone because -it’s Christmas Eve, and you don’t know what else to do with yourself! -Probably you’re drunk! I don’t know you, and I don’t want to know you. -Get off my private wire!” - -“Oh!” And then came a curious exclamation that sounded like “Hoo-roo!” -“Don’t say you don’t want to know me! You’ve got to know me! I’m coming -to you now! Be with you directly!” - -Josiah began to feel desperate. - -“Hello!” he called. - -“Hell-oh!” was the prompt response. - -“What’s your name?” - -“Tell you when I see you! Hand you my card!” - -“Hello! Can you hear what I say?” - -“As plain as a penny whistle!” - -“Well then, whoever you are, please understand that it’s no use your -coming all the way here to see me to-night. It’s too late! This place -is twenty miles from town and there are no trains. The house is shut -up, and I’m going to bed. Your business must wait till to-morrow!” - -“To-morrow is Christmas Day!” replied the shrill voice; “To-morrow -will be here in half-an-hour! But I shall be with you before then! My -business won’t wait! It can’t! Don’t worry about getting supper for -me,--I never take any! Ta!” - -Utterly mystified, McNason fell back from the telephone affected by -that strange and disagreeable sensation commonly called “nerves.” He -was not, constitutionally, a nervous man,--his mental and moral fibres -were exceptionally tough and sinewy, and though he was distinctly -snarley and irritable on the rare occasions when he could not -altogether get his own way, his temperament was neither “highly strung” -nor over-sensitive. Nevertheless, he was just now conscious of a vague -uneasiness,--the sort of physical discomfort which usually precedes a -severe chill. - -“I’ve caught cold in the motor,--that’s what it is,”--he said, with -a slight shudder, “Such a beastly night as this is enough to freeze -a man’s blood! And I’m not so young as I was”--here the ugly frown -deepened on his brow--“not so young--no!--but young enough--young -enough! I’ll get into the blankets as quickly as possible.” He glanced -furtively at the telephone. “Some impudent idiot has been tampering -with my wire, that’s pretty certain! I’ll find out who it is to-morrow! -And I’ll make him pay for his fooling!” - -He turned his eyes towards the fire. It was brighter than ever. -Slowly returning to the deep easy chair placed so cosily opposite the -sparkling flames, he sat down again. - -“I’ll get myself thoroughly warmed through before going to bed,”--he -decided, spreading out his hands to the red glow--“I’m actually -shivering! There must be snow in the air as well as rain!” - -His teeth chattered, and though the blaze from the fire was already -so strong and vivid, he used the poker again to break asunder a -half-consumed lump of coal, which on being split emitted a leaping -tongue of gaseous blue flame. - -“That’s better!” he remarked approvingly, half aloud, “That looks -cheerful!” - -“So it does!” said a shrill voice at his ear,--the same voice precisely -that had just called to him along his “private wire”--“Quite cheerful! -And Christmassy! As cheerful and Christmassy as yourself, McNason!” - -With a violent start Josiah looked sharply round--and looking, -uttered an involuntary cry of terror. On the cushioned arm of his -elbow-chair sat, or rather squatted, an Object--a Creature--a kind -of nondescript semi-human thing such as drunkards might possibly see -in delirious dreams. It was small as regarded its Head, but large as -regarded its Paunch. It had tiny legs, thin as a chicken’s wish-bone. -It had long spidery arms with which it reached down and embraced -its turned-up toes. At a first glance it appeared to have a smooth -doll-like countenance, but with the least movement such a variety of -odd expressions came into play as to make each feature seem a different -face. Its eyes were large, and abnormally brilliant. Its hair, jet -black and very oily, was rolled back from its narrow brows in the -“all-round frame” style of the present-day coiffeur’s art, while on -the top of this inverted nest, or soup plate, it wore a conical red -cap adorned at the extreme point with a glittering fiery tassel. Its -attire--or rather that part of its body which seemed to be clothed--was -red; its attenuated arms and legs were naked, yellow, and extremely -hairy. It was more like an unpleasantly huge spider with a human head -than anything else, and though small enough to curl itself up on the -arm of an easy chair, it was yet large enough to create fear and -repulsion in the mind of even so important and powerful a personage as -a multi-millionaire. Josiah McNason was distinctly afraid of it. And -that he was so, is no discredit to him. He had never seen anything like -it before. And he had no particular wish to see anything like it again. -Yet he could not take his eyes off it. Its eyes were fixed on him -with equal pertinacity. With a mighty effort at rallying his wits he -stealthily sought for the poker,--if he could get hold of that useful -instrument with his right hand, he thought, and give that queer Shape -squatting so close at his left a heavy WHACK!--why then it would surely -break to pieces,--crumble--smash--disappear--! - -“Cheerful and Christmassy like yourself, McNason!” repeated the -Creature, at this juncture--“Don’t try hitting me with the poker, -that’s a good fellow! You’ll hurt yourself if you do!--you really -will! A blow on this”--and it touched its protuberant Paunch -significantly--“would send you,--not ME!--into the middle of -Next-World’s week! And you’re not ready for Next-World’s Week yet, -McNason! There are a few little business matters concerning it which -you don’t quite understand! Live and learn, you know! And how _are_ -you? You’re looking a bit lantern-jawed,--not very well preserved! I’ve -seen finer men than you at your age!” - -A cold perspiration broke out all over Josiah’s body as he found -himself mysteriously compelled to meet the dreadfully glittering round -eyes of the uncanny Object that discoursed with him thus familiarly. -Faintly he managed to stammer forth-- - -“Who the ---- are you?” - -“You were going to say ‘Who the Devil are you’--and why didn’t -you?”--retorted the Creature, rapidly untwisting one hairy arm from -the embrace of one hairy leg and diving into its red body-covering, -from which it produced a small card on which certain letters danced -and flickered like tiny dots of flame--“Who the Devil am I? Here, the -Devil, is my card! Promised you, the Devil, I would hand it to you, and -so, the Devil, I do! Name’s quite easy, you’ll find!” - -With shaking fingers McNason gingerly accepted the card held out to him -by the unpleasant looking claw which served his visitor for a hand, and -with great difficulty, owing to the constant jumping up and down of -the inscribed characters, read: - - PROFESSOR GOBLIN, - Hell’s United Empire Club. - -McNason’s fingers shook more violently than ever, and he hastily -dropped the card, which as it fell, curled up like a firework bag in a -Christmas cracker, emitted a clear blue spark of light, and vanished -into space. - -“The title of ‘Professor’ isn’t really mine,”--explained the Creature, -blinking at him with its owl-like orbs--“I took it.” - -Sinking back in his chair, Josiah covered his eyes with one hand -and groaned. He must be very ill, he thought!--he must be sickening -for some fatal malady! His brain was going!--and this terrible -visitation--this hallucination of his senses, was the sign and effect -of a mental disorder which had come on suddenly and was rapidly growing -worse! How long--how long would it last! - -“Lots of fellows do it,”--observed the Goblin, after a brief pause. - -Some compelling influence forced the panic-stricken millionaire to -speak--to reply--in fact to keep up conversation, whether he liked it -or not. - -“Lots of fellows do what?” he murmured feebly, still holding one hand -over his eyes. - -“Call themselves Professors when they’re not,”--said the Goblin. - -Here ensued a moment’s intense stillness. Even the noise of the -storm outside had, for that short interval ceased,--the fire burned -silently,--and not a breath stirred the air. Only the glowing tassel on -“Professor” Goblin’s cap waved to and fro as though moved by an unfelt -wind. - -“When I rang you up on the telephone just now,”--resumed the Goblin-- - -But at this McNason jumped in his chair and uncovered his eyes. - -“_You_ rang me up?--you--you--!” he stammered. - -“Yes--I! Who did you think it was, eh? Your ‘private wire’? Oh, -Beelzebub! Nothing’s ‘private’ to me! I should ring up the Prime -Minister out of his bed if I happened to want him!” - -McNason felt the muscles of his back stiffening in horror. - -“You would?--you would----?” - -“Certainly! I often use telephones! Capital things! They have to do -with the currents of the air, you know!--and other folks work on -currents of the air besides Humans! Humans aren’t the only people -in the universe! Don’t look so scared, McNason!--I won’t hurt you! -As I remarked before, when I rang you up just now, I wondered what -title I should take to ingratiate myself with you. You like titles, -I know!--you’ve been thinking of a Peerage for yourself--quite right -too! Get all you can, McNason!--get all you can that money will -buy! But as I never deal in Honours now, I couldn’t pass myself off -as a Duke or an Earl. The man that sells these things is more in -your line than mine. And I gave up brewing beer and running ‘party’ -newspapers long ago, so I could hardly be a Lord. Besides Lords are -getting so common--frightfully common, McNason! In fact Lords are -becoming Commons! Oh, Beelzebub! Excuse the joke! And as for being a -‘Sir’--oh, hoo-roo, hoo-roo!” And the Goblin, untwisting itself, beat -its large paunch slowly in the fashion of a drum, evoking a dreary -hollow sound which almost made McNason cry--“Only a provincial Mayor -would accept it nowadays! I half thought I’d say I was a Colonel or -a General,--but then you’d have taken me for an American,--and I -wouldn’t be an American Bounder for twenty Next-Worlds! Then I decided -I would be ‘Professor.’ ‘Professor’ struck me as being quite the proper -thing;--nice-sounding, wise and imposing!--and anyone can call himself -a Professor--even a palmist who robs poor silly dupes of money for -telling their fortunes which neither he nor anybody knows! Hoo-roo! -Hoo-roo! What humbugs there are in the world, McNason! _You_ know that! -You’re one!” - -“I’m not!” said Josiah, indignantly, aroused to sudden defiance. “How -dare you say I am!” - -“How dare I!--How dare I!” crooned the Goblin, clasping its legs again -and rocking itself to and fro--“Oh, Beelzebub! How high and mighty we -are! I dare do anything, McNason! Anything! I’ll skin your soul!” - -Josiah gave a smothered cry of terror. Such eyes as were now bent upon -him were like nothing in the world except railway signal lamps with the -light in them very much intensified and enlarged. - -“I’ll skin your soul!” repeated the Goblin, severely--“And you won’t -like the process. Do you know what the process is called, McNason? No? -Then I’ll tell you! It’s a blistering, flaying, scorching, boiling, -steaming, tearing, crunching, blasting, stripping--(don’t groan like -that, McNason!)--stabbing, cutting, piercing process called Truth! It -will rip off all the lies in which you are so comfortably wadded, as -lightning rips off the bark from a tree! And it will show you to be -exactly what I say--a Humbug! A pious Fraud, McNason! A rich man who -does no good with his money! A hard man who grinds down poor lives into -ill-gotten gold! A cruel, avaricious, grasping, selfish man! And yet -you go to Church every Sunday and pretend that you’re a Christian! Oh, -hoo-roo! Uncharitable, mean, narrow-minded and hypocritical, you are -anything but a good man, McNason!--and I’ve come to tell you so!” - -Gathering up his courage under this volley of abuse McNason turned -round in his chair and deliberately faced his accuser. - -“You’re a Bad Dream!” he said slowly--“You’re the result of Cold -and Indigestion! You’re--you’re Nothing! But if you were Anything, -I should tell you you are an impudent scoundrel and liar! I should -tell you to get out of this room before you are kicked out! But you -are only an Illusion!--a horrible, horrible Fancy!--and--and you’ll -Go!--presently!--in a little while--when I am better--when my brain -recovers itself----” - -Here he broke off, appalled at the indescribably hideous grimace with -which his unpleasant companion favoured him. - -“Your brain!” echoed the Goblin. “_Your_ brain indeed! Pooh! When you -are better! Hoo-roo! You never will be better--never--not unless _I_ -doctor you! I must sk--k----” - -“No, no!” cried Josiah, seized by a paroxysm of fear--“Don’t skin me! -Anything but that! Don’t,”--and his teeth clattered together--“don’t -ski--i--in me!” - -“Professor” Goblin relaxed its writhing features and smoothed them into -a kind of wise impassibility such as is seen on the physiognomy of a -Chinese idol. - -“Now answer me, McNason,” it said, impressively--“Do you mean to say -that you consider yourself a good man?” - -Josiah looked at his inquisitor with one eye askew. - -“As good as any man,”--he muttered--“And better than most!” - -“Oh, hoo-roo!” and the dismal cry was like a hundred owls hooting -in chorus--“Hoo-roo!--hoo-roo! How these conceited mortals deceive -themselves!” Here it patted its paunch echoingly. “As good as any man, -are you, McNason?--and better than most! Now what have you done in -order to get such a very excellent opinion of yourself, eh?” - -McNason hesitated. Then the recollection of his vast wealth, and of his -wide-reaching business influence flashed across his mind and filled -him with a sudden spirit of self-assertiveness. - -“I’ve done a good deal in my time,”--he said, boldly--“For one thing, -I’ve made my own way in the world!” - -“Ah! And without assistance?” queried the Goblin--“Without trampling -any poor person down? Without ‘sweating’ labour? Without cheating -anybody less ‘sharp’ than yourself?” - -McNason was silent. - -“You _haven’t_ made your own way in the world!”--went on the Goblin -relentlessly--“The men who have worked for you have made it! And you’ve -screwed their lives down, McNason!--screwed them down hard and fast to -pittance wages in order to wrest every penny you could for yourself -out of their labour! And you’ve made a pile of money! Too big a pile -by far, McNason! No man in the world makes such a pile without having -wronged his fellow-men in some way or other! He has tried to tip the -balance of justice falsely--but there’s one thing about that balance, -McNason--it always rights itself! When a man is too rich--when a man -has gotten his money through close-fistedness, harshness and avarice, -then WE come in! We of Hell’s United Empire Club! We give a bloated -millionaire fits, I can tell you! When he has got enough gold to gorge -himself with expensive food and wine every day in the week if he -likes, we take away his digestion! That’s capital fun! We take away -his digestion, and the doctors come and limit him to milk and soda! -Oh, hoo-roo!” And the Goblin doubled itself up in a writhing tangle of -delight,--“And when he marries for Money _only_ and gets an heir to -Money _only_, we take away the heir! And then by and bye he finds he -can neither eat nor sleep, and that his Money isn’t such a valuable -commodity as he thought it was, not even though it _can_ buy a Peerage! -And when he is harsh and unkind and uncharitable, we sk--k--in his -soul!” - -“I’m _not_ uncharitable!” cried Josiah, goaded almost to frenzy by -the darting menace of the terrible eyes that glared fixedly into his -own--“Not even YOU can say that! I’ve given hundreds and hundreds of -pounds away in charity----” - -“On subscription lists--yes! I know you have!” and “Professor” Goblin -nodded sagaciously--“I’ve seen your name writ large along with the -names of a lot of other bounders who want the world to see how much -they’ve given to a hospital! But that’s not charity!” - -“Not charity!” echoed Josiah. “Then what is charity?” - -“Shall I tell you?” said the Goblin. “You’ve heard, but you’ve -forgotten!” And it repeated in a low, almost gentle voice--“‘Charity -suffereth long and is kind, charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not -itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh -not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not -in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth -all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.’ That’s as unlike -_your_ charity, McNason, as Heaven is unlike Hell!” - -“Any devil can quote Scripture!” said McNason, contemptuously--“I hear -all that in Church!” - -“You hear, but you don’t listen,”--said the Goblin--“You go to Church -every Sunday?” - -“I do! My clergyman relies very much on my assistance.” - -“Does he now?” and the Goblin put its head questioningly on one -side--“Financial assistance, of course?” - -McNason gave a short laugh. - -“That’s the only kind of assistance he ever asks for!” - -“Good man!” said the Goblin, thoughtfully--“And you help him?” - -“Very considerably.” Here McNason drew himself up stiffly with an air -of importance--“I’m a Churchwarden.” - -At this “Professor” Goblin uttered a frightful yell. - -“Hoo-roo, hoo-roo, HOO-ROO!” it cried, “The dear old days! The sweet -familiar word!” And springing suddenly into the air, it turned a rapid -somersault and came gravely squatting down again--“Oh, Beelzebub, -McNason! I was once a Churchwarden!” - -Josiah trembled in every limb, and his tongue clove to the roof of -his mouth in sheer panic. The alarming abruptness of his unwelcome -visitor’s movements almost paralysed him with terror. Somehow he had -thought the Creature might be a kind of fixture to the arm of his -chair,--an hallucination of his eye and brain which was likely perhaps -to stay in one position,--but its eldritch screech and somersault upset -his logic altogether and turned him sick and dizzy. - -“I was once a Churchwarden!” said the Goblin, beginning to emit a -spluttering laugh from a grimacing mouth--“Oh, hoo-roo! And I looked -_so_ respectable! Tell me, McNason!--do you wear a top-hat on Sundays?” - -The shuddering millionaire bent his head feebly in assent. - -“So did I! So did I!” And the Goblin clasped its toes and hugged itself -in a kind of ecstasy--“And a black frock-coat! So nicely brushed! So -well-fitting! I had a figure in those days, McNason! And I walked into -Church with brightly polished boots, creaking just a little to show -they weren’t paid for--because it isn’t ‘gentlemanly’ to pay for what -you wear right down on the nail, you know!--and I bent my back before -all the people and breathed good little prayers into the crown of my -top-hat, just where I could see the name of the hatter printed in gold -on the silk lining! I did! Oh, they were happy days! Happy humbug -days! Gone, gone, gone! I shall never be a Churchwarden any more!” - -Here, unravelling its contorted body, it put its clawlike hands up to -its face and began to weep. - -“Oh, hoo-roo!” it blubbered--“When I was a Churchwarden people were -all so respectful to me! I had a country seat--such as you have, -McNason!--and a whole parish bowed down to me! Think of that! Farmers -doffed their caps, and farmers’ wives curtsied to me! The clergyman -spoke of me as his ‘high-minded and generous neighbour!’ Oh, hoo-roo! I -was so proud of myself!--as proud as a Scotch landlord!--and nothing’s -prouder than that! Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo! Those happy humbug days! I gave -myself such airs!--such touch-me-not airs, McNason! I might have been -an up-to-date Highland chief in a kilt, my airs were so superior! You -know what an up-to-date Highland chief is, McNason?--a man who lets -his ‘dear native home,’ and his ‘beloved’ moors and forests for all he -can get, and lives a gay life in London on the profits! A proud and -pompous creature, McNason!--and I was just such a one! I was really! -Talk of patriotism and love of country! I had it all!--I was as -parochial as a town clerk! I had such a grand manner!--so stand-offish! -And now--and now----” Here it beat a dreary tattoo on its expressive -Paunch--“Oh, hoo-roo!--I shall never be a Churchwarden any more!” - -A clammy perspiration bedewed Josiah’s brow. That hollow drumming sound -was dreadful!--if the horrible Creature would only stop it!---- - -“Don’t do that!”--he muttered, feebly, “I--I can’t bear it!” - -“Can’t bear what?” demanded the Goblin, quite briskly. - -“That sound you make on--on----” - -“On my Tum-Tum? Oh, Beelzebub! You oughtn’t to mind that! Tum-Tums are -what all you men live for nowadays! One of your dramatists has made a -play out of a Tum-Tum. Poor old Shakespeare! He was never as clever as -that! I always lived for my Tum-Tum--and of course it’s now the largest -part of me. I have to tell it everything,--and when I beat it, it knows -what I mean!” - -Josiah huddled himself back into the depths of his easy chair and -closed his eyes,--if he could only swoon away, he thought!--if he could -but lose his sight and hearing in a merciful unconsciousness!-- - -A low snarling murmur, breathing through the casements, under the door, -and down the chimney, now gave warning of the fresh and fiercer rising -of the wind, and presently down it swooped with a terrific battery of -hail, and such a scream and uproar of rage as is seldom heard save -in tropical forests, when huge trees fall crashing under the blow of -a storm, and torrents hurl themselves headlong from the summits of -the mountains sweeping tons of granite with them like straws into -the valley below. At that instant the clock began striking Midnight. -One!--Two!--Three!--Four!--Five!--and to McNason’s horror the Goblin -suddenly sprang upright. If it had looked uncanny before, it looked a -thousand times more uncanny now. Poised on the arm of the chair its -lean toes and legs began to stretch,--its body to lengthen,--taller -and taller it grew, its Paunch showing as prominently and roundly -as a full moon on a winter’s night,--its head with its oily hair, -conical cap and tassel seemed to be rising steadily into the ceiling, -and Josiah, clenching his hands convulsively, watched the process in -fearful fascination,--was this the way the awful hallucination would -vanish? Was it going?--would the horrible Nightmare elongate itself -gradually into fine lines, and, mingling with the atmosphere, disappear -altogether? - -Six!--Seven!--Eight! The gale rampaged violently outside and shrieked -like a drunken fury, battering at the casements as though meaning to -break them in. Nine!--Ten!--Eleven!--and lo!--the Goblin all at once -pounced down from the height to which it had ascended, and laid its -detestable claw on the shuddering McNason’s shirt-front! Twelve! With -a wild whistling yell, the storm burst open the long latticed windows -at last, throwing them back with a savage BANG!--blowing aside the -splendid damask curtains as though they were rags, and admitting a -gust of bitter cold sleet and snow, while clear on the rushing blast -came the sound of bells! Ding--dong!--ding!--dong! Do re mi--FA!--Sol -la--si--DO! The rhythmic beat and liquid warble of rich tones melted -into the wind and rain like a kind familiar voice arguing with angry -children,--but Josiah McNason, half dead with fear at the sight of the -hairy claw on his shirt-front and the knowledge that the red moon-like -Paunch of the Goblin was almost touching his own shrunken one, heard -nothing save the howling of the furious gale, and wondered how long -this inexplicable torture of his body and brain would last! - -“Christmas Day!” cried the Goblin,--“It’s Christmas Day, McNason! -Hark to the bells! How they swing! How they ring! Come to church, -McNason! It’s time! Come along!” And the round eyes glowed like balls -of flame--“Come to Church! Come and sing ‘While Shepherds!’ You’re a -Churchwarden, you know! Come along--come!” - -“Not now--not now!” gasped the terrified Josiah, seeing that the Goblin -was spreading out its long lean arms as though to envelop him in its -embrace--“It’s not time!--it’s the middle of the night!----” - -“No, no!--it’s Christmas Day!” reiterated the Goblin; “Come to Church, -McNason! Come and hear my friend the Reverend Mr. Firebrand hold forth -on the vanity of riches! Come in the spirit of One Timothy Two! That’s -a text! ‘Grace, mercy, peace!’ Come along, McNason! All are welcome -where _we_ are going! Hark! How the bells ring! One Timothy Two! One -Timothy Two! Come and ‘sit under’ good Mr. Firebrand! Come!--come!” - -And with a terrible downward clutch, the Goblin caught hold of McNason -by the coat-collar. - -“Mercy----mercy!” cried the wretched man--“Help!--Help!” - -“Help!--help!” shouted the Goblin, derisively--“One Timothy Two! Come -along, McNason! Come along!” - -Catching up Josiah as easily as though he were a wooden mannikin, the -Goblin unfurled a pair of bat-like wings and rose aloft in air. - -“Here we go!” it yelled--“Up we go, and down we go! Off to Church! -ME and the Churchwarden! Oh, hoo-roo, hoo-roo! Christmas Day and -Christmas Bells, and a jolly Christmas altogether! One Timothy Two! Off -we go!” - -And with the rush and roar of the wind, the Goblin carrying the -world-renowned millionaire as a bird of prey might carry a rabbit or a -weasel, soared out on a wave of mingled sleet and snow into the stormy -night! - - * * * * * - -What happened to him in that wild supernatural scurry through the air -Josiah McNason never knew. He lived and was conscious,--conscious of -being borne along at a furious rate not knowing whither,--conscious -of the freezing cold,--the rain, the wind, that tossed him and his -unearthly companion about like dead leaves on its angry breath -with a “Hoo-roo!” louder than the cry peculiar to the Goblin -itself,--conscious above all of the bells! O the Bells! How they -trilled and trolled out their Christmas melody!--how they seemed -to tumble one over the other in their haste to proclaim “Peace and -Goodwill!”--how their metal throats palpitated and throbbed with -the angelic message!--angelic still,--angelic always!--even though -some mortals nowadays are so miserably-minded as to doubt its truth -and sweetness! The Bells rang everywhere!--loudly to the scudding -clouds,--softly to the darkened earth,--whisperingly among the chill -showers of sleet and snow, and with an echoing clang like musical -thunder above and around the shadowy drifting form of the Goblin as -it flew along, gripping the quivering Josiah as a cat might grip a -mouse, or an eagle a new-born lamb. All at once the rattle and rush -of the warring elements rolled off in a pause of quietude, letting -the Bells have it all their own way,--and--suddenly descending with -lightning-like rapidity by sheer force of the Goblin’s imperative -downward pressure, Josiah found himself standing on his feet in the -middle of a vast building which looked like a Church, though there was -no sacred emblem of religion to be seen anywhere in it save the Pulpit. -The Pulpit stood out with singular obtrusiveness, for it was green,--a -livid, wicked green like the glare of a serpent’s eye. Panels of white -appeared to be inserted round it, but these could not be plainly -discerned, at once. The green hue was its chief note of attraction, and -McNason’s eyes fastened themselves upon this with a pertinacity surely -inspired by some other influence than his own. Breathless, shivering -and exhausted as he was, there was something about that Green Pulpit -which, wholly against his will, compelled his attention,--and as he -looked, he heard a sudden confused murmur of voices which, beginning -softly at first, grew louder and louder till it rose into a perfect -pandemonium of howling! The unhappy millionaire trembled. What new -and nameless horror was there yet in store for him? Involuntarily he -turned to look for the Goblin,--even _that_ uncanny Presence seemed -kinder and more friendly than such a dreadful uproar of unknown -tongues! And he was actually glad to see it still standing beside him, -its round eyes sparkling with a strange light of mingled mirth and -malice. - -“Well, McNason, how do you feel after your airship voyage?” it -inquired--“A bit air-sick?” - -Here the howling voices grew fiercer and more shrill,--and yet the -alarmed Josiah could see nothing. He felt desperately inclined to take -hold of the Goblin’s claw for protection. - -“What--what’s that?” he stammered. - -“Only Church!” replied the Goblin--“Firebrand is a strong preacher! -He ‘draws’ like a magnet--or a dentist. There’s always a crowded -congregation to hear him.” - -Church!--a strong preacher!--a crowded congregation! McNason stared -and stared, seeing nothing but the Green Pulpit and empty space, till -all at once the Goblin took off its conical cap and with the tasselled -point of that headgear touched his eyes. Then--then--oh, then! But who -can describe that “then”! Who in mere words can picture the amazing -scene disclosed of which he, Josiah McNason, was a part, and to which -he seemed to be the only human witness! All round him, in front of him -and behind him were Goblins,--Goblins big, Goblins little, Goblins -fat, Goblins lean, Goblins straight, Goblins crooked--Goblins of every -imaginable size and shape--Goblins of every possible distortion or -monstrosity that ever appeared on the pages of a child’s fairy book, -were here in their scores, and all attired in the queerest motley. -Some wore women’s enormous hats trimmed with fantastic bows of ribbon -and big waggling plumes,--others had coloured caps like those which -are put into very cheap Christmas crackers,--some were decked out -with flashy tiaras and crowns that looked as if they were cut out of -tin-foil,--others again had their strange sticky hair dressed as high -as surely an hair, sticky or otherwise, could go, and surmounted with -fantastic wreaths and garlands of bright coloured flowers apparently -made of paper, under which they minced and grinned like female -gymnasts at a rough country fair,--and all of them were jostling, -pushing, squeezing, and crowding together, each one taking a seemingly -mischievous delight in trying to elbow its neighbour out of place. It -was a fearsome sight!--and still more fearsome did it become when a -great ball of fire suddenly bounced down from Nowhere and burst with -a loud report at the foot of the Green Pulpit, where, spreading out a -peacock’s tail of vivid flame, it lit up the wicked livid colour of -that edifice with blinding brilliancy. Josiah McNason’s soul froze -within him. He was dead, he thought!--he must be dead! - -In a swooning access of speechless terror he clung to the Goblin, and -was in a vague way comforted when it tucked its hairy arm through his -and leered at him quite amicably. - -“Don’t be nervous, McNason!” it said, “It’s all right! Firebrand always -likes the electricity turned on when he preaches! He’s the ‘star’ actor -of the piece, you see,--the light must show him up more than anyone -else. There he is!” - -Josiah gazed at the Green Pulpit in quaking awe and aversion as a -black figure suddenly sprang up in it like a jack-in-the-box,--a tall, -lanky, clothes-prop sort of shape, with a head like a large mop, from -which the hair, of a fiery red, hung down in disordered tangles. -This Goblin’s best feature consisted in its attire, which was of a -double-dyed inkiness, with a wonderfully smooth and silky ‘shine’ upon -it, suggestive of black-lead. It was an unfortunate costume, however, -so far as concerned its becomingness to the face of its wearer,--a -face white as a bleached bone, with prominent eyes which appeared -to goggle out of their cavernous sockets like pebbles rolling each -on the edge of a hole,--and the sable clothing of the creature only -intensified the awful pallor of its countenance, and brought out its -worst points into the strongest possible relief. McNason had barely -time to notice these details, which seemed to be insistently forced -upon his attention, when his ears were again assailed by renewed -howling and screeching, accompanied by a tremendous sound of drums, as -if all the drummers that were ever born were drumming their way through -the world. Every Goblin had a protuberant paunch,--and as “the Reverend -Mr. Firebrand” arose in the pulpit they all started together beating -a prolonged tattoo upon these appendages to their otherwise skeleton -forms. And ever over the frightful noise rang the Bells!--always the -Bells!--the Bells of Christmas,--the Bells of peace and goodwill! -Do, re, mi, FA!--Sol, la, si--DO! Ding-dong!--ding-dong! Swinging and -swaying, the echoes rose and fell--and in the midst of the pulsating -chimes, the Goblins burst into a chorus of wild shouting-- - -“Firebrand!--Ha ha!” - -“Good old Firebrand!” - -“Order, order! Silence for Firebrand!” - -“Ha-ha, HA! Ha-HA!” - -“Firebrand! Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo!” - -And then--as though they had been all clashed together by one -stroke into silence--the Bells ceased. The shouting and laughter -and Paunch-drumming of the Goblins likewise eddied away into a dull -murmur--and the Goblin in the Green Pulpit raised a skeleton hand with -the first-finger-bone elevated as a signal for attention. - -“My friends!” it began--“My dear brethren----!” - -“Ha-HA! Ha-ha-HA!” - -And the crowd of uncanny creatures twisted and writhed with ecstasy, -tossing their queerly decorated heads about, and spreading their wide -mouths into elastic grins which seemed to swallow up all the rest of -their faces. As if in sympathy with the general hilarity, the “Reverend -Mr. Firebrand” grinned also--a peculiar and very ghastly grin indeed. - -“My friends!” he or It resumed--“How good it is for us all to be here! -What a sign of regeneration----!” - -“Ha-ha-HA!” - -“Of penitence----” - -“Ha-ha!” - -“Of unselfishness and charity----” - -“Ha-ha-ha!” - -“Of hope for the future----” - -“Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo!” - -“Of everything beautiful, pleasant, and truthful! Oh, how good it is -to know that we are thus assembled together, and that we have among us -a Human Creature, unlike, yet so like ourselves! Oh, my dear friends! -‘Lest we forget,’ let us remember that we were all Humans once! All -Humans!--all Humbugs!--and such respectable Humbugs too! Oh, my -friends, let us turn our thoughts back along the tide of Time--the tide -of Time is such a fine expression!--and reflect on those days--the days -of frock-coats and top-hats! The days when we were GOOD!” - -“Ha-ha-HA! Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo!” - -Screams of laughter echoed through the dim space, where now, faintly -discernible through a floating red vapour, the trembling Josiah caught -sight of the glittering tubes of a great organ, and scarcely had he -seen this when CRASH!--went the keys with a droning and discordant -thunder. A hideous black scarecrow of a Goblin, waving its paws or -claws about fantastically, began performing on the instrument, whereat -all the impish congregation burst out yelling in chorus: - - “When WE were ‘good,’ in all the world - None were so ‘good’ as WE; - WE thought OURSELVES the only ones - Whose souls would savèd BE!-- - When WE were ‘good’ our neighbours all - We found so very BAD, - That only US, and only WE - Some little Morals HAD! - - “When WE were ‘good,’ we went to Church, - That every one might see - How ‘good’ we were,--much better far - Than other folks could be!-- - We slandered all our dearest friends, - Told all the lies we could, - And chose our own front seats in Heaven, - Because we were so ‘good’! - - “And now we find that other folks - Whom we thought very BAD, - Were better than OURSELVES at best, - And ALL the Morals HAD! - And sad to say, we’ve lived to learn, - That shuffle as we would, - No HUMBUG lasts in Heaven or Hell - Not even--‘BEING GOOD’!” - -Renewed yelping, and “hoo-roos” of diabolical laughter followed this -vocal effort, and the miserable Josiah McNason felt cold trickles of -perspiration running down his back as he listened. Yet he could not -speak. Speech for the moment was taken from him,--he tried to utter -some word--some ejaculation,--but his tongue was stiffened in his mouth -as though it were paralysed. And he was forced to pay close attention -to the “Reverend Mr. Firebrand” whether he liked it or not. - -“Oh my friends!” pursued that grim and ghastly preacher--“How I thank -you for that beautiful hymn! How sweetly it expresses our innermost -feelings! Does it not, my friends? Oh yes, indeed it does! And our -brother here--our Human brother--does it not express _his_ feelings -likewise? Yes--oh yes!--indeed it does!” - -“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-HA!” shrieked the Goblins--“Indeed it does! Ha-HA!” - -“Our Human brother,” went on “Mr. Firebrand”--“is a ‘good’ man----” - -“Hoo-oo! Hoo-roo!--Hoo--oo!” - -“A ‘good’ man because, my friends, he has made Money! Money is -Morals,--Morals are Money! Our Human brother is a rich man,--therefore -virtuous. Virtue, as you all know, consists in being rich,--Vice in -being poor. Our Human brother is also a wise man. Wisdom consists -in looking after Number One. He does that! He has always done it -admirably! Number One is to him the centre of the universe. And we -sympathise with him, do we not, my friends? Oh yes, oh yes, we do! -For we also, in former days--we also looked after Number One. Not One -Timothy Two! No--no! One Self One! That was our text in life. And we -acted up to it, did we not, my friends? Oh yes, we did--we did! We -should not be here now if we had not looked after Number One!” - -“Hoo-roo!--oh--oh--Hoo-roo!” - -And the wild cry had a dismal note in it this time like the shriek of -the wailing wind. - -“Again, my friends,”--went on the Goblin “Firebrand,”--“Our Human -brother is a charitable man. We all know what charity is, do we not? -Oh yes, we do! Charity begins at home! Charity never gives a penny -away unless it can get something for itself out of the bargain! -Charity never subscribes to anything unless it can see its name -printed on a subscription list! That’s Charity, my friends!--as WE -understand it--as our Human brother understands it! The Charity which -distinguished US when we,--like our Human brother,--wore frock-coats -and top-hats on Sundays, was a charity which suffered nothing and was -never kind,--envied everybody,--vaunted itself greatly,--was always -puffed up,--often behaved itself unseemly,--sought its own,--was easily -provoked,--thought evil of most things,--rejoiced in iniquity,--hated -the truth,--bore nothing,--believed nothing,--hoped nothing,--endured -nothing! This is the Charity of Human Nature--material Human -Nature!--and our Human brother is a glorious living example of it! -Soon--oh yes!--very soon!--our charitable Human brother will give -twenty thousand pounds to a hospital. How generous! How noble! The -poor and sick will benefit,--but our Human brother will not be left -out in the cold! Oh no! He will buy a Peerage with the money and also -with an additional ‘little diplomacy.’ And he will be a lord!--oh my -brethren, how great a thing it is to be a lord! Do we not know this? -Yes, indeed, indeed we do! Some of us have been lords, and some of us -have been commons. Both sets have their advantages. But when one is -a lord, one can do so much! One can become the ‘noble’ director of -bogus ‘Companies,’ and pocket a fee for attendance at every meeting! -And one can owe bills to one’s tailor for an indefinite period! And -one can sell one’s self and one’s ‘nobility’ to any American female -title-hunter who will pay sufficient cash down! Oh yes, my brethren, -it is a great thing to be a lord! And when our Human brother is a -lord, he will be so proud and glad that he won’t know himself! He is a -good man now, but when he becomes a peer, he will be a better one! Oh -yes, my friends!--the world and Human Nature generally will find him -better, wiser, more generous, more charitable, more everything that is -pleasant, beautiful, and truthful! Will it not be so? Yes, indeed it -will be so! We know it will be so, for we were all ‘good’ men! I myself -was a ‘good’ man--once!” - -“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-HA! Ha-ha-ha-ha!” - -And like twisting boughs of trees in a storm, the goblins swayed and -rocked themselves to and fro, convulsed with laughter. - -“I say I was a ‘good’ man!” repeated the demon preacher, leaning down -over the edge of the green pulpit, and rolling its goggle eyes at its -audience, particularly at the shuddering McNason--“Good in the sense -that you and I and our Human brother understand goodness! I wore a -top-hat----” - -“Ha-ha!” - -“_And_ a frock-coat----” - -“Ha-ha!” - -“And I went to Church every Sunday----” - -“Ha-ha-HA!” - -“I took round the collection-plate----” - -“Ha-ha!” - -“And I always put a sixpence into it myself--never less--never more!” - -“Ha-ha-ha! Ha-HA!” - -“When any poor man asked me to help him, and said he had a large family -to keep, I told him he shouldn’t have a large family----” - -“Ha-ha-ha!” - -“I never sacrificed my own comfort or convenience at any time on any -account, and I never parted with a penny I thought it better to keep! -I was a most respectable man!” - -“Hoo-roo-oo! Hoo-roo!” - -“Now, my friends, I will ask you in the spirit of One Timothy Two -to consider the interesting subject of my discourse,--our dear -Human brother! He, too, is most respectable! He is even more than -respectable, for he is a millionaire! And not only a millionaire, but a -multi-millionaire! He is all Money! Oh, my friends, how good it is to -be all Money! All Money and no Heart! Heart is never respectable--it is -always a scoundrel! Always trusting the wrong people, loving the worst -sinners, and making a fool of itself in business! Oh yes, my friends, -Heart is desperately wicked! But our dear Human brother has none of it. -Let us congratulate him! Especially at this time of year,--this dreary, -melancholy, grumbling-time--when all the world’s tiresome little -children want holiday treats, and all the tradesmen send in their -bills,--this wretched, stupid, depressing season when even WE are made -uncomfortable----” - -“Hoo-oo-oo! Hoo-roo!” - -And now the Goblins beat their paunches desperately and instead of -laughing, began to weep. One cadaverous-looking creature took off its -woman’s hat, large as an extra large lamp-shade, and shed tears into it -as though it were a bucket. - -“Ah--ee!--ah--ee!” it sobbed--“How I do hate the compliments of the -season! I always did! When I was a Human, I always had to tip my butler -and my coachman on what they called Boxing Day! They expected it,--the -Brutes! Ah--ee!--ah--ee! Such bitter, bitter memories!” - -Other wailings and groanings of a similar nature arose in chorus, -and even Josiah McNason’s own particular companion goblin moaned and -blubbered. - -“It _is_ a terrible time!” it whimpered--“A terrible, terrible time! -Everybody expects everybody else to give them something! Such a waste -and such an expense! Oh, hoo-roo!” - -Again Josiah essayed to speak,--but his tongue still refused to utter. - -“At this depressing period,” went on the ranting “Firebrand”--“When -stupid Humans wished each other to be ‘Merry’ without any cause for -merriment, it is a great joy to find so sensible and practical a person -as our dear, rich, wise friend Mr. Millionaire McNason among us! Yes, -my brethren, it is a great joy! For _he_ never wished anyone a ‘merry’ -or even a happy time in his life, and quite right too! He never wanted -to be ‘merry’ himself--never felt like it--never looked like it! He is -the master of a great Business and has no time for Sentiment. Sentiment -is an imbecile quality pertaining to girls, women and fools. And our -Human brother is not a fool! Oh dear no! He is living precisely -as he wishes to die;--he is making himself into one of US with all -possible speed! And how clever that is of him! His only regret is that -he will have no use for Money when he becomes a member of our United -Empire Club:--and that to be a lord will give him no extra privileges! -Otherwise, he is perfectly satisfied with Himself--just as we all used -to be perfectly satisfied with Ourselves! And are we not satisfied -with ourselves still? Oh yes, my brethren!--oh yes, we are satisfied, -because we are compelled to be satisfied! There is no getting out of -Our condition! We chose it, We made it, and here We are! And in the -spirit of One Timothy Two, we exhort our Human brother to continue in -the self righteous way he is going! We beseech him never to be ‘merry,’ -never to be kind! We implore him never to either lend or give money to -those in need, not even to an old and faithful servant! For old and -faithful servants are just as great humbugs as any other class of -persons! Moreover gifts are always resented, and kindnesses considered -as merely personal advertisements of generosity! Let our Human brother -always be as he is now, and so shall he reap the just reward of his -labours! The just reward!--the just reward----” - -Here the bells suddenly began again, pealing their chimes with a -delicious softness as though far, far away. - -“Soon, very soon,” continued the “Firebrand,” lifting both its skeleton -arms aloft from the enshrouding folds of its black draperies--“for our -Human brother the joys of money-making will be no more! Soon, very -soon, the demands upon his Purse will cease, and his weary eyes will -close for the last time upon the pleasant sun! Soon, very soon, he will -hear no more ‘compliments of the season’--nor will he be troubled by -the hand-shake of a friend, or the suffering appeal of the sick and -needy. Soon, very soon, his ears will be deaf to all entreaties or -messages--he will not even hear the message of the Bells! The Bells!” - -Here the Goblins all began to jump and dance up and down, up and -down,--and turning their hideous faces towards Josiah McNason they -bowed and bobbed before him, shouting and shrieking: - -“The Bells! The Bells!” - -“The message of the Bells!” reiterated the demon orator, waving its -bony hands excitedly--“Grace, mercy, peace! One Timothy Two! Soon, very -soon, our dear Human brother will be offended by that message no more! -Soon--very soon--he will be one of US!” - -With a tremendous effort, Josiah suddenly regained his speech. - -“Never!” he cried, with extraordinary passion--“Never will I be one of -You! Never, so help me God!” - -As he spoke, a sudden terrific roar of mingled flame and wind sounded -in his ears,--the peacock’s tail of light playing up like foam against -the Green Pulpit leaped to an abnormal height, and swallowed up the -“Reverend Mr. Firebrand” in a twinkling,--then, spreading itself into -a rolling stream of fire it swept over the crowd of Goblins and drove -them all helter-skelter before it like dead leaves drifting in a -hurricane, engulfing them all out of sight save one,--the self-styled -“Professor” that still, with its bone of an arm thrust familiarly -through McNason’s, remained beside him as it were “on guard.” The Green -Pulpit vanished, and nothing remained of the whole shadowy building -that had seemed to be a Church, save the great organ, where now instead -of a Goblin, sat a boy acolyte dressed in a little white surplice. -Under his tender young fingers the notes breathed tremulously but -sweetly, and presently he opened his cherub mouth and sang: - -“O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands,--serve the Lord with gladness -and come before his presence with a song!” - -Here the anthem was taken up by some mighty invisible choir: - -“Be ye sure that the Lord He is God; it is He that hath made us and not -We Ourselves----” - -And all at once a white cloud filled the near and distant spaces -like the rushing-in of a wave, and on this opaque pearly vapour came -floating a great number of dazzling Angelic Shapes, wonderfully fair, -gloriously beautiful, carrying palms in their uplifted hands and -singing: - -“Glory! Glory to God in the highest! And on earth, peace and goodwill! -Glory to God!” - -Stricken with a great awe, Josiah McNason looked and listened. He -trembled violently. Should he kneel? He wondered! He had often -_pretended_ to kneel in Church--though he had really only bent his back -slightly for convention’s sake, but now----? - -Before he could make up his mind one way or the other the Goblin’s -clutch descended once more upon his coat-collar. - -“Come along, McNason!” it whispered, “We must go now! We’re not wanted -here! Come!” - -“Oh! Leave me alone, for Heaven’s sake!” muttered Josiah -pleadingly--“Let me stay here! Why take me away?” - -“Why? Because they’re beginning to keep Christmas! We don’t believe in -Christmas, do we? We say ‘Curse Christmas’ don’t we? Of course we do! -Come along! _You’re_ not wanted and _I’m_ not wanted! One Timothy Two! -Off we go!” - - * * * * * - -Another terrible rush and hurry-scurry through unknown heights and -depths of the stormy air, and then with a sudden swoop and pounce, the -Goblin dumped Josiah McNason down outside the garden gate of a pretty -cottage in a quiet country lane. Here, as if by magic, the sky cleared -to a bright blue, and the sun shone out brilliantly. Birds began to -sing, and the scent of a thousand flowers perfumed every light breath -of wind. - -“A little bit of sunshine, McNason!” whispered the Goblin--“It’s winter -time for a good many Humans in many places, but it’s always summer -here. It’s what WE call a ‘spiritual’ climate,--not affected by outside -conditions!” - -The suffering millionaire, breathless, exhausted and conscious of a -great aching pain at his heart, gazed at the peaceful scene before him -in silence. It was a very little garden upon which he looked,--a mere -tea-cup of a garden,--but full to the brim of the sweetest blossom. The -cottage to which the garden belonged was likewise very small, but it -had a deep and cosy porch, up which the loveliest jessamine clambered -and threw out tufts of odorous white spray. Red roses thrust their -warm glowing faces through the masses of snowy bloom, and, twining -in friendly garlands, showered their velvety petals at the feet of a -fair woman who sat just within the porch, with her arms thrown round a -sturdy boy of some nine or ten years old. She was well worth the homage -of the roses--for she was very sweet to look upon,--fresh-complexioned -as the bloom on a peach,--soft-eyed,--full-bosomed, and of an aspect -expressing the serenest peace, love and tenderness. - -“Once upon a time!” she said. - -“Oh, mother!” cried the boy she clasped, “That’s the old way of telling -a story! Try some other way!” - -She laughed. - -“Darling, there’s no other way! Everything was ‘once upon a time’ -wasn’t it?” The little fellow looked up at her seriously. - -“No, I don’t think so! You could never say you were my mother ‘once -upon a time,’ could you? You are my mother always!” - -“Always!” she murmured--“That’s very true, little man! Your mother -always!”--and her lips moved silently--“On earth, and, please God, in -Heaven!” - -Josiah McNason, peering over the garden gate, now tried to open it, but -found it inflexibly closed against him. He heaved an involuntary sigh. -The Goblin echoed the sigh derisively. - -“Heigh-ho, Beelzebub!” it said--“Good-looking woman, eh, McNason? And -a pretty boy! That’s her youngest. She’s got three sons and a lovely -daughter. Feel a bit envious, McNason? Don’t you wish you hadn’t jilted -her?” - -Josiah started. A sense of fear and shame began to tingle through his -long-chilled blood. - -“She is--she----?” he faltered. - -“Exactly! That’s it!” said the Goblin. “She--she IS! The girl whose -first affections you won and threw over! That was a nasty trick -of yours, McNason! You did it for Money--yes!--you’ve always done -everything for Money! But the girl deserved a better fate than either -YOU or your MONEY!--and she’s got it! There she is--a beloved woman, -wife, and mother. Just as pretty as you’re plain! She’s poor and you’re -rich. But she’s contented and you’re wretched! She has three sons--all -clever bright boys,--and you haven’t an heir to your name! You treated -her like a CAD,--and she has married a MAN! He hasn’t millions, but he -has Heart. Heart is a curious thing, McNason! You don’t know what it -is, but it’s really a curious thing! It makes Happiness,--and you don’t -know what _that_ is either!” - -McNason listened dreamily. All desire to resent or deny the Goblin’s -accusations had died out of him. He looked yearningly over that -barred garden gate as an unforgiven sinner might look at the closed -doors of Paradise. So that beautiful woman with the golden-haired boy -was Lilias? Lilias was her name, he remembered;--he had called her -familiarly by it in the old days,--days which he recalled now with -a sense of imminent desolation. Lilias had married and was happy. -Did her happiness please him? No, he could not say it did. A bitter -jealousy burnt in his soul,--a wrathful impatience with Deity. Why was -the future veiled? Why were men left so much in the dark concerning -their destinies? How could he ever have guessed that Lilias would have -ripened from the timid, pretty, trusting girl he had known, into this -gracious, lovely, and loving woman with all the sacred sweetness of -home enfolding her as securely as a rose is enfolded by the cherishing -summer air! And still he looked at her,--and still the bitterness in -him grew yet more bitter, and in a kind of impotent anger he shook the -garden gate with both his hands, determined to force it open. - -“Steady, McNason!” said the Goblin at this juncture--“You’re not -master here, you know! Every man’s house is his castle! You want to -be a burglar, do you? So like you! I know a lot of fellows who feel -that way! When they see a man happier than themselves, with a nice -wife belonging to him, they try to steal the wife away and make him -wretched! It’s a fashionable pastime with them, and they call it -‘Souls!’ Oh, Beelzebub! When they find out what Souls really _are_, -won’t they be sorry for themselves! Come along, McNason!” - -But Josiah clung to the garden gate. - -“Lilias! Lilias!” he called. - -But Lilias, laughing, was playing with her boy’s curls, and neither -turned her head nor raised her eyes. The Goblin chuckled. - -“Think she can hear you, do you?” it inquired -mockingly--“Oh--hoo-roo!--what a fool you are, McNason! She is as far -away from you as you are from her--and that’s a pretty long distance, -I can tell you! You’re out in the storm and wind--she’s in the full -sunshine! As I told you, she enjoys a ‘spiritual’ climate--supernatural -weather! But you don’t believe in the supernatural, do you, McNason? Of -course not! Why should you! You don’t believe in anybody but yourself! -Not even in Me! Oh Beelzebub! Come along, come along!” - -“Where to?” cried the miserable man, “Where in the name of Heaven do -you want to take me next?” - -“You shouldn’t talk about Heaven,”--said the Goblin, severely--“That’s -a ‘supernatural’ place. I don’t want to take you _there_, you may be -sure! It wouldn’t suit you at all! Nor me! Come along, come along! -Don’t hanker any more after what you have lost and can never find -again! Sentiment is Stupidity--Money is Wisdom! Think of that! It -makes you one of the wisest men on earth! Come! I’ve got another old -friend waiting to see you--urgent appointment! Come along, I tell you!” -And the Goblin made a vicious grab at McNason’s coat-collar. “Don’t -_yearn_ like that! You’re too old to play Romeo, and ever so much too -ugly! Hoo-roo-oo-oo! One Timothy Two!--and away we go!” - - * * * * * - -Out into the storm again on the wings of the bitter winter wind! -All the sunshine of the “spiritual” climate vanished, and a great -panorama of dark clouds moved rapidly through the freezing air. -Clouds everywhere!--clouds of fantastic form and giant shape,--clouds -like rocky fortresses set on the summits of high mountains,--clouds -resembling huge ruminative animals wallowing in ether,--clouds heavy -and threatening, suggesting pent-up thunder and jagged flame! Like a -couple of midges the Goblin and its human victim were tossed from edge -to edge of the thick rolling vapours, and when they descended to earth -once more, Josiah McNason found himself in the small “best parlour” of -an unpretentious residence,--one in a row of similar dwellings in an -unpretentious street. - -“Keep your eyes open, McNason!” said the Goblin--“And your ears! Nobody -sees YOU, you know, or ME! We’re invisible. And if you want to curse -and swear, do so by all means! Nobody hears, and nobody cares!” - -Josiah looked, and saw before him a man reclining in an invalid chair -near a small bright fire, his eyes fixed on the sparkling flames with -a patient and wistful sadness. A pale, sweet-faced woman with soft -brown hair somewhat silvered, knelt by him, clasping one of his hands -tenderly in her own. There were traces of tears on her worn thin -cheeks, and her lips quivered. And standing close by, with one arm -resting on the mantelpiece, and eyes bent compassionately down upon the -pair, was another man whom McNason had no difficulty in recognising as -his overseer, Mr. Pitt. Yet his surprise at this was so great that he -could not forbear an exclamation. - -“Pitt here! How the devil----!” - -“Exactly!” said the Goblin--“How the devil and why the devil! Only the -devil knows!” - -Josiah groaned, and then the overpowering dumbness that had seized him -before caught him again in its paralysing power. Stricken mute himself, -he was nevertheless forced to listen with the closest attention to all -that passed around him. And when Pitt spoke, the sound of that equable -familiar voice sent a new and violent shock through his already racked -nervous system. - -“Mr. McNason is a man of iron,”--said Pitt--“There’s no doubt about it! -In fact he’s harder than any metal, for metal can be made to melt, and -he can’t!” - -The man in the invalid chair moved restlessly. - -“Did he remember me at all?--did you remind him?--” he murmured. - -“Yes, Willie, I did! I even recalled the days when you used to carry -his little son on your shoulder round to see the works--and I said, -‘Dove was one of the smartest men in your employ, and brought valuable -custom to the firm.’ But it was all no use--no use!” He paused and then -addressed himself gently to the woman who knelt by her husband’s side. -“I am sure, Mrs. Dove, you believe that I have done my best?” - -“Indeed, indeed, I know you have!” she answered earnestly--“And,--after -all--I never had much hope. Mr. McNason must have endless claims upon -his purse--and memory! It is so seldom one finds a very very rich man -who cares to help little outside troubles like ours--” Here her voice -trembled dangerously, and she ceased. - -Willie Dove sighed a little wearily. - -“Ah well!” he said--“I did my best for him in my day! And I thought -he might possibly be disposed to do me a good turn now. It’s true I -haven’t so many years before me, but I’ve got some working power left -if I could only get well----” - -“I’m afraid it’s my fault, Will!” said his wife piteously. “You -could, of course, go to the Hospital and doctors would attend to you -there--but oh! I couldn’t bear it!--I couldn’t bear it!” And here her -self-control gave way, and she began to sob--“I couldn’t bear to see -you taken away from me after all the years we have spent so happily -together! I couldn’t bear to think of you ill, and in a place where I -could only get at you at stated times, with strangers always about you! -It is very foolish of me and perhaps very wrong--but I--I cannot help -it!” - -Her husband stroked her bent head with his thin delicate hand. - -“Don’t cry, Jennie!” he said softly--“I won’t go away from you! I’d -rather die!” - -Mr. Pitt coughed obstreperously. - -“Look here, Dove,” he said--“Don’t let us be miserable on Christmas -Eve! I left McNason himself looking as wretched as a plucked crow. Poor -old chap! With all his money, I wouldn’t be in his shoes for the world! -Tell me, what did the doctor say when he saw you to-day?” - -“About the same as he has always said,” replied Dove, resignedly--“That -an operation would not only relieve, but cure me, and that he should -like to perform it here in my own house, and get a good surgical nurse -to attend upon me, with my wife’s assistance. For my wife is a capital -nurse, aren’t you, Jennie?” He caressed the bent head again and went -on--“He thinks me of too nervous a temperament to do well away from -home.” - -There followed a silence. Presently Pitt spoke again in determined -accents. - -“I tell you what it is, Dove,” he said, “_I’ll_ lend you the money!” - -Dove started. - -“_You_, Mr. Pitt?” - -“Yes, I!” and Pitt, smiling, drew himself up with an air of -resolution--“I can’t afford it a bit--but I’ll risk it! I’ll risk -it because--well!--because it’s Christmas-time!--Now don’t try to -get up!” for Dove raising himself in his chair with some difficulty, -caught at Pitt’s hand and grasped it hard, while tears stood in his -eyes. “And don’t thank me, because I can’t bear to be thanked! It’s -Christmas-time, as I’ve said--and I’ve always had ‘old-fashioned’ -ideas of Christmas. My mother taught them to me--God bless her!--I -think”--and his voice sank a little--“that perhaps we ought to spare -a little ‘gold, frankincense and myrrh’ just at this season--and this -loan to you will be my thank-offering--though it’s a poor thing at -best, for you see I can’t _give_ you the money, Willie! McNason could -have given it and never have missed it, but I can’t. I wish I could! -However, if you’ll take the will for the deed----” - -And now Mrs. Dove, rising gently from her knees, came up to him and -laid her hand on his arm. - -“God bless you, Mr. Pitt!” she said, in clear sweet tones--“He _will_ -bless you!--be sure of that! What you lend to us is more than given, -because you have such a friendly sympathy with us, and sympathy is -greater than gold! I will not even try to thank you----” - -“No, don’t!” interrupted Pitt, hastily, pressing her hand -hard--“It’s--it’s all right! Dove and I will arrange our business -matters, and I’ll see the doctor to-morrow, even though it _is_ -Christmas Day!” - -“I’ll pay it all back!” said Dove, excitedly--“I can work well -still--I’ve got all my wits about me--and I have a fine offer from a -firm to undertake some affairs for them immediately if I can only pull -up my strength. And I think I shall manage--now!” - -Pitt here drew a chair to the fire opposite the sick man and sat down. - -“It’s a curious thing,”--he said--“how the possession of enormous -wealth hardens some people, and makes them not only difficult to -deal with, but often positively cruel to themselves and to others! -Now if one is to judge by outward looks, Mr. McNason, though a -multi-millionaire, is just about one of the most miserable men alive!” - -The Goblin chuckled, and gave Josiah a nudge with its sharp elbow. - -“Hear that, McNason!” it said--“It’ll do you good to learn what other -folks think of you!” - -“So old, so feeble and so lonely!” went on Mr. Pitt, almost -pathetically--“When he refused to do anything for your assistance, -Dove, I was inclined to be very plain-spoken and give him a bit of my -mind, even at the risk of offending him,--but seeing what a forlorn old -wreck he seemed, with his shrivelled body and wrinkled face, I thought -it was no use being angry with him,--especially at Christmas-time! He’s -not long for this world!” - -Again the Goblin nudged Josiah’s arm and its fiery eyes glowed with -railway-signal brilliancy. - -“It’s not exactly age that will kill him,”--went on Pitt, -meditatively--“He’s not seventy yet, and ought to look much healthier -and stronger than he does. My father is eighty-two, and is as well -set-up a veteran as anyone could wish to see--walks his six miles a -day, and is as young in heart as a boy--but of course he has always -lived a very simple life and never hankered after more money than just -as much as would keep him going and save him from debt. Mr. McNason has -all the cares of an immense business on his brain--and naturally a -break-down must come sooner or later----” - -He ceased. A gust of wind roared down the chimney, throwing the flames -of the little fire crookedly to and fro. Mrs. Dove shivered, and looked -about her uneasily. - -“What a stormy night!” she said--“Not at all a peaceful Christmas!” - -Her husband, lying restfully back in his chair, smiled at her. - -“The peace must be in our hearts, Jennie!” he said--“If we don’t keep -Christmas _there_, it’s no Christmas at all! Storm or calm, it’s a -blessed time!--a time of thanksgiving--a time of hope!” - -“So it is,”--agreed Pitt--“and so may it always be! Now, Mrs. Dove, -bring out a bottle of that old port your good doctor sent you the -other day, and we’ll drink to Willie’s recovery and health and general -usefulness! And we’ll wish old McNason a Merry Christmas, too!” - -They all laughed, and Mrs. Dove set the wine and glasses on the table. -Mr. Pitt poured out the ruby-red cordial, and raising his own glass to -his lips said: - -“A Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. Dove! A Merry Christmas to you, Willie! -And to our grim and gaunt old governor, Mr. McNason, a Merry Christmas -also! And may he find something better than riches in the next world -and be all the happier for the finding!” - -They all three drank this toast, and while they drank, Josiah McNason -trembled in every limb with an ague of exceeding cold. Was he so near -death, he wondered, that even Pitt could see the near approach of his -end? He turned his miserable eyes upon the Goblin, who grinned. - -“Brother ‘Firebrand’ was quite right, you see!” it remarked--“Soon, -very soon, you will be one of US! WE are your ‘next world,’ you know! -And riches don’t count in our United Empire Club--but you’ll be happy, -McNason! Oh yes--you’ll be so happy! Because you will have reaped the -just reward of your labours, and you will be exactly what you have made -of YOURSELF! Nothing could be more satisfactory! Listen! Willie Dove is -talking about you now!” - -And so he was. Willie Dove was speaking in the kindest and gentlest way -possible of the man who had refused to help him in his need. - -“Well, I hope Mr. McNason will live many years yet,” he said--“and that -he will learn how to enjoy and get the best out of the large fortune -he has made. The amount of good he could do if he liked is simply -incalculable--and if he would only use some of his money just for the -sole purpose of benefiting others, and would not merely put it out like -a magnet to draw more money in again, he would be the happiest man -alive. For instance, if instead of subscribing large sums to charities -which are presided over by ‘committees’ who use up half the money for -their own expenses, he would go himself among the poor and personally -relieve them at first hand,--if he would try to help those who are, -with great difficulty, trying to help themselves,--those who cannot -borrow and will not beg,--if he would just put himself out a bit----” - -“Ah, that’s just what he won’t do!” interposed Pitt--“He can’t see -anything or anybody but Himself--that’s the pity of it!” - -“Poor soul!” said Mrs. Dove, gently--“We mustn’t forget that he lost -his only son,--a dear little boy!--and that may have embittered him. -All _our_ children have been mercifully spared to us, thank God!--but -even if one had been taken, I’m sure we should always have been -thinking of that one! And his ‘one’ was his all! We must remember that! -And however hard he is upon _us_, we mustn’t be hard upon _him_! That -wouldn’t be keeping Christmas rightly!” - -At this Josiah turned and flung himself desperately against the -Goblin’s paunch. - -“Take me away!” he muttered, finding his speech with an effort--“Take -me out of this! I--I don’t want to stop here! I want to get -away--QUICK!” - -“‘Coals of fire,’ eh?” said the Goblin--“A trifle scorching, even on -a thick skull like yours, McNason! So you’d forgotten Willie Dove, -had you? Curious! He was always a very excellent fellow, though, and -one of the best men in your employ. The honour of the firm was the -first thing with him at all times, and you owe to his hard work and -straight principles more than you have the honesty to acknowledge! But -it’s no use trying to tip the balance of things, McNason! That balance -always rights itself! Good is good, and evil is evil,--you can’t make -one out to be the other, however much you try! If you’re spiteful, -if you’re mean, if you’re unthankful for the blessings bestowed on -you--and more than all, if you refuse to help those who have helped -_you_, you are punished! You are, really! And a good sound flogging you -get, I can tell you! Oh Beelzebub!--don’t _I_ know this! When I was a -Churchwarden----” - -“_Will_ you do as I ask you?” implored Josiah, desperately, “Get me out -of this! I want to go home!” - -“Poor old baby! Wants to go home, does it!” jeered the Goblin--“Oh, -but it mustn’t be naughty! It must go where its nursey takes it! Just -another little ridey-pidey in its coachy-poachy!” And rising aloft -on its skeleton toes, the Goblin grew larger and more threatening of -aspect, while its bat-wings, slowly unfurling, seemed spreading out so -darkly and interminably that Josiah fell on his knees in terror--“Just -another taste of the ‘supernatural,’ McNason! Just another little -experience of Hell’s United Empire Club!” - -“No, no!” gasped the trembling millionaire--“Let me get home! Give me -a chance to--to----” - -His voice gurgled away into a faint tremolo. - -“Chance! You’ve had a thousand chances!” retorted the Goblin, -scornfully, “And you’ve thrown them all away! Now you’re asking for -_one_ chance! Oh, hoo-roo! Come and see how Christians love one -another! With a love that perhaps you may appreciate, because it is so -like hate! Come and hear an ‘ordained’ clerical Judas deny his Master! -YOU and such men as YOU--gorged with gold, and diseased with Self,--are -chiefly to blame for the wicked blasphemies which to-day brand the -Christian world with infamy! Come--come! Blasphemy will suit you! You -have aided it and abetted it many a time, even though you _are_ a -‘churchwarden.’ Oh, hoo-roo, hoo-roo! Come in the spirit of One Timothy -Two! Come!--come! COME!” - -And like a great phantom of black Night descending, the Goblin swooped -upon Josiah once more;--the little quiet room,--where Willie Dove, his -wife and friend were all cheerily drinking “A Merry Christmas,”--was -blotted from his sight, and again limitless space enshrouded and -enveloped him in darkness. - - * * * * * - -A muffled and monotonous sound of chanting--the twinkling of many -bright lights,--and the subdued rustling movement of many people -gathered together,--these were the next impressions that awakened -McNason to renewed consciousness. He stood in what seemed a shadowy -forest of architecture;--there were great marble monuments all round -him inscribed with the names of famous poets, warriors and historians, -and on one of these the Goblin squatted cross-legged beside him, -blinking with its owl-like eyes. - -“There’s not a seat to be had, McNason!” it remarked, with a leer--“You -must stand! Oh, Beelzebub! What a thing it is to be a ‘fashionable’ -preacher! Nothing ‘draws!’ so well nowadays as an Atheist in Holy -Orders! Not even our reverend brother ‘Firebrand’! Oh, hoo-roo!” - -McNason looked bewilderedly about him. Surely he knew the place he -was in?--its blackened arches, its shadowy aisles were not wholly -unfamiliar? Gradually he recognised it as that melancholy Valhalla of -English departed greatness, Westminster Abbey. But why had his uncanny -incubus, “Professor” Goblin, brought him hither? What had he to do -with the dense crowd of people massed round him--all looking--all -listening----! - -Hush! The monotonous chanting ceased--there was a brief pause of -pretence at prayer--and then a man’s voice, clear and incisive, but -with a falsetto ring of cold superciliousness and irony in its tone, -sounded vibratingly on the silence. The Church’s ordained Preacher -of the Gospel began to preach, and Josiah McNason, more than any -other human unit in the congregation, was compelled to listen. And -as he listened, he became aware that this same ordained preacher was -calmly, but none the less surely, doing his best to undermine the -very faith of which he was a professed disciple. Craftily, and with -cunningly devised arguments, which held their meaning deftly secreted -under a veil of choice expressions and well-turned phrases, he spoke -of “old” beliefs with delicate tolerance and compassion--throwing in -occasional questionings as to the meaning of “miracles,” and setting -down “Divine” interposition as a fable, or rather as a beautiful myth -which in the “darker” ages of the world was eminently useful as a means -of intimidating and chastening the spirits of the ignorant. He spoke -much of a “New Feeling” which was awakening among more advanced and -civilised human kind,--that special “New Feeling” which looks upon Man -as in himself supreme, and answerable to no Higher Tribunal than His -Own for his actions. He deprecated the unfortunately chaotic state -of things in the Churches which prevented a full inquiry into the -foundations of belief, and hoped that the time was fast approaching -when a larger and broader view might be obtained, and humanity be -absolved from special duties to a Supernatural Conception which might -possibly be a mistaken conception after all. In fine, the drift of -his involved and euphuistic eloquence was to imply that pigmy Man -would in due course be permitted to fathom the Mind of God,--and not -only be permitted to fathom it, but to criticize it, question it -and possibly condemn it after the same easy style, and in the same -casual fashion, in which all human criticism condemns what it is too -limited to comprehend. And gradually it was forced in upon Josiah -McNason’s not always receptive intelligence that the rankest heresy, -the vilest blasphemy was being preached from a Christian pulpit, by -one who, passing for a “Christian” minister, was nothing more nor less -than a foul hypocrite, and a disgrace to his sacred calling. Yet the -congregation listened. They did not rise at once and make a quiet exit -as they should have done, had they been honest and brave,--had they -truly loved the Faith which leads to Heaven! Yet their faces expressed -a certain dull bewilderment,--some looked worried and sad--others -perplexed,--though many of them appeared indifferent. And certain -words which he had heard often, yet which he had scarcely heeded while -hearing them, came ringing across McNason’s mind as clearly as though -they had just been spoken into his ears: - -“AND BECAUSE INIQUITY SHALL ABOUND, THE LOVE OF MANY SHALL WAX COLD!” - -He trembled. His eyes were dim,--but he could still see the -Atheist-Preacher’s cold, intellectual face,--he was still in a vague -way conscious that the sermon was going on, and that a human creature, -full to the very brows of self-sufficiency and conceit, was presuming -to lay down the law concerning the possible limitations of the -Divine--a human creature moreover who occupied his very position in the -Church through having solemnly sworn fidelity to the Master whom now, -by the most covert subterfuges and sophistries, he was denying,--and he -was aware that a sense of uneasiness and discomfort affected nearly all -present, including even himself. He turned to look at the Goblin,--but -to his amazement it had disappeared! Was he free then?--free once more -to go where he liked and do as he liked? - -He tried to move--but his feet seemed fastened to the earth with iron -weights; he essayed to speak,--but his tongue refused to obey the -impulse of his brain. On, still on, the voice of the Atheist-Preacher -in England’s ancient Abbey flowed, with that equable fluency which -comes of long and careful elocutionary practice, and Josiah McNason, -wedged as he was into the close-pressing crowd, wondered how long he -would have to stand there, listening to what at another more convenient -time he might very likely have considered a clever and “up-to-date” -exposition of the “New Feeling.” All at once he saw a great Light, like -that of the sun at noonday, suddenly begin to shine. With glorious -effulgence it formed into a halo of exceeding brilliancy, spreading -from north to south, from east to west of the old Church, between the -Choir and the Nave, and with a palpitating dread shaking his very soul, -Josiah watched it widening and ever widening, till taking upon itself -the shape of a Cross, it fired the whole scene with the radiance of -a golden morning! Yet no one saw it apparently,--no one save he, the -world’s great millionaire, who, denying the “supernatural,” was for -the time under “supernatural” sway. And trembling, he beheld that -wondrous Cross move mysteriously forward, till its light poured with -a gracious beauty and beneficence over all the dull worn faces of the -people--on men and women and children alike,--though, as it moved, it -left the face of the Atheist-Preacher covered with darkness. And in -the very heart and centre of its environment lustre, a majestic Figure -paced slowly--a god-like Man, whose Features were sorrowful, and whose -Brow was crowned with Thorns. A faint whisper floated on the air like -the sigh of small spirit voices in plaintive unison: - -“Despised and Rejected! Love, Divine and Human, Love, Perfect and -Eternal! Despised and Rejected! Even NOW!” - -Down, down on his knees fell the man of many millions, overcome by the -most poignant fear and shame he had ever known. He had disbelieved! -He knew it at last,--he knew that he had, for the sake of public -conventionality, made mere hypocritical pretence to worship One Whose -sublime teaching he outraged every day of his life, Whose commands he -ignored, and Whose example he had never at any time tried to follow. -And now--now! With pulses beating as though they would burst, and eyes -dim with painful tears wrung from the centre of the rocky region of his -heart, he sought to cover his face,--but was forced against his will to -gaze, half blind and giddy as he was, on that majestic advancing Shape, -which appeared to draw away all the shadows of the great cathedral and -transfuse them into light. He noticed, with an extraordinary anguish, -which to him was as new as it was keen, that the crowded congregation -of people among whom he knelt seemed totally unaware of the shining -Presence that passed them by,--and as that Presence moved slowly and -silently towards the closed doors of the Abbey, he felt that he must -cry out wildly:-- - -“Look--look! Kneel down and pray! Entreat Him not to leave us, for if -He goes, why should we remain!” - -But all utterance was denied him. He could only watch and tremble. -Slowly, very slowly, with a grand reproach expressed in every feature -of its glorious Countenance, the heavenly Vision of the Crucified moved -on,--the doors of the Abbey opened noiselessly, as though flung aside -by invisible hands, admitting a broad shaft of winter moonlight from -the outer air,--and so, never once looking back, it passed out and away -from the crowded church of “Christian” worshippers, and, melting into -the silvery radiance of the moon, disappeared. The doors closed darkly -behind it--and black shadows drooped from the dim cathedral arches, -hanging drearily over the people, and filling the aisles and chapels -with a dull noxious vapour--and then with a sudden startling clangour, -out rang the Bells again! The Bells! Hoarse and reproachful!--full of -menace and foreboding, loneliness and despair! Such a tolling chime -they gave as might fit the burial of all the faiths and aspirations -of the world! They spoke of Death, not Life!--of the black grave from -which all hope of resurrection had been taken,--with a sob in their -savage metal throats they proclaimed the closing of the gates of -Heaven!--with harsh resistance they bewailed the loss of confidence in -God, of trust in the future, of comfort in sorrow--and with dismal and -heavy reverberation they thundered forth “Death! Death! Death is the -end of all! There shall be no Hereafter!” - -Within the Abbey the people looked doubtfully at one another. Some -smiled--some sighed,--one or two had tears in their eyes. A faint -whisper ran from lip to lip. “Christmas Day!” they murmured--“It is -Christmas Day!” And again they sighed and smiled. But it was evident -that the old Festival for them held no meaning--no tender or pious -memory. Once perhaps it might have had--but now--! Why now the very -Spirit and Soul of Christmas had departed!--the doors of the Christian -Church itself were closed against it,--the Divine Friend of Mankind had -passed by unheeded, and had gone away from those who were passively -permitting His honour to be assailed,--what then was Christmas Day but -the mere empty name of a discarded Blessing! The dark shadows steadily -thickened,--and Josiah, still grovelling on the ground, with the awful -clang of the moaning Bells in his ears, felt that he was being stifled -and pressed down into a tomb of everlasting icy cold,--when he was -suddenly plucked up from his knees by the grip of a too familiar claw, -and lo!--the Goblin stood confronting him with a sad and sober grin. - -“Dull place, Westminster Abbey!” it remarked--“Oh hoo-roo! All damp -and dismals! I wouldn’t be an England’s great man for anything! It’s -the last reward an England’s great man ever gets,--the ‘honour’--oh, -hoo-roo!--of being allowed to moulder among the most mouldered remains -that ever mouldered! Hoo-roo! I’m glad the body I used to wear when I -was a Churchwarden is all turned into daisies in a country churchyard. -Pretty things, daisies! Fancy _your_ old wrinkles turning into them!” - -McNason was silent. He stood quietly resigned to the Goblin’s clutch, -waiting for its next move. And while he waited, he saw the crowd in -front of him sway, part asunder, and begin to disperse,--while the -Atheist-Preacher, descending from the pulpit, held brief conversation -with a man who took from his hand a roll of paper. McNason could hear -him speaking, despite the space between them. - -“Here’s my sermon in full,”--he said--“I hope you will give it the -widest publicity. The ‘copy’ contains a good many effective bits which -I was obliged to leave out with a mixed congregation. You never know -how people may take the upsetting of their cherished creeds! In such -work the Press can do more than the Pulpit. Nothing like a good Press -discussion for shaking the old foundations! And I think my remarks are -likely to cause a fluttering in the dove-cotes!” - -The reporter--for such he was--smiled. - -“You are not afraid of your Archbishop?” he said. - -The Atheist-Preacher laughed. - -“My Archbishop! He has no time to give his attention to any such matter -as this. He’s too busy with the claims of the Poor Clergy!” - -They both laughed then, shook hands and separated. McNason, in the -Goblin’s grasp, watched them go their several ways, and then suddenly -recovering his speech, said:-- - -“That man ought to be put out of the Church!” - -“Quite right--so he ought!” agreed the Goblin--“You are getting quite -discriminating, Josiah! He ought to be put out of the Church, but -who’s going to do it? He isn’t drunk or disorderly! He’s a liar and a -hypocrite, and he’s taking his ‘salary’ on false pretences--but there -are hundreds--perhaps thousands--like him! Besides, those who live in -glass houses shouldn’t throw stones! You’re as bad as he is in your -way! You pretend----” - -“I _have_ pretended----!” said McNason, humbly. - -The Goblin looked at him, and closed one round eye in a most horrible -and portentous wink. - -“I see!” it observed--“You’re preparing to make a good end! You’re like -the Naughty Duchess! Oh, hoo-roo! What a character _she_ was! She went -the pace as hard as ever she could till she was quite worn out and -could count her crows-feet,--then she began to go to Church regularly, -and became publicly charitable. She turned herself into a Bazaar Lady; -opened several soup-kitchens, and used to cry over the newest sweet -thing in curates. Naughty, naughty Duchess! When she died an eminent -Dean preached a sermon about her. She left him five thousand pounds in -her will. He said she was ‘one of the noblest women that ever lived.’ -And she’s one of us now. Oh hoo-roo! Don’t you try to be like her, -McNason!--it doesn’t pay! Come along!--Come and take a look at London!” - -With a fantastic caper, the Goblin sidled and skipped out of the -Abbey, its conical cap glowing like the flame of a will-o’-the-wisp in -a dark morass,--while passively, and without any strength to resist -its imperious lead, the millionaire followed. In the full radiance -of a moon which made the streets as light as day, they presently -stood,--and as in a fevered dream, Josiah saw the familiar clock-tower -of Westminster, the great square in front of the Houses of Parliament, -and the twinkling lamps on the bridge that spans the steely gleam of -the river Thames. The dull human roar of the great metropolis thundered -in his ears like the rushing of many waters, and while he yet looked -on the scene which he knew so well, the Goblin took off its cap and -touched his eyes with its tasselled point. - -“Tick-tock! Tick-tock! Only two thousand years by the Spirit’s clock!” -it said. - -And lo!--the stately tower, buildings and streets disappeared! -Smooth green fields spread out on every side, full-flowering with -meadow-sweet, buttercups and daisies,--there was no longer any bridge -across the river, which, flowing calmly between low banks of mossy turf -and fern, reflected the sunshine in a thousand sparkles and plashed -against the double shores with musical murmurs of peace. A flock of -sheep grazed on the quiet pasture, and their shepherd sat at his ease -by the side of the placid stream. - -And now the Goblin waved its spidery arms. - -“Ask him,” it said--“what has become of London!” - -Obediently McNason put the question. The shepherd turned upon him a -young wondering face. - -“London!” he echoed. Then he smiled. “Oh yes, I think I know what you -mean! There _was_ a city of that name somewhere about here once, but I -don’t know exactly where! There’s nothing of it left now!” - -“Nothing!” exclaimed McNason, aghast. - -“Nothing!”--And the Goblin, pronouncing this word, waved its arms -again, whereupon the Vision vanished,--“Nothing! Not a shred!--not a -brick--not a bone! Not even a gold Coin! All the business--Gone!--all -the pleasure--Gone!--all the scheming, plotting, lying, cheating, -villainy, hatred and envy of one human creature contesting with the -other--Gone! All the self-sufficiency, learning, little wisdom, and -utter godlessness--Gone! Such will London be in two thousand years! And -Nature will not miss it! Nature can do without it very well; Nature can -do without you equally well, McNason! The sun will go on shining and -the birds will go on singing none the less because You are wanting! -Come along!--come along! In the spirit of One Timothy Two, time’s up! -Off we go on our last journey!” - -Once more Josiah fell on his knees. - -“Spare me!” he cried--“Spare me! Surely I have suffered enough!” - -“Suffered? You? Oh Beelzebub!” And the Goblin began to elongate itself -in its own peculiar and terror-striking style, “You’ve only just begun -to know what it is to _feel_! You hard old scoundrel! _You_ talk of -suffering!--why, you have lived till over sixty years of age, caring -nothing at all for the troubles of others unless you could turn such -troubles to your own advantage! As a child you were selfish,--as a boy -you were selfish,--as a young man you were selfish,--as an old man -you are selfish! You have crushed out hundreds of human lives in your -factories as if they were mere ants swarming under your iron heel! -You have cut down the expenses of your business to the narrowest, -meanest, most pitiful margin,--you ‘sweat’ your labourers to such an -extent that you know you dare not walk through your own workshops -without a revolver in your pocket and a man on either side of you -for protection--you are a living curse to the majority of those you -employ--and they look for your death in the hope that after you are -gone they will have a kinder master! And _you_ quote Shakespeare, do -you? And the Bible! Oh hoo-roo! Come along! Time’s up, I tell you! And -we’re not going far. Just a little see-saw ride to a Home Sweet Home! -A last long Home! A Happy Home! Oh hoo-roo-oo-oo! One Timothy Two, and -away we go!” - - * * * * * - -Again a brief spell of semi-consciousness--a kind of waking nightmare -in which many confused sights and sounds were intermingled;--flying -visions of pale worn faces full of sorrow and appeal; noises as of -weeping, with stifled cries and sobs of pain;--and then Josiah McNason -opened his eyes widely, to find himself lying flat on a narrow bed in -the centre of a rather large room. His head rested on a small, very -hard pillow,--and on this pillow squatted the Goblin with an air of -being quite at ease. - -“Here we are in a happy ‘Home,’ McNason!” it chuckled softly in his -ear--“Don’t worry! Don’t agitate yourself! Keep quiet calm! You will -have every possible attention!” - -Josiah stared helplessly about him. He saw his clothes neatly folded -and placed all together on the top of a chest of drawers,--his top-hat -was also a particularly conspicuous object on a chair close by. He -realised that he had been undressed and put to bed, but how this had -happened he could not tell. He turned a miserable questioning gaze on -the Goblin. - -“What--what’s this?” he stammered--“What are you going to do to me?” - -“I?” And the Goblin, with an injured air of perfect innocence, executed -a diabolical French shrug of its shoulders--“I’m not going to do -anything to you, my dear sir! I wouldn’t be so cruel! It is THEY!--THEY -are going to do something to you,--but all for your good!--oh, -hoo-roo--all for your good!” - -THEY! Who were THEY? With painful hesitation Josiah turned his eyes -round about again, and presently saw, standing near him like dim -figures in a blurred photograph, two men talking confidentially -together--one fairly young, the other elderly,--while with them was -a smart, well-set-up, rather perky looking woman attired in the -conventional grey gown, spotless apron and cap of the “professional” -nurse. The elderly man’s back was turned, but he seemed to be -expounding some knotty point of argument to his companions with -particular emphasis and gusto. - -“Something’s gone wrong with the Works, McNason!” said the Goblin, -confidentially, “That’s what’s the matter?” - -“Works?” And McNason’s troubled mind immediately reverted to his huge -factories--“What works?” - -“YOUR works!” and the Goblin leered at him sideways with a frightful -grin--“Your internal works! And these two learned gentlemen are going -to find out what it is. You’re ill, you know!--you’re very ill! The -learned gentlemen don’t quite understand how or why you’re ill, but -they’re going to find out! They’re going to slice you up and see what -you’re like inside! It will be most interesting and instructive--to -the learned gentlemen! It won’t interest YOU at all, because you’re to -be put under chloroform, and you won’t know anything about it except -when you ‘come to.’ Then you will die! But that won’t particularly -matter! The operation is sure to be ‘most successful.’ An operation is -always ‘successful,’ even if the patient never recovers! The medical -profession must be safeguarded, you know!” - -McNason heard, and in an instant became a prey to the most violent -access of nervous horror. - -“I’m not ill!” he said fiercely. “There’s nothing whatever the -matter with me! How dare you say there is! It’s all a mistake--an -abominable mistake! I’ve never suffered from any illness except -gout and indigestion--never!--there’s no operation needed for such -ailments!--what the devil do you mean by bringing me here?” - -“You _will_ talk about the devil!” And the Goblin shook its tasselled -cap at him reproachfully--“Don’t say I mentioned him first! You’re ill, -I tell you!--you’re more seriously ill than your old friend Willie -Dove, and you’re here _because_ you’re ill! ‘To this complexion must -we come at last’! Oh Beelzebub! They don’t know whether it’s cancer or -appendicitis with YOU!” - -“Look here!” almost shouted Josiah, addressing himself to the two men, -who, with the nurse, still stood together talking, but who appeared not -to hear him--“Take me out of this place directly! I’ve been brought -here on false pretences! I’m not ill! I don’t want an operation! I -won’t be operated upon! I’ll--I’ll----!” - -Here exhausted, he sank back on his hard pillow impotently clenching -his hands in a paroxysm of rage and fear. - -The Goblin grinned. - -“Now, McNason, keep cool!” it said--“Don’t show temper! Doctors don’t -like that sort of thing. They call it ‘nerves’ and they give you a -soothing draught. Besides, these two eminent personages who are just -now discussing your ‘case’ can’t hear you, and if they could they -wouldn’t listen. One’s a ‘Sir.’ He’s a clever man, of course, or he -wouldn’t be a ‘Sir.’ It’s a little unpleasant that the title puts him -on the same rank with any provincial Mayor who has presented an address -to the Sovereign! But it can’t be helped. There’s no suitable honour -in this country for _merely_ intellectual and scientific persons! Now -about your case----” - -“I’ve _no_ case!” groaned the wretched millionaire--“No case at all----” - -“You _are_ a case!” declared the Goblin--“A whole case in yourself! A -case of a man gone wrong! A case of a human creature who has a stone -in the place where his heart ought to be!--a hard, heavy stone, without -a pulse of love or kindness in it! A case? Oh Beelzebub! I should -think you _are_ a case! Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up--that’s the broad-backed -elderly gentleman over there,--thinks you’ve got something ‘malignant’ -inside! Oh hoo-roo-oo-oo! I should think you had! Sir Slasher believes -it’s cancer. But if it is, they’ll never find it, McNason! No!--_your_ -cancer’s on the mind!--and they’ll never cut _that_ out! But they’re -going to have a good try!” - -Josiah moaned helplessly. - -“Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up is a great vivisector,”--proceeded the Goblin, -cheerfully--“He knows where to find every little nerve and muscle in -the body of a dog, for instance. I don’t say your body is at all like -that of a dog!--I know your Soul isn’t half so honest or so faithful! -Sir Slasher has had more than a hundred innocent animals under his -scalpel--all poor, trustful, good creatures whom he has pinned and -stretched in every possible position on his rack of torture--whose -nerves he has severed--whose muscles he has galvanized--and whom he has -killed as slowly, as ruthlessly and as criminally as any Torquemada -that ever roasted a heretic to the sound of sacred music! Hoo-roo! -Sir Slasher knows a thing or two, I can tell you! He’s a licensed -murderer of the harmless and helpless,--but even a dog’s soul has a -place in the eternal countings, as Sir Slasher may find out to his cost -when he becomes a member of our United Empire Club! He cut up a dog -yesterday--now he’s going to cut up YOU! You’re a splendid subject for -him, you know! You’ve got so much MONEY!” - -Again Josiah moaned in a stupor of fear. - -“You’ve got so much MONEY!” repeated the Goblin, smacking its wide -lips as though it were tasting something savoury,--“And MONEY’s a -great thing! MONEY has enabled you to come to this ‘Home’--one of the -most select ‘Homes’ in London! Oh, Home Sweet Home! Oh happy, happy -Home! It’s the special pet ‘Nursing Home’ of Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up, -where he’s got the matron and all the nurses under his big Thumb! Oh, -hoo-roo! Such a dear Home! You pay Five Guineas a week for your room to -begin with,--and then when you’re very ill, you pay Ten. Afterwards, -when you get worse and are likely to die, you pay Fifteen. The nurse -is extra. If you have two nurses you have two extras. Everything apart -from the room and the bed is ‘extra.’ If you want a bottle of soda -water you pay sixpence for a ‘split,’ ninepence for a full. And so on! -And so on! Oh, what a dear ‘comfy’ Home! There aren’t many like it in -London, I can tell you! Only a few--a beautiful, blessed few!” - -At this moment, the personage whom the Goblin designated as Sir -Slasher-Cut-Em-Up finished his conversation with his younger -colleague, and both gentlemen smiled pleasantly, not to say -flirtatiously, at the grey-gowned nurse. - -“Twelve o’clock to-morrow will do very well,” said Sir Slasher--“We -shall leave you to make all the preliminary arrangements, Nurse -Drat-Em-All. He’s asleep just now, I see!” - -“I’m not asleep!”--gurgled McNason, feebly. - -But Sir Slasher apparently did not hear. He stood by the bedside, -smiling blandly, his hands clasped behind him under his coat-tails. - -“One of the richest men in the world!” he ejaculated, -appreciatively--“Dear me, dear me! Ah well, well! Has he any family?” - -“None,”--said Nurse Drat-Em-All--“He had one son, I believe, who died -in childhood.” - -She spoke primly, her lips opening and shutting on her words like a -kind of mechanical valve. But while she spoke she flashed her eyes at -the younger doctor with a feline cajolery in their hard brown depths. - -“Then who,” murmured Sir Slasher, thoughtfully--“Who is to carry on his -vast business concerns? Who is to inherit his enormous fortune?” - -No answer was forthcoming to this profound proposition. - -Sir Slasher thereupon removed his hands from under his coat-tails, and -consulted his watch. - -“I must be going,”--he said--“You will attend to all that is necessary, -Nurse?” - -“Certainly, Sir Slasher!” - -“I shall bring Dr. Choke-Em-Off with me to-morrow--and I think--yes, -I think”--here he looked benevolently considerate--“that taking -into account Mr. McNason’s great wealth and important position, -and--er--also--er--the very great difficulty and uncertainty of the -operation, Dr. Choke-Em-Off’s fee should be doubled! He is one of our -best anæsthetists--what do you say, Nurse?” - -Sir Slasher had a delightful smile, and he was smiling delightfully -now. Nurse Drat-Em-All responded to the charm of it. - -“There is no doubt that it is justifiably a case of double fees all -round!” she said, her own smile breaking into a giggle. - -“Exactly!” And Sir Slasher shed a fatherly glance upon her--“And our -young friend here”--at this he laid a hand on his fellow-surgeon’s -shoulder--“Our young and brilliant friend will also have an opportunity -of displaying his skill and securing his reward! Of course,”--here he -became portentously business-like--“it will be advisable to get the -patient to sign the required cheques in advance,--there will be no -difficulty about that I should imagine! Because you see,--afterwards!” - -“Ah!--afterwards!” echoed the younger doctor, speaking for the first -time. - -Sir Slasher tried to look grave, but failed in the attempt. - -“Afterwards,” he said pleasantly,--“the worthy millionaire may not be -in a condition to sign anything! I think”--and he paused, stroking -his smooth double chin--“I think, Nurse, he should be told that the -operation is a grave, very grave one, in case--these things sometimes -happen!--in case he has not made a will--or--let us say in case he -might wish to make some last testamentary gift--to--er--to me?--or--or -to you?--or to anyone else who may have rendered him a service?” - -“I’ll see that he does all that he ought to do!” said Nurse -Drat-Em-All, with some severity--“I like my patients to be prepared for -the worst!” - -“Quite right--quite right!” murmured Sir Slasher--“But prepare him -gently--quite gently, Nurse! By degrees--and cautiously! I _have_ known -cases where patients, getting too much alarmed, have made their escape -from a home like this by jumping out of the window! And strange to say -they have--some of them--escaped uninjured!--and stranger still, they -have recovered and lived many years! Most curious and remarkable! But -nerves are unaccountable things!” Here he paused and looked again at -McNason. “He sleeps very soundly! I should say he was older than he -admits! Ah well, well! We shall see! But I very much fear there’s no -chance for his recovery!” - -“Then why not spare the knife and let him live as long as Nature will -allow him?” asked the younger doctor suddenly. - -Sir Slasher looked amazed and reproachful. - -“My dear sir! I was called in by Mr. McNason, and I must do my best for -such a very wealthy man! Besides, I think his is a very complex case, -and likely to prove most helpful and instructive. To-morrow at twelve -o’clock, Nurse! Good-evening!” - -And Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up walked softly out of the room, followed by -his colleague. Nurse Drat-Em-All, with a casual glance at the bed where -Josiah McNason lay, settled her cap more coquettishly on her head and -tripped after them. - -“They’re gone!” said the Goblin then, sliding down from the pillow and -sitting astride on Josiah’s recumbent body--“But Nurse Drat-Em-All will -soon be back!” - -“I don’t want her back!” groaned McNason, making an attempt to draw up -the bed-quilt in order to cover his eyes, in which effort he did not -succeed--“I don’t want anything! Leave me alone!” - -“Sorry I can’t oblige you!” replied the Goblin--“I can’t leave you -alone till you leave YOURSELF alone! And Nurse Drat-Em-All must come -back to attend to her duties! She’s got a lot of things to do to you!” - -McNason peered over the extreme edge of the bed-quilt. - -“A lot of things to do to me?” he echoed, whimperingly--“What--what -will she do?” - -“She will wash you first!” said the Goblin, briskly--“All over! Oh, -such a nice wash! Made of carbolic disinfectant! And you will be so -clean--_outside_ you!” - -Josiah closed his eyes shudderingly. - -“And then you will be put into a new flannel night-shirt,”--went on the -Goblin--“And you will perhaps be allowed a cup of hot milk or beef tea. -And when you’re nice and warm and clean and cosy, Nurse Drat-Em-All -will come and tell you to prepare for your end!” - -“No--no!” cried McNason--“I’m not ill!--and I’m not ready--!” - -“You _are_ ill!” declared the Goblin, firmly--“And never mind about -not being ready for your end. Nurse Drat-Em-All will _make_ you ready! -She’ll tell you what a very serious and expensive matter it will be to -slice you up scientifically to-morrow--and she will ask you where your -cheque book is----” - -“I won’t tell her--I won’t--” stuttered McNason. - -“Oh yes, you will! _She’ll_ get it out of you! And then you’ll write -a big cheque for Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up, and another for the matron of -this happy ‘Home’--and for Dr. Choke-Em-Off,--and for everybody else -who wants a fee for sending you into the next world--and then--then -you’ll be allowed to sleep if you can! And to-morrow--to-morrow----” - -Here the Goblin paused. Josiah raised himself up on his hard pillow and -looked at it with appealing eyes. - -“Not so very long ago,”--it went on presently, in a kind of sing-song -monotone, “A man I knew went to a ‘Home’ something like this, only -not quite so up-to-date and expensive. He was a bold, kindly, genial -creature, fond of life and life’s pleasures. Something went wrong -with him and he consulted the doctors. They told him he had an -internal ailment, but they could not tell whether it was ‘malignant’ -or not, till they had, so to speak, ‘opened him up.’ He felt strong -and hopeful, and consented to the operation. The surgeons did their -work--and how they did it, of course, only they can tell. But it was, -according to their own report, ‘successful.’ In forty-eight hours -the warm-blooded personality of the man that had talked, smiled and -jested with his own danger, was a mere lump of cold, stiff clay. He -had relatives--oh yes!--he had children for whom he had worked all -his life. What did they do? Why, they allowed his body which had so -lately pulsated with love for them all, to be taken away from the -‘home’ in which he died, and laid in a dismal vault without a single -soul to keep watch by it at night or say a prayer! The world is growing -callous concerning the dead, you know! And they don’t keep corpses in -‘Homes.’ When a man dies under an operation he must be ‘removed’ by -his family at once. In this case the poor fellow was ‘removed’ to a -chill city mortuary. His children, warm and comfortable, ate food as -usual and discussed the funeral business. Down in the cold and darkness -lay the once animated, cheery, generous-hearted man, alone--all, all, -alone!--shut out from the movement and light of natural things, with -no loving eyes to keep watch by his mortal remains,--no tender hands -to lay flowers on his lifeless breast!--and yet sentimentalists talk -about family love and home-affections! Oh hoo-roo!” And the Goblin -actually had tears like sparks of fiery dew in its eyes--“You ought -to be glad you’ve got no children, McNason! You’ve got MONEY instead! -And MONEY will enable you to have your body carried home grandly to -your country seat by special train! You can be laid out in state if -you like!--provided you give the order before Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up -arrives to-morrow--candles burning all round you and wreaths on your -coffin,--it’s all done for MONEY!--and you can have a most expensive -funeral,--a beautiful mausoleum,--a marble monument and a lying -Epitaph! All for MONEY! MONEY’S a great thing, McNason!--and you’ve got -it! Oh Beelzebub! You’ve got it! But you’ve got nothing else!” - -At this juncture McNason suddenly sat up in bed. - -“Yes, I have!” he said, with a kind of trembling eagerness--“I’ve got -something else! I’ve got YOU! And I want--I want to make a friend of -YOU!” - -The Goblin opened its round eyes so wide that they threatened to fall -out. - -“Oh, you do, do you?” it queried doubtfully--“That’s odd! Now what put -that into your head?” - -“I don’t know--I don’t know!” stammered McNason agitatedly--“But I -think----I feel----you don’t really want to do me any harm! Look -here!--Get me out of this! Take me away--take me away--take me home!” - -The Goblin took off its conical cap and examined the interior of that -head gear with critical gravity. Its hair, in the all-round style, -seemed blacker and stickier than ever, and its features worked into the -most alarming contortions. - -“Take you home!” it echoed--“What! Before Nurse Drat-Em-All comes back?” - -“Yes--yes!” and Josiah wrung his hands imploringly; “Take me away at -once----!” - -“But you’re ill!” said the Goblin--“You’re very ill!” - -“I’m not!” - -“You ARE! You’ve got a cancer!” - -“I haven’t!” - -“You HAVE! It’s called Selfishness! It is eating your life -away,--poisoning your blood--rotting your Soul!” - -“I’ll get rid of it!--I’ll--I’ll cut it out myself!”--and in his -excitement McNason caught hold of the Goblin’s claw and pressed it -fervently--“I will--I will! Only take me out of this! Give me a chance!” - -“You’re feverish too!” continued the Goblin, severely. “Your -temperature has gone up to the very highest point of Fraudulent -Philanthropy!” - -“I know--I know!--but it will be all right!--only let me get home, and -you shall see--you shall see----!” - -Here his voice ebbed away into a kind of choked sob. - -“And I’m not sure that you haven’t got eczema,”--pursued the -Goblin--“Your snobbish hankering after a Peerage will probably break -out in a rash all over you!” - -“It won’t!” said McNason--“It shan’t! I’ll--I’ll do whatever you tell -me----!” - -“Oh, will you really though!” And the Goblin sniffed the air with its -terribly plastic nose very dubiously--“Do you mean it? Or is it all -funk? And only because you want to get away from Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up? -I don’t believe in death-bed repentances!” - -“It’s not--it’s not a death-bed repentance!” wailed McNason--“I don’t -want this to be my death-bed! I want to die in my own home!” - -“Ah! So does Willie Dove!” said the Goblin. “Perhaps you can understand -now why his wife doesn’t want to send him to a Hospital!” - -McNason shuddered. Time was flying fast, he thought--that cruel-looking -Nurse Drat-Em-All would be coming back immediately!--and with an -imploring cry he held out his arms to the Goblin. - -“Ah, be good to me!” he moaned--“Take me home! I’ll promise -anything--anything!” - -“It’s easy to promise,”--said the Goblin, “Anyone can do that! But will -you keep your promises? For instance, will you think of some other few -things besides YOURSELF?” - -McNason lifted his trembling hands in the fashion of one invoking the -gods. - -“I will!--I will!” - -“You are a Man of MONEY,”--pursued the Goblin--“And with all the MONEY -you possess will you think of POVERTY? Of the thousands and thousands -of human beings made of the same flesh and blood as yourself, who -perish every year for lack of food? Of infants starving? Of patient -genius, toiling for mere pence? Of delicate women working their lives -away in order to provide sustenance for their children? Will you -think of all these, and help them when you can?--not grudgingly, nor -patronisingly,--but with a full heart and a generous spirit?” - -Faintly as a bride at the altar, McNason murmured “I will!” - -“You are a Man of Luxury,”--went on the Goblin--“Will you think of -CRIME? Of the woeful sins which wretched men are driven to commit -through want and misery? Of the prisons, crowded with branded human -creatures, who in nine cases out of ten owe their guilt to the evil -persuasions of others more cunning, more treacherous and powerful -than themselves! Of unhappy mothers, gone mad with despair, who -have murdered their children rather than see them die of hunger! Of -girls, once innocent,--betrayed, ruined and deserted by the villainy -and cruelty of such devils in the shape of men that even Hell might -close its doors against them! Will you think of CRIME?--and, thinking -of it, will you remember that it is often the sight of a man like -YOU,--over-prosperous, over-proud,--that helps to drive the poor into -the labyrinths of envy, hatred, drink, murder and suicide! Will you -think of CRIME?--and do your best to fight against it with all your -influence, all your power and all your MONEY?” - -And at this juncture the Goblin looked positively terrific. McNason -quailed before its Gorgon eyes, and shivered. - -“I--I will try!” he murmured. - -The Goblin rose on its skeleton toes and lifted its skeleton arms. Its -voice grew loud and shrill. - -“You are a Man of Commerce and Calculation,”--it said--“Will you think -of WAR! Think of nation rising against nation and kingdom against -kingdom! The beginning of sorrows! Think of widows and orphans!--think -of thousands of dying and dead men! Of human blood springing hot to -heaven and clamouring for vengeance! Of burning cities and wrecked -ships! Hark! Listen to the rush of waters and the roll of guns!” - -And now, as the Goblin spoke, there came a distant booming sound upon -the air, mingled with the measured tramp of many marching feet, and -hundreds of male voices strongly uplifted in defiant chorus: - - “WE sweep the seas! - Our glorious flag unfurl’d - From North to South, from East to West - Shines o’er the world! - Our cannon’s bellowing thunder - Roars with the roaring waves-- - For Britain’s foes wild ocean holds - Nothing but graves! - - “WE sweep the seas!-- - On waters far and near - Our signals flash, and write in fire - OUR meanings clear! - No other land, no other race - Can match our British men!-- - They’ve won a thousand fights before, - They’ll win again! - - “WE sweep the seas!-- - We rule the restless foam! - We struggle not for place or pelf, - We fight for Home! - Loud let the shout of ‘Victory!’ - Ring on the fav’ring breeze,-- - Down with the foe ten fathoms deep! - WE sweep the seas!” - -“War!” said the Goblin, tossing its arms wildly as the sounds died -away,--“War! Accursed, yet triumphant War! Think of it, YOU, with your -millions! _Can_ you, _will_ you think of it without SPECULATING in -the wide-spread misery it involves? Without making more MONEY on the -traffic in blood? Without lending yourself and your wealth to wicked -Contracts by which you steal from your Country’s government and line -your own pockets? _Can_ you be true to the land in which you live? -_Can_ you,--_will_ you boldly refuse to sell material assistance for -your own personal advantage to your Country’s foes?” - -Lashed into a fit of nervous desperation McNason almost shouted: - -“I can! I can! And I will!” - -Whereupon the Goblin put on its conical cap. - -“You are coming round, McNason!” it observed encouragingly--“You -are really coming round! I think you are better! Your temperature -is lower--nearer the normal Principle! Principle is an excellent -pulse--it’s firm and steady, and keeps the whole body going -wholesomely! Very few have it nowadays, and as a natural consequence -the statistics of insane and diseased persons show an alarming -increase! Now,”--this with an oblique but not unfriendly leer--“Are you -sure you feel well enough to go home?” - -“Sure--sure!”--and Josiah began to scramble out of bed in his -excitement--“I’ll get my clothes on in a minute----” - -“Won’t you wait for Nurse Drat-Em-All?” suggested the Goblin with a -chuckle, “She’ll be back directly!” - -“No--no--NO!” Here his voice faltered and died away as he discovered to -his terror that he had no power to put his feet to the floor, nor could -he reach his clothes. “Oh, I am so helpless!” he wailed--“So feeble and -helpless! Oh dear, oh dear! What shall I do!” - -“Have a split soda!” said the Goblin--“In this dear sweet ‘Home’ it’s -only sixpence! But if you put a B in it, it’s two shillings!” - -Half mad with impatience, Josiah wriggled about in the bed, turning his -imploring eyes on the relentless Goblin, who, perched on the quilt, was -beginning to elongate itself in the most leisurely manner. - -“I suppose you want to keep Christmas now!” it remarked presently--“And -you’re in a hurry to begin. Is that it?” - -“Yes--yes, that’s it!” stuttered Josiah, “You’ll take me, won’t -you--you’ll take me----” - -The Goblin waved its claw. And in another instant Josiah McNason stood -erect, fully clothed, gazing fearfully up--up, ever so high at the -indescribable face and form which now loomed like a monstrous bat above -him. So tall had it suddenly grown and so thin,--so terrible were its -goggle eyes,--so enigmatical its wide grin, that anxious as he was to -depart from his present place of torture, he shook like a leaf in a -stiff breeze at the prospect of another “airship” voyage with such a -fearsome skipper of the winds. - -“One Timothy Two!” said the Goblin,--and its voice seemed to fall -from some magic pinnacle reared miles above the clouds--“One Timothy -Two! Grace, Mercy, Peace! Time to keep Christmas! Christmas Day and -Christmas Bells! Come along! Come along! Home for the holidays! Off we -go!” - -Stooping forward like a giant Cloud from the sky, the Goblin whisked -off the shrinking, shuddering millionaire as easily as a gust of wind -whisks off the broken branch of a tree, and spreading its great wings, -whirled with a wild “Hoo-roo-oo-oo!” out into the starry spaces of the -night. - - * * * * * - -Now came soft pauses of silence,--flashing gleams of colour like -broken rainbows floating at will through the pure ether,--glimpses -of clear sky wherein the greater planets shone gloriously, resembling -revolving lights set in the watch-towers of Heaven,--straying films of -pearly vapour through which the moon peered fitfully with a doubtful -brilliancy--then lo! the dear familiar Earth, lifting its dark rim -against the pale blue reaches of the morning--and then the Sun! Warm -with its golden heart’s effulgence, the splendid Orb of life and health -and beauty rose in a flood of glory over the mountain-tops and over -the seas,--spreading radiance on the wintry fields,--illumining the -leafless trees,--and deepening to a more vivid scarlet the berries of -the thick green holly, and the dainty feathers on the breasts of the -robins. And the Bells!--oh, the Bells! How they rang!--how they sang in -all the turrets and steeples of every church that lifted its shining -spire to the sunshine! “Peace--Good--will--! Peace--Good--will!” -they seemed to say over and over again with such a gladness and a -thankfulness in their soft chiming as made the heart grow full of -tenderness and tears! And now, all suddenly, a tremulous little chorus -of small fresh voices began to mingle with the Bells’ sweet tune-- - - “God rest you, merry gentlemen! - Let nothing you dismay! - Remember Christ our Saviour - Was born on Christmas Day!” - -Then came a pause,--a murmur--and again the quaint old melody began-- - - “God rest you, merry gentlemen! - Let nothing you dismay!----” - -Uttering a smothered cry, Josiah McNason started to his feet. -What--what was this? Where was he? Wildly he stared about him--and then -with a kind of hysterical shout, recognised his surroundings. - -“I’m at home!” he cried--“At home! In my own house! In my own room! -Thank God!” - -Pressing his hands to his forehead he gazed bewilderedly at every -familiar object. There was his desk--his armchair,--(he seemed to have -just sprung out of that chair)--the fireplace, where now there was no -fire but only a heap of white ashes in the grate--the telephone--ah, -that telephone!--his papers, books, letters, ink, pens--ledgers--and a -cheque-book,... On this last object his eyes rested meditatively. - -“It was a dream!” he muttered--“A horrible, horrible dream! Nothing -else! It was a Dream!” - -“It WASN’T!” - -The answer came sharply and with remarkable emphasis. - -Josiah trembled violently. He was not yet alone then? A sudden thought -struck him, and a light came into his eyes--a light new and strange, -that gave them quite a youthful sparkle. - -“At any rate,”--he said--“I’ll be before Pitt this time! I’ll--I’ll cut -him out!” - -And sitting down at his desk, he drew pen and paper to his aid, and -wrote the following-- - - “My dear Sir,--I am exceedingly sorry to hear of your precarious - condition of health, especially when I recall the strength and - activity which used to distinguish you so greatly at one time when - you did such excellent work for the firm. I understand from my - overseer, Mr. Pitt, that a couple of hundred pounds will be useful - to you at this particular juncture, and I have much pleasure in - enclosing you a cheque for that amount as a slight testimony of - my great appreciation of your former faithful services. Trusting - you will pull through your illness, and assuring you of the great - satisfaction it gives me to be of assistance to you in a time of - need, believe me, with best wishes for a pleasant Christmas, - - “Yours obliged and sincerely. - “JOSIAH MCNASON.” - - -Taking his cheque-book, he wrote the required formula, that Two Hundred -Pounds (200_l._) should be paid to William Dove “or order,” and signed -his name “Josiah McNason” with a free proud dash under the signature -that made it even more characteristic than usual. Putting letter and -cheque in an envelope, he sealed and addressed it to “William Dove, -Esq.,” and enclosed the whole packet in another envelope with a few -words addressed to Mr. Pitt. - -“I think,”--he said then, with a bland, almost smiling air--“that will -do for Mr. Pitt! Mr. Pitt will find himself out of court this time!” - -He got up from his desk and stood irresolute. Then he rang his bell. - -“This must be taken by special messenger,”--he said--“There’s no late -post on Christmas Day!” - -He smiled, and rubbed his hands. At that instant the door opened, and -his servant Towler appeared, with a pale, rather scared face. - -“Good-morning, Towler!” - -“Good-morning, sir! Glad to see you well, sir!” - -“Glad to see me well! Have I been ill, then?” - -“No, sir I--at least I hope not, sir! But I went to call you at seven -o’clock, as you told me, sir, and you weren’t in your room, and your -bed hadn’t been slept in--and--I--er--didn’t know what to think, sir! I -didn’t dare to come in here!” - -“I was busy,”--said Josiah, calmly--“Very busy!--tremendously busy all -night! What time is it now?” - -“Nine o’clock, sir!” - -“And it’s Christmas Day, isn’t it?” - -“Yessir!” - -“Here’s a sovereign for you,”--and McNason handed that coin to his -astonished retainer--“And just get someone to take this letter to Mr. -Pitt’s house at once. It’s important.” - -“Yessir! Certainly, sir! Thank-you, sir! A Merry Christmas to you, sir!” - -“Thank-you! Same to you!” - -Backing deferentially out of his master’s presence, Towler ran -downstairs as fast as he could into the servants’ hall, there -announcing that “Something’s happened to the Governor! He’s too -pleasant to last!” - -And McNason, still standing thoughtfully by his desk, repeated again in -an undertone: - -“It was a Dream! It must have been a Dream!” - -“It WASN’T!” And a shrill falsetto voice rang clear on the silence. -“Hoo-roo--oo--oo! Don’t you dare to call ME a Dream!” - -And with a violent shock of renewed terror McNason saw, poised between -him and the sunlight which poured through the windows, the Goblin, -shrunk in size to the smallest quaintest creature possible, holding -over its strangely shaped head a sprig of holly, exactly as a man holds -an open umbrella. - -“I’m going!” it said--“But don’t you be such a fool as to think -yourself a Something and me a Nothing! You’ll make an awful mistake if -you do!” - -“I’m sorry!” said McNason, humbly--“I don’t want to make any more -mistakes----” - -“You’d better not!” said the Goblin, and its form began to grow more -vague and indistinct--“You’ve got the chance you asked for--but if you -lose it now----” - -“I won’t!” - -“What you would like to think was only a Dream, is a Supernatural -Reality!” went on the Goblin; “It has all happened, or it _will_ happen -if you don’t take care! If your mind breeds disease, so will your -body,--and Sir Slasher will have to be called in! And if he’s once -called in, YOU will be called OUT!” - -McNason shuddered,--but was silent. - -“You’ve begun to keep Christmas in the proper way for the first time in -your life,”--and the Goblin’s voice grew fainter and fainter--“But if -you don’t go on keeping it!----” - -“I will!” cried Josiah, eagerly--“I will!” - -“In the spirit of One Timothy Two?” - -“I will!” - -“Grace--mercy--peace!” - -The words floated on the air like a breath--and then, the Goblin turned -its back and began to trot slowly away under its holly sunshade. -Smaller and smaller it grew, till it looked no bigger than a tiny -Christmas doll on a Christmas tree. And then all at once a shining -tangle of golden curls and a glitter of sparkling eyes flashed against -the window--a semi-circle of children pressed their round rosy faces -close to the panes, and again began to sing: - - “God rest you, merry Gentlemen! - Let nothing you dismay! - Remember Christ our Saviour - Was born on Christmas Day!” - -Whereat the great Josiah McNason, multi-millionaire, laughed,--actually -laughed! Going to the window he threw it open, and putting a hand into -his pocket, he took out a bunch of silver. - -“Hullo, youngsters!” he cried--“Christmas morning, eh? Here you are!” - -Out flew threepences, sixpences and shillings in a shower. - -“Fair play!” he exclaimed--“Equal profits! Don’t trample one on -the other! Girls first, boys next! The strong must help the weak! -That’s right!--all good friends together--all happy! No envy, no -jealousy,--all peace and goodwill! A Merry Christmas!” - -“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” shouted the astonished children, -as, jumping for joy, they gathered up their gifts. - -“Merry Christmas!” lisped a small boy with a flaxen head, sturdily -clambering up to the window from the lawn a couple of feet below, and -looking boldly in the face of the world’s celebrated Rich Man;--“God -Bless You!” - -And the Rich Man answered gently: - -“God bless you, little man!” - -Then the whole group of young folks, determined to do the best they -could for what they had received, burst out again in lusty chorus: - - “God rest you, merry Gentle Man! - Let nothing you dismay! - Remember Christ our Saviour - Was born on Christmas Day!” - -And Josiah McNason, listening quietly, while the old carol was -sung through, saw, as he gazed beyond the children’s faces into -the Christmas morning sunshine, a tiny Shape slowly disappearing -into space--a Shape so delicate as to seem no more than one of the -sunbeams,--while a voice, fine and far, yet clear as a flute said: - -“Remember!” - -“I will!” he answered, under his breath. - -“In the spirit of One Timothy Two, good-bye!” whispered the -Goblin--“Grace--Mercy--Peace!” - -“And Christmas Day!” said Josiah--“I shall remember!” - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRANGE VISITATION *** - -***** This file should be named 64152-0.txt or 64152-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/1/5/64152/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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