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diff --git a/old/64152-h/64152-h.htm b/old/64152-h/64152-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 7678a9a..0000000 --- a/old/64152-h/64152-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5559 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Strange Visitation, by Marie Corelli—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} -div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} - - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} - -@media handheld -{ - hr.chap { display: none; visibility: hidden; } -} - - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} - - -.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} -.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; -} - -p.drop-cap { - text-indent: -0.5em; -} - -p.drop-cap:first-letter -{ - float: left; - margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em; - font-size: 250%; - line-height:0.55em; - text-indent: 0em; -} -@media handheld -{ - p.drop-cap { - text-indent: 0em; - } - p.drop-cap:first-letter - { - float: none; - margin: 0; - font-size: 100%; - } -} - - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.xxlarge {font-size: 175%;} -.xlarge {font-size: 150%;} -.large {font-size: 125%;} - -.indentright {margin-right: 5em;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -.gap {padding-left: 1em;} -.gap2 {padding-left: 6em;} - -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} -.poetry .indent {text-indent: 1.5em;} -.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: 2.65em;} -.poetry .indent3 {text-indent: 3em;} -.poetry .first {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 2.6em;} - -@media handheld, print { .poetry {display: block;} } - - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; - padding: 1em 1em 1em 1em; - margin-bottom: 5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Strange Visitation, by Marie Corelli</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Strange Visitation</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Marie Corelli</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 28, 2020 [eBook #64152]</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>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.)</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRANGE VISITATION ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" width="40%" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h1>THE STRANGE VISITATION</h1> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<p><span class="xlarge">THE</span><br /> - -<span class="xxlarge">STRANGE VISITATION</span></p> - -<p><small>BY</small><br /> - -<span class="xlarge">MARIE CORELLI</span><br /> - -<small>AUTHOR OF “THE LIFE EVERLASTING” “THELMA” “HOLY<br /> -ORDERS” “THE SORROWS OF SATAN” ETC. ETC.</small></p> - - -<p><span class="large">HODDER AND STOUGHTON</span><br /> -LONDON<span class="gap"> NEW YORK</span><span class="gap"> TORONTO</span></p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> -</div> - -<p class="ph1"><small>THE</small><br /> -STRANGE VISITATION</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span> -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:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent2">“No war or battle’s sound</div> -<div class="indent3">Was heard the world around,</div> -<div class="verse">The idle spear and shield were high up hung;</div> -<div class="indent3">The unhookèd chariot stood</div> -<div class="indent3">Unstain’d with hostile blood,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> -<div class="verse">The trumpet spake not to the armèd throng;</div> -<div class="indent3">And kings sat still with awful eye</div> -<div class="verse">As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent2">“And peaceful was the night</div> -<div class="indent3">Wherein the Prince of Light</div> -<div class="verse">His reign of peace upon the earth began;</div> -<div class="indent3">The winds, with wonder whist,</div> -<div class="indent3">Smoothly the waters kist,</div> -<div class="verse">Whisp’ring new joys to the mild oceàn,</div> -<div class="indent3">Who now hath quite forgot to rave,</div> -<div class="verse">While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave!”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> -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!</p> - -<p>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”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“Ever ’gainst that season comes</div> -<div class="verse">Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated,</div> -<div class="verse">The bird of dawning singeth all night long,</div> -<div class="verse">And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad;</div> -<div class="verse">The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,</div> -<div class="verse">No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,</div> -<div class="verse">So hallow’d and so gracious is the time!”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Anybody called, Towler?”</p> - -<p>“Yessir. Mr. Pitt.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Pitt? Dear me! I saw him only -this morning at the office. What did he -want?”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t say, sir. He is waiting to -see you.”</p> - -<p>“Waiting? Here—at this hour?”</p> - -<p>“Yessir. In the library.”</p> - -<p>With a frown of irritation, the great -Josiah threw off his sable-lined overcoat, -which was received obsequiously by one of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Well, Pitt, what’s the matter? Anything -gone wrong since this morning?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir. Nothing.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! Then what are you here for at such -an hour and in such weather, eh?”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -a strictly business point of view was, that -he had some vestiges of a heart. These -vestiges were troubling him a little just -now.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Neither can I!” and Josiah smiled a -hard smile—“Whatever it is, if <i>you</i> forgot -it, it cannot be of much importance!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Pitt did not seem to perceive the -implied compliment to himself.</p> - -<p>“Well, perhaps not,”—he answered -slowly,—“still I should blame myself if I -neglected it—I should certainly blame myself——”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“It’s—it’s about Willie Dove, sir——” -he said.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span>McNason looked up with peering eyes -that narrowed at the corners like those of -a snake.</p> - -<p>“Willie Dove!” he echoed, slowly. -“H’m—h’m—let me see! Who is Willie -Dove?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Was he?” And McNason smiled -blandly, but indifferently.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Quite right of him!” interpolated<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> -McNason,—“He did his duty, no doubt, -and was paid for doing it. Well?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I thought—I fancied you might perhaps -be interested,” he murmured.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> -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——”</p> - -<p>“Well, if he wants to live, why doesn’t -he?” inquired McNason, lazily.</p> - -<p>“Simply because he can’t afford it,” -replied Pitt, bluntly.</p> - -<p>The great millionaire took up a poker, and -looking critically at the fire, broke a large -gaseous lump of coal into a bright blaze.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Well, that settles it,” he said. -“Then I suppose he must, as the common -folk say, ‘go home’!”</p> - -<p>A sparkle of indignation lightened Mr. -Pitt’s quiet grey eyes. But he restrained -his feelings.</p> - -<p>“The operation fee would be a hundred<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Pitt looked at his employer steadily.</p> - -<p>“Have you any cause of complaint or -offence against Dove, sir?”</p> - -<p>McNason met his inquiring eyes with his -own special gimlet glance, sharp as the -point of a screw.</p> - -<p>“None! Not the least in the world! -Why should I? I scarcely remember the -man!”</p> - -<p>“Well, if you have nothing against him, -would you not perhaps be inclined to help -him? The claims of your business are, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> -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——”</p> - -<p>“Did he send you to beg of me?” asked -McNason with a kind of vicious abruptness.</p> - -<p>Mr. Pitt’s pale face flushed a little.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>give</i> it! Two hundred pounds is -no more to you than two hundred pence<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> -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——”</p> - -<p>McNason smiled a smile resembling the -death-grin of the fabulous dragon of St. -George.</p> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span>“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’!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Pitt gave an unconscious gesture of -physical repulsion.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>But Pitt still hesitated.</p> - -<p>“It is Christmas Eve, sir,——” he began, -falteringly.</p> - -<p>“It is. I have been reminded of that -fact several times to-day. What of it?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, sir, except—except—that it -is a time of year when everyone tries to do<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> -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——”</p> - -<p>He paused. The millionaire had half -risen from his chair, and was gripping its -cushioned elbows hard with both hands.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> -to get money out of me! Because it is -Christmas Eve? Curse Christmas Eve!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> -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! <i>You</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span>The door opened and closed softly. He -was gone.</p> - -<p>McNason looked after him with a frown.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Towler!”</p> - -<p>“Yessir!”</p> - -<p>“I shall want nothing more to-night. -You can go to bed.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, sir!”</p> - -<p>“Wake me at seven to-morrow morning.”</p> - -<p>“Yessir! To-morrow’s Christmas Day, -sir.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what’s that to me?”</p> - -<p>“Beg pardon, sir! Thought you might -like to sleep a little later, sir.”</p> - -<p>Josiah gazed at him grimly.</p> - -<p>“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?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, sir. Yessir. Seven o’clock, -sir!”</p> - -<p>“Seven o’clock, sharp!” And McNason’s -thin lips closed upon the word “sharp” -like the lid of a spring matchbox.</p> - -<p>Thereupon Towler backed deferentially -towards the door.</p> - -<p>“Good-night, sir. Merry Christmas, -sir!”</p> - -<p>And with this salutation,—which, offered -to a person so distinctly removed from -merriment as was his master, seemed almost -a satire,—he disappeared.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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-<span class="allsmcap">TING-TING</span>!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span>“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!”</p> - -<p>He soon had his ear to the receiver, and -a small, shrill and quite unfamiliar voice -came sharply across the wire.</p> - -<p>“Hello!”</p> - -<p>“Hello!” he rejoined.</p> - -<p>“Hell-oh! McNason! Are you there?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I’m here. Who are you?”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I am! Going to bed.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span>“Oh! Don’t go to bed! Hell-oh! -McNason, don’t go to bed! I want you!”</p> - -<p>“Want me? What for?”</p> - -<p>Again the broken laughter quavered along -the wire in uncanny snatches.</p> - -<p>“On business! Very important! Government -loan! No delay! Great chance -for you! Peerage! Christmas Eve! Don’t -go to bed!”</p> - -<p>Josiah’s temper rose. He put his mouth -to the transmitter and spoke softly, deliberately -and with concentrated viciousness.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span>Josiah began to feel desperate.</p> - -<p>“Hello!” he called.</p> - -<p>“Hell-oh!” was the prompt response.</p> - -<p>“What’s your name?”</p> - -<p>“Tell you when I see you! Hand you -my card!”</p> - -<p>“Hello! Can you hear what I say?”</p> - -<p>“As plain as a penny whistle!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Utterly mystified, McNason fell back<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“That’s better!” he remarked approvingly, -half aloud, “That looks cheerful!”</p> - -<p>“So it does!” said a shrill voice at his -ear,—the same voice precisely that had just<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> -called to him along his “private wire”—“Quite -cheerful! And Christmassy! As -cheerful and Christmassy as yourself, -McNason!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> -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 -<span class="allsmcap">WHACK</span>!—why then it would surely break -to pieces,—crumble—smash—disappear—!</p> - -<p>“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 -<span class="allsmcap">ME</span>!—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 <i>are</i> you? -You’re looking a bit lantern-jawed,—not -very well preserved! I’ve seen finer men -than you at your age!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span>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—</p> - -<p>“Who the —— are you?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -owing to the constant jumping up and down -of the inscribed characters, read:</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Professor Goblin</span>,<br /> -<span class="gap2">Hell’s United Empire Club.</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“The title of ‘Professor’ isn’t really -mine,”—explained the Creature, blinking at -him with its owl-like orbs—“I took it.”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span>“Lots of fellows do it,”—observed the -Goblin, after a brief pause.</p> - -<p>Some compelling influence forced the -panic-stricken millionaire to speak—to reply—in -fact to keep up conversation, whether -he liked it or not.</p> - -<p>“Lots of fellows do what?” he murmured -feebly, still holding one hand over his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Call themselves Professors when they’re -not,”—said the Goblin.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“When I rang you up on the telephone -just now,”—resumed the Goblin—</p> - -<p>But at this McNason jumped in his chair -and uncovered his eyes.</p> - -<p>“<i>You</i> rang me up?—you—you—!” he -stammered.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span>“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!”</p> - -<p>McNason felt the muscles of his back -stiffening in horror.</p> - -<p>“You would?—you would——?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> -of money for telling their fortunes which -neither he nor anybody knows! Hoo-roo! -Hoo-roo! What humbugs there are in the -world, McNason! <i>You</i> know that! You’re -one!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not!” said Josiah, indignantly, -aroused to sudden defiance. “How dare -you say I am!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>Gathering up his courage under this -volley of abuse McNason turned round in -his chair and deliberately faced his accuser.</p> - -<p>“You’re a Bad Dream!” he said slowly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span>—“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——”</p> - -<p>Here he broke off, appalled at the indescribably -hideous grimace with which his -unpleasant companion favoured him.</p> - -<p>“Your brain!” echoed the Goblin. -“<i>Your</i> brain indeed! Pooh! When you -are better! Hoo-roo! You never will be -better—never—not unless <i>I</i> doctor you! -I must sk—k——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span>“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.</p> - -<p>“Now answer me, McNason,” it said, -impressively—“Do you mean to say that -you consider yourself a good man?”</p> - -<p>Josiah looked at his inquisitor with one -eye askew.</p> - -<p>“As good as any man,”—he muttered—“And -better than most!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>McNason hesitated. Then the recollection -of his vast wealth, and of his wide-reaching -business influence flashed across<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> -his mind and filled him with a sudden -spirit of self-assertiveness.</p> - -<p>“I’ve done a good deal in my time,”—he -said, boldly—“For one thing, I’ve -made my own way in the world!”</p> - -<p>“Ah! And without assistance?” queried -the Goblin—“Without trampling any poor -person down? Without ‘sweating’ labour? -Without cheating anybody less ‘sharp’ -than yourself?”</p> - -<p>McNason was silent.</p> - -<p>“You <i>haven’t</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> -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 <span class="allsmcap">WE</span> 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 <i>only</i> and -gets an heir to Money <i>only</i>, 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 <i>can</i> -buy a Peerage! And when he is harsh<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> -and unkind and uncharitable, we sk—k—in -his soul!”</p> - -<p>“I’m <i>not</i> 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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Not charity!” echoed Josiah. “Then -what is charity?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> -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 <i>your</i> charity, -McNason, as Heaven is unlike Hell!”</p> - -<p>“Any devil can quote Scripture!” said -McNason, contemptuously—“I hear all that -in Church!”</p> - -<p>“You hear, but you don’t listen,”—said -the Goblin—“You go to Church every -Sunday?”</p> - -<p>“I do! My clergyman relies very much -on my assistance.”</p> - -<p>“Does he now?” and the Goblin put -its head questioningly on one side—“Financial -assistance, of course?”</p> - -<p>McNason gave a short laugh.</p> - -<p>“That’s the only kind of assistance he -ever asks for!”</p> - -<p>“Good man!” said the Goblin, thoughtfully—“And -you help him?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span>“Very considerably.” Here McNason -drew himself up stiffly with an air of importance—“I’m -a Churchwarden.”</p> - -<p>At this “Professor” Goblin uttered a -frightful yell.</p> - -<p>“Hoo-roo, hoo-roo, <span class="allsmcap">HOO-ROO</span>!” 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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span>“I was once a Churchwarden!” said -the Goblin, beginning to emit a spluttering -laugh from a grimacing mouth—“Oh, hoo-roo! -And I looked <i>so</i> respectable! Tell -me, McNason!—do you wear a top-hat -on Sundays?”</p> - -<p>The shuddering millionaire bent his head -feebly in assent.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> -happy days! Happy humbug days! Gone, -gone, gone! I shall never be a Churchwarden -any more!”</p> - -<p>Here, unravelling its contorted body, it -put its clawlike hands up to its face and -began to weep.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>A clammy perspiration bedewed Josiah’s -brow. That hollow drumming sound was -dreadful!—if the horrible Creature would -only stop it!——</p> - -<p>“Don’t do that!”—he muttered, feebly, -“I—I can’t bear it!”</p> - -<p>“Can’t bear what?” demanded the -Goblin, quite briskly.</p> - -<p>“That sound you make on—on——”</p> - -<p>“On my Tum-Tum? Oh, Beelzebub!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>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!—</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span> -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?</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span>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 <span class="allsmcap">BANG</span>!—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—<span class="allsmcap">FA</span>!—Sol la—si—<span class="allsmcap">DO</span>! -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -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!</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!——”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> -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 <i>we</i> are going! -Hark! How the bells ring! One Timothy -Two! One Timothy Two! Come and ‘sit -under’ good Mr. Firebrand! Come!—come!”</p> - -<p>And with a terrible downward clutch, -the Goblin caught hold of McNason by the -coat-collar.</p> - -<p>“Mercy——mercy!” cried the wretched -man—“Help!—Help!”</p> - -<p>“Help!—help!” shouted the Goblin, -derisively—“One Timothy Two! Come -along, McNason! Come along!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Here we go!” it yelled—“Up we go, -and down we go! Off to Church! <span class="smcap">Me</span> and -the Churchwarden! Oh, hoo-roo, hoo-roo!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> -Christmas Day and Christmas Bells, and a -jolly Christmas altogether! One Timothy -Two! Off we go!”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> -horror was there yet in store for him? -Involuntarily he turned to look for the -Goblin,—even <i>that</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“Well, McNason, how do you feel after -your airship voyage?” it inquired—“A -bit air-sick?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What—what’s that?” he stammered.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Church!—a strong preacher!—a crowded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> -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!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span> -Bells of Christmas,—the Bells of peace and -goodwill! Do, re, mi, <span class="allsmcap">FA</span>!—Sol, la, si—<span class="allsmcap">DO</span>! -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—</p> - -<p>“Firebrand!—Ha ha!”</p> - -<p>“Good old Firebrand!”</p> - -<p>“Order, order! Silence for Firebrand!”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha, <span class="allsmcap">HA</span>! Ha-<span class="allsmcap">HA</span>!”</p> - -<p>“Firebrand! Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“My friends!” it began—“My dear -brethren——!”</p> - -<p>“Ha-<span class="allsmcap">HA</span>! Ha-ha-<span class="allsmcap">HA</span>!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span>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.</p> - -<p>“My friends!” he or It resumed—“How -good it is for us all to be here! What a -sign of regeneration——!”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha-<span class="allsmcap">HA</span>!”</p> - -<p>“Of penitence——”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha!”</p> - -<p>“Of unselfishness and charity——”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha-ha!”</p> - -<p>“Of hope for the future——”</p> - -<p>“Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo!”</p> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> -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 <span class="allsmcap">GOOD</span>!”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha-<span class="allsmcap">HA</span>! Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo!”</p> - -<p>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 <span class="allsmcap">CRASH</span>!—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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="first">“When <span class="allsmcap">WE</span> were ‘good,’ in all the world</div> -<div class="indent">None were so ‘good’ as <span class="allsmcap">WE</span>;</div> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">We</span> thought <span class="allsmcap">OURSELVES</span> the only ones</div> -<div class="indent">Whose souls would savèd <span class="allsmcap">BE</span>!—</div> -<div class="verse">When <span class="allsmcap">WE</span> were ‘good’ our neighbours all</div> -<div class="indent">We found so very <span class="allsmcap">BAD</span>,</div> -<div class="verse">That only <span class="allsmcap">US</span>, and only <span class="allsmcap">WE</span></div> -<div class="indent">Some little Morals <span class="allsmcap">HAD</span>!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="first">“When <span class="allsmcap">WE</span> were ‘good,’ we went to Church,</div> -<div class="indent">That every one might see</div> -<div class="verse">How ‘good’ we were,—much better far</div> -<div class="indent">Than other folks could be!—</div> -<div class="verse">We slandered all our dearest friends,</div> -<div class="indent">Told all the lies we could,</div> -<div class="verse">And chose our own front seats in Heaven,</div> -<div class="indent">Because we were so ‘good’!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="first">“And now we find that other folks</div> -<div class="indent">Whom we thought very <span class="allsmcap">BAD</span>,</div> -<div class="verse">Were better than <span class="allsmcap">OURSELVES</span> at best,</div> -<div class="indent">And <span class="allsmcap">ALL</span> the Morals <span class="allsmcap">HAD</span>!</div> -<div class="verse">And sad to say, we’ve lived to learn,</div> -<div class="indent">That shuffle as we would,</div> -<div class="verse">No <span class="allsmcap">HUMBUG</span> lasts in Heaven or Hell</div> -<div class="indent">Not even—‘<span class="allsmcap">BEING GOOD</span>’!”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Renewed yelping, and “hoo-roos” of -diabolical laughter followed this vocal -effort, and the miserable Josiah McNason<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>his</i> feelings likewise? -Yes—oh yes!—indeed it does!”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-<span class="allsmcap">HA</span>!” shrieked the -Goblins—“Indeed it does! Ha-<span class="allsmcap">HA</span>!”</p> - -<p>“Our Human brother,” went on “Mr. -Firebrand”—“is a ‘good’ man——”</p> - -<p>“Hoo-oo! Hoo-roo!—Hoo—oo!”</p> - -<p>“A ‘good’ man because, my friends, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>“Hoo-roo!—oh—oh—Hoo-roo!”</p> - -<p>And the wild cry had a dismal note in it -this time like the shriek of the wailing -wind.</p> - -<p>“Again, my friends,”—went on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -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 -<span class="allsmcap">WE</span> understand it—as our Human brother -understands it! The Charity which distinguished -<span class="allsmcap">US</span> 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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> -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!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-<span class="allsmcap">HA</span>! Ha-ha-ha-ha!”</p> - -<p>And like twisting boughs of trees in a -storm, the goblins swayed and rocked -themselves to and fro, convulsed with -laughter.</p> - -<p>“I say I was a ‘good’ man!” repeated -the demon preacher, leaning down over the -edge of the green pulpit, and rolling its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> -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——”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha!”</p> - -<p>“<i>And</i> a frock-coat——”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha!”</p> - -<p>“And I went to Church every Sunday——”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha-<span class="smcap">Ha</span>!”</p> - -<p>“I took round the collection-plate——”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha!”</p> - -<p>“And I always put a sixpence into it -myself—never less—never more!”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha-ha! Ha-<span class="smcap">Ha</span>!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Ha-ha-ha!”</p> - -<p>“I never sacrificed my own comfort -or convenience at any time on any account,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -and I never parted with a penny I thought -it better to keep! I was a most respectable -man!”</p> - -<p>“Hoo-roo-oo! Hoo-roo!”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -tiresome little children want holiday treats, -and all the tradesmen send in their bills,—this -wretched, stupid, depressing season -when even <span class="allsmcap">WE</span> are made uncomfortable——”</p> - -<p>“Hoo-oo-oo! Hoo-roo!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Other wailings and groanings of a similar -nature arose in chorus, and even Josiah -McNason’s own particular companion goblin -moaned and blubbered.</p> - -<p>“It <i>is</i> a terrible time!” it whimpered—“A<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> -terrible, terrible time! Everybody -expects everybody else to give them something! -Such a waste and such an expense! -Oh, hoo-roo!”</p> - -<p>Again Josiah essayed to speak,—but his -tongue still refused to utter.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>he</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> -as he wishes to die;—he is making -himself into one of <span class="allsmcap">US</span> 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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> -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——”</p> - -<p>Here the bells suddenly began again, -pealing their chimes with a delicious softness -as though far, far away.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> -entreaties or messages—he will not even -hear the message of the Bells! The Bells!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“The Bells! The Bells!”</p> - -<p>“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 <span class="allsmcap">US</span>!”</p> - -<p>With a tremendous effort, Josiah suddenly -regained his speech.</p> - -<p>“Never!” he cried, with extraordinary -passion—“Never will I be one of You! -Never, so help me God!”</p> - -<p>As he spoke, a sudden terrific roar of -mingled flame and wind sounded in his -ears,—the peacock’s tail of light playing up<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands,—serve -the Lord with gladness and come -before his presence with a song!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span>Here the anthem was taken up by some -mighty invisible choir:</p> - -<p>“Be ye sure that the Lord He is God; -it is He that hath made us and not We -Ourselves——”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Glory! Glory to God in the highest! -And on earth, peace and goodwill! Glory -to God!”</p> - -<p>Stricken with a great awe, Josiah McNason -looked and listened. He trembled violently. -Should he kneel? He wondered! He had -often <i>pretended</i> to kneel in Church—though -he had really only bent his back slightly -for convention’s sake, but now——?</p> - -<p>Before he could make up his mind one -way or the other the Goblin’s clutch<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> -descended once more upon his coat-collar.</p> - -<p>“Come along, McNason!” it whispered, -“We must go now! We’re not wanted -here! Come!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! Leave me alone, for Heaven’s -sake!” muttered Josiah pleadingly—“Let -me stay here! Why take me away?”</p> - -<p>“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! <i>You’re</i> not wanted and <i>I’m</i> not -wanted! One Timothy Two! Off we go!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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 <span class="allsmcap">WE</span> -call a ‘spiritual’ climate,—not affected by -outside conditions!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Once upon a time!” she said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, mother!” cried the boy she clasped, -“That’s the old way of telling a story! -Try some other way!”</p> - -<p>She laughed.</p> - -<p>“Darling, there’s no other way! Everything -was ‘once upon a time’ wasn’t -it?” The little fellow looked up at her -seriously.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think so! You could never -say you were my mother ‘once upon a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> -time,’ could you? You are my mother -always!”</p> - -<p>“Always!” she murmured—“That’s -very true, little man! Your mother -always!”—and her lips moved silently—“On -earth, and, please God, in -Heaven!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Josiah started. A sense of fear and -shame began to tingle through his long-chilled -blood.</p> - -<p>“She is—she——?” he faltered.</p> - -<p>“Exactly! That’s it!” said the Goblin.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> -“She—she <span class="allsmcap">IS</span>! 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 <span class="allsmcap">YOU</span> or -your <span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span>!—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 <span class="allsmcap">CAD</span>,—and she has married a <span class="allsmcap">MAN</span>! 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 <i>that</i> is either!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> -with both his hands, determined to force -it open.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>are</i>, won’t -they be sorry for themselves! Come along, -McNason!”</p> - -<p>But Josiah clung to the garden gate.</p> - -<p>“Lilias! Lilias!” he called.</p> - -<p>But Lilias, laughing, was playing with -her boy’s curls, and neither turned her -head nor raised her eyes. The Goblin -chuckled.</p> - -<p>“Think she can hear you, do you?” it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>“Where to?” cried the miserable man, -“Where in the name of Heaven do you -want to take me next?”</p> - -<p>“You shouldn’t talk about Heaven,”—said -the Goblin, severely—“That’s a ‘supernatural’ -place. I don’t want to take you -<i>there</i>, 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!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> -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 -<i>yearn</i> 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!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Keep your eyes open, McNason!” said -the Goblin—“And your ears! Nobody -sees <span class="allsmcap">YOU</span>, you know, or <span class="allsmcap">ME</span>! We’re invisible. -And if you want to curse and swear, do so -by all means! Nobody hears, and nobody -cares!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Pitt here! How the devil——!”</p> - -<p>“Exactly!” said the Goblin—“How the -devil and why the devil! Only the devil -knows!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Mr. McNason is a man of iron,”—said -Pitt—“There’s no doubt about it! In<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> -fact he’s harder than any metal, for metal -can be made to melt, and he can’t!”</p> - -<p>The man in the invalid chair moved restlessly.</p> - -<p>“Did he remember me at all?—did you -remind him?—” he murmured.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> -voice trembled dangerously, and she -ceased.</p> - -<p>Willie Dove sighed a little wearily.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span>Her husband stroked her bent head with -his thin delicate hand.</p> - -<p>“Don’t cry, Jennie!” he said softly—“I -won’t go away from you! I’d rather die!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Pitt coughed obstreperously.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span>There followed a silence. Presently Pitt -spoke again in determined accents.</p> - -<p>“I tell you what it is, Dove,” he said, -“<i>I’ll</i> lend you the money!”</p> - -<p>Dove started.</p> - -<p>“<i>You</i>, Mr. Pitt?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> -a poor thing at best, for you see I can’t <i>give</i> -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——”</p> - -<p>And now Mrs. Dove, rising gently from her -knees, came up to him and laid her hand on -his arm.</p> - -<p>“God bless you, Mr. Pitt!” she said, in -clear sweet tones—“He <i>will</i> 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——”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>is</i> Christmas Day!”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>Pitt here drew a chair to the fire opposite -the sick man and sat down.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>The Goblin chuckled, and gave Josiah a -nudge with its sharp elbow.</p> - -<p>“Hear that, McNason!” it said—“It’ll -do you good to learn what other folks think -of you!”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>Again the Goblin nudged Josiah’s arm -and its fiery eyes glowed with railway-signal -brilliancy.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> -naturally a break-down must come -sooner or later——”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What a stormy night!” she said—“Not -at all a peaceful Christmas!”</p> - -<p>Her husband, lying restfully back in his -chair, smiled at her.</p> - -<p>“The peace must be in our hearts, -Jennie!” he said—“If we don’t keep -Christmas <i>there</i>, it’s no Christmas at all! -Storm or calm, it’s a blessed time!—a time -of thanksgiving—a time of hope!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>They all laughed, and Mrs. Dove set the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> -wine and glasses on the table. Mr. Pitt -poured out the ruby-red cordial, and raising -his own glass to his lips said:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Brother ‘Firebrand’ was quite right, -you see!” it remarked—“Soon, very soon, -you will be one of <span class="allsmcap">US</span>! <span class="smcap">We</span> 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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> -happy! Because you will have reaped the -just reward of your labours, and you will -be exactly what you have made of <span class="allsmcap">YOURSELF</span>! -Nothing could be more satisfactory! -Listen! Willie Dove is talking about you -now!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> -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——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>our</i> 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 <i>us</i>, we mustn’t be -hard upon <i>him</i>! That wouldn’t be keeping -Christmas rightly!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span>At this Josiah turned and flung himself -desperately against the Goblin’s paunch.</p> - -<p>“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—<span class="allsmcap">QUICK</span>!”</p> - -<p>“‘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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> -refuse to help those who have helped -<i>you</i>, you are punished! You are, really! -And a good sound flogging you get, I -can tell you! Oh Beelzebub!—don’t <i>I</i> -know this! When I was a Churchwarden——”</p> - -<p>“<i>Will</i> you do as I ask you?” implored -Josiah, desperately, “Get me out of this! -I want to go home!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“No, no!” gasped the trembling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> -millionaire—“Let me get home! Give me -a chance to—to——”</p> - -<p>His voice gurgled away into a faint -tremolo.</p> - -<p>“Chance! You’ve had a thousand -chances!” retorted the Goblin, scornfully, -“And you’ve thrown them all away! -Now you’re asking for <i>one</i> 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! <span class="smcap">You</span> and -such men as <span class="allsmcap">YOU</span>—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 <i>are</i> a ‘churchwarden.’ Oh, -hoo-roo, hoo-roo! Come in the spirit of -One Timothy Two! Come!—come! -<span class="smcap">Come!</span>”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span>“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!”</p> - -<p>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——!</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">And because iniquity shall abound, -the love of many shall wax cold!</span>”</p> - -<p>He trembled. His eyes were dim,—but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> -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?</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> -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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“Despised and Rejected! Love, Divine -and Human, Love, Perfect and Eternal! -Despised and Rejected! Even <span class="allsmcap">NOW</span>!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span> -Abbey, he felt that he must cry out -wildly:—</p> - -<p>“Look—look! Kneel down and pray! -Entreat Him not to leave us, for if He goes, -why should we remain!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Dull place, Westminster Abbey!” it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> -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 <i>your</i> old wrinkles -turning into them!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Here’s my sermon in full,”—he said—“I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>The reporter—for such he was—smiled.</p> - -<p>“You are not afraid of your Archbishop?” -he said.</p> - -<p>The Atheist-Preacher laughed.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span>“That man ought to be put out of the -Church!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“I <i>have</i> pretended——!” said McNason, -humbly.</p> - -<p>The Goblin looked at him, and closed -one round eye in a most horrible and -portentous wink.</p> - -<p>“I see!” it observed—“You’re preparing -to make a good end! You’re like the -Naughty Duchess! Oh, hoo-roo! What -a character <i>she</i> was! She went the pace -as hard as ever she could till she was quite<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Tick-tock! Tick-tock! Only two thousand -years by the Spirit’s clock!” it said.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>And now the Goblin waved its spidery -arms.</p> - -<p>“Ask him,” it said—“what has become -of London!”</p> - -<p>Obediently McNason put the question. -The shepherd turned upon him a young -wondering face.</p> - -<p>“London!” he echoed. Then he smiled. -“Oh yes, I think I know what you mean! -There <i>was</i> a city of that name somewhere -about here once, but I don’t know exactly -where! There’s nothing of it left now!”</p> - -<p>“Nothing!” exclaimed McNason, aghast.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>Once more Josiah fell on his knees.</p> - -<p>“Spare me!” he cried—“Spare me! -Surely I have suffered enough!”</p> - -<p>“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 <i>feel</i>! You hard old scoundrel! -<i>You</i> talk of suffering!—why, you have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> -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 <i>you</i> quote Shakespeare, do -you? And the Bible! Oh hoo-roo! Come -along! Time’s up, I tell you! And we’re<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> -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!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Here we are in a happy ‘Home,’ -McNason!” it chuckled softly in his ear—“Don’t -worry! Don’t agitate yourself!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> -Keep quiet calm! You will have every -possible attention!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What—what’s this?” he stammered—“What -are you going to do to me?”</p> - -<p>“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 <span class="allsmcap">THEY</span>!—<span class="allsmcap">THEY</span> are going to do something -to you,—but all for your good!—oh, -hoo-roo—all for your good!”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">They!</span> Who were <span class="allsmcap">THEY</span>? With painful -hesitation Josiah turned his eyes round<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Something’s gone wrong with the Works, -McNason!” said the Goblin, confidentially, -“That’s what’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>“Works?” And McNason’s troubled -mind immediately reverted to his huge -factories—“What works?”</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Your</span> 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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> -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 <span class="allsmcap">YOU</span> 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!”</p> - -<p>McNason heard, and in an instant became -a prey to the most violent access of nervous -horror.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> -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?”</p> - -<p>“You <i>will</i> 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 <i>because</i> you’re ill! -‘To this complexion must we come at last’! -Oh Beelzebub! They don’t know whether -it’s cancer or appendicitis with <span class="allsmcap">YOU</span>!”</p> - -<p>“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——!”</p> - -<p>Here exhausted, he sank back on his hard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> -pillow impotently clenching his hands in a -paroxysm of rage and fear.</p> - -<p>The Goblin grinned.</p> - -<p>“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 <i>merely</i> -intellectual and scientific persons! Now -about your case——”</p> - -<p>“I’ve <i>no</i> case!” groaned the wretched -millionaire—“No case at all——”</p> - -<p>“You <i>are</i> a case!” declared the Goblin—“A -whole case in yourself! A case of a man<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> -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 <i>are</i> 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!—<i>your</i> cancer’s on the mind!—and -they’ll never cut <i>that</i> out! But they’re -going to have a good try!”</p> - -<p>Josiah moaned helplessly.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> -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 <span class="allsmcap">YOU</span>! You’re a splendid -subject for him, you know! You’ve -got so much <span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span>!”</p> - -<p>Again Josiah moaned in a stupor of fear.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got so much <span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span>!” repeated -the Goblin, smacking its wide lips as though -it were tasting something savoury,—“And -<span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span>’s a great thing! <span class="smcap">Money</span> has enabled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>At this moment, the personage whom the -Goblin designated as Sir Slasher-Cut-Em-Up -finished his conversation with his younger<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span> -colleague, and both gentlemen smiled pleasantly, -not to say flirtatiously, at the grey-gowned -nurse.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not asleep!”—gurgled McNason, -feebly.</p> - -<p>But Sir Slasher apparently did not hear. -He stood by the bedside, smiling blandly, -his hands clasped behind him under his -coat-tails.</p> - -<p>“One of the richest men in the world!” -he ejaculated, appreciatively—“Dear me, -dear me! Ah well, well! Has he any -family?”</p> - -<p>“None,”—said Nurse Drat-Em-All—“He -had one son, I believe, who died in childhood.”</p> - -<p>She spoke primly, her lips opening and shutting -on her words like a kind of mechanical<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> -valve. But while she spoke she flashed -her eyes at the younger doctor with a feline -cajolery in their hard brown depths.</p> - -<p>“Then who,” murmured Sir Slasher, -thoughtfully—“Who is to carry on his vast -business concerns? Who is to inherit his -enormous fortune?”</p> - -<p>No answer was forthcoming to this profound -proposition.</p> - -<p>Sir Slasher thereupon removed his hands -from under his coat-tails, and consulted his -watch.</p> - -<p>“I must be going,”—he said—“You will -attend to all that is necessary, Nurse?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Sir Slasher!”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span> -our best anæsthetists—what do you say, -Nurse?”</p> - -<p>Sir Slasher had a delightful smile, and -he was smiling delightfully now. Nurse -Drat-Em-All responded to the charm of -it.</p> - -<p>“There is no doubt that it is justifiably -a case of double fees all round!” she said, -her own smile breaking into a giggle.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Ah!—afterwards!” echoed the younger -doctor, speaking for the first time.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span>Sir Slasher tried to look grave, but failed -in the attempt.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Quite right—quite right!” murmured -Sir Slasher—“But prepare him gently—quite -gently, Nurse! By degrees—and -cautiously! I <i>have</i> known cases where -patients, getting too much alarmed, have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>“Then why not spare the knife and let -him live as long as Nature will allow him?” -asked the younger doctor suddenly.</p> - -<p>Sir Slasher looked amazed and reproachful.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Sorry I can’t oblige you!” replied the -Goblin—“I can’t leave you alone till you -leave <span class="allsmcap">YOURSELF</span> 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!”</p> - -<p>McNason peered over the extreme edge -of the bed-quilt.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span>“A lot of things to do to me?” he -echoed, whimperingly—“What—what will -she do?”</p> - -<p>“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—<i>outside</i> you!”</p> - -<p>Josiah closed his eyes shudderingly.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“No—no!” cried McNason—“I’m not -ill!—and I’m not ready—!”</p> - -<p>“You <i>are</i> ill!” declared the Goblin, -firmly—“And never mind about not being -ready for your end. Nurse Drat-Em-All -will <i>make</i> you ready! She’ll tell you what -a very serious and expensive matter it will -be to slice you up scientifically to-morrow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span>—and -she will ask you where your cheque -book is——”</p> - -<p>“I won’t tell her—I won’t—” stuttered -McNason.</p> - -<p>“Oh yes, you will! <i>She’ll</i> 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——”</p> - -<p>Here the Goblin paused. Josiah raised -himself up on his hard pillow and looked -at it with appealing eyes.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span> -‘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 <span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span> instead! And <span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span> -before Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up arrives to-morrow—candles -burning all round you and -wreaths on your coffin,—it’s all done for -<span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span>!—and you can have a most expensive -funeral,—a beautiful mausoleum,—a -marble monument and a lying Epitaph! -All for <span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span>! <span class="smcap">Money’s</span> a great thing, -McNason!—and you’ve got it! Oh Beelzebub! -You’ve got it! But you’ve got -nothing else!”</p> - -<p>At this juncture McNason suddenly sat -up in bed.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have!” he said, with a kind of -trembling eagerness—“I’ve got something -else! I’ve got <span class="allsmcap">YOU</span>! And I want—I want -to make a friend of <span class="allsmcap">YOU</span>!”</p> - -<p>The Goblin opened its round eyes so wide -that they threatened to fall out.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you do, do you?” it queried -doubtfully—“That’s odd! Now what put -that into your head?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know—I don’t know!” stammered -McNason agitatedly—“But I think——I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Take you home!” it echoed—“What! -Before Nurse Drat-Em-All comes back?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—yes!” and Josiah wrung his -hands imploringly; “Take me away at -once——!”</p> - -<p>“But you’re ill!” said the Goblin—“You’re -very ill!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not!”</p> - -<p>“You <span class="allsmcap">ARE</span>! You’ve got a cancer!”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t!”</p> - -<p>“You <span class="allsmcap">HAVE</span>! It’s called Selfishness! -It is eating your life away,—poisoning your -blood—rotting your Soul!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span>“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!”</p> - -<p>“You’re feverish too!” continued the -Goblin, severely. “Your temperature has -gone up to the very highest point of -Fraudulent Philanthropy!”</p> - -<p>“I know—I know!—but it will be all -right!—only let me get home, and you -shall see—you shall see——!”</p> - -<p>Here his voice ebbed away into a kind -of choked sob.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“It won’t!” said McNason—“It shan’t! -I’ll—I’ll do whatever you tell me——!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, will you really though!” And the -Goblin sniffed the air with its terribly -plastic nose very dubiously—“Do you mean<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Ah, be good to me!” he moaned—“Take -me home! I’ll promise anything—anything!”</p> - -<p>“It’s easy to promise,”—said the Goblin, -“Anyone can do that! But will you -keep your promises? For instance, will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> -you think of some other few things besides -<span class="allsmcap">YOURSELF</span>?”</p> - -<p>McNason lifted his trembling hands in the -fashion of one invoking the gods.</p> - -<p>“I will!—I will!”</p> - -<p>“You are a Man of <span class="smcap">Money</span>,”—pursued -the Goblin—“And with all the <span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span> you -possess will you think of <span class="allsmcap">POVERTY</span>? 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?”</p> - -<p>Faintly as a bride at the altar, McNason -murmured “I will!”</p> - -<p>“You are a Man of Luxury,”—went on -the Goblin—“Will you think of <span class="allsmcap">CRIME</span>?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span> -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 <span class="allsmcap">CRIME</span>?—and, thinking of it, will -you remember that it is often the sight of -a man like <span class="allsmcap">YOU</span>,—over-prosperous, over-proud,—that -helps to drive the poor into -the labyrinths of envy, hatred, drink, -murder and suicide! Will you think of -<span class="allsmcap">CRIME</span>?—and do your best to fight against -it with all your influence, all your power -and all your <span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span>?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span>And at this juncture the Goblin looked -positively terrific. McNason quailed before -its Gorgon eyes, and shivered.</p> - -<p>“I—I will try!” he murmured.</p> - -<p>The Goblin rose on its skeleton toes and -lifted its skeleton arms. Its voice grew -loud and shrill.</p> - -<p>“You are a Man of Commerce and -Calculation,”—it said—“Will you think of -<span class="allsmcap">WAR</span>! 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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="first">“<span class="smcap">We</span> sweep the seas!</div> -<div class="indent">Our glorious flag unfurl’d</div> -<div class="verse">From North to South, from East to West</div> -<div class="indent">Shines o’er the world!</div> -<div class="verse">Our cannon’s bellowing thunder</div> -<div class="indent">Roars with the roaring waves—</div> -<div class="verse">For Britain’s foes wild ocean holds</div> -<div class="indent">Nothing but graves!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="first">“<span class="smcap">We</span> sweep the seas!—</div> -<div class="indent">On waters far and near</div> -<div class="verse">Our signals flash, and write in fire</div> -<div class="indent"><span class="smcap">Our</span> meanings clear!</div> -<div class="verse">No other land, no other race</div> -<div class="indent">Can match our British men!—</div> -<div class="verse">They’ve won a thousand fights before,</div> -<div class="indent">They’ll win again!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="first">“<span class="smcap">We</span> sweep the seas!—</div> -<div class="indent">We rule the restless foam!</div> -<div class="verse">We struggle not for place or pelf,</div> -<div class="indent">We fight for Home!</div> -<div class="verse">Loud let the shout of ‘Victory!’</div> -<div class="indent">Ring on the fav’ring breeze,—</div> -<div class="verse">Down with the foe ten fathoms deep!</div> -<div class="indent"><span class="smcap">We</span> sweep the seas!”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>“War!” said the Goblin, tossing its -arms wildly as the sounds died away,—“War! -Accursed, yet triumphant War!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> -Think of it, <span class="allsmcap">YOU</span>, with your millions! <i>Can</i> -you, <i>will</i> you think of it without <span class="allsmcap">SPECULATING</span> -in the wide-spread misery it involves? -Without making more <span class="allsmcap">MONEY</span> 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? <i>Can</i> you be -true to the land in which you live? <i>Can</i> -you,—<i>will</i> you boldly refuse to sell material -assistance for your own personal advantage -to your Country’s foes?”</p> - -<p>Lashed into a fit of nervous desperation -McNason almost shouted:</p> - -<p>“I can! I can! And I will!”</p> - -<p>Whereupon the Goblin put on its conical -cap.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span> -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?”</p> - -<p>“Sure—sure!”—and Josiah began -to scramble out of bed in his excitement—“I’ll -get my clothes on in a -minute——”</p> - -<p>“Won’t you wait for Nurse Drat-Em-All?” -suggested the Goblin with a chuckle, -“She’ll be back directly!”</p> - -<p>“No—no—<span class="allsmcap">NO</span>!” 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!”</p> - -<p>“Have a split soda!” said the Goblin—“In -this dear sweet ‘Home’ it’s only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span> -sixpence! But if you put a B in it, it’s -two shillings!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you want to keep Christmas -now!” it remarked presently—“And you’re -in a hurry to begin. Is that it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—yes, that’s it!” stuttered Josiah, -“You’ll take me, won’t you—you’ll take -me——”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> -stiff breeze at the prospect of another -“airship” voyage with such a fearsome -skipper of the winds.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Now came soft pauses of silence,—flashing -gleams of colour like broken rainbows -floating at will through the pure ether,—glimpses<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> -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—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“God rest you, merry gentlemen!</div> -<div class="indent">Let nothing you dismay!</div> -<div class="verse">Remember Christ our Saviour</div> -<div class="indent">Was born on Christmas Day!”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Then came a pause,—a murmur—and -again the quaint old melody began—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“God rest you, merry gentlemen!</div> -<div class="indent">Let nothing you dismay!——”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I’m at home!” he cried—“At home! -In my own house! In my own room! -Thank God!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span>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.</p> - -<p>“It was a dream!” he muttered—“A -horrible, horrible dream! Nothing else! -It was a Dream!”</p> - -<p>“It <span class="allsmcap">WASN’T</span>!”</p> - -<p>The answer came sharply and with remarkable -emphasis.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“At any rate,”—he said—“I’ll be before -Pitt this time! I’ll—I’ll cut him out!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span>And sitting down at his desk, he drew -pen and paper to his aid, and wrote the -following—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“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,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="indentright">“Yours obliged and sincerely.</span><br /> - -“<span class="smcap">Josiah McNason</span>.”</p></div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span>Taking his cheque-book, he wrote the -required formula, that Two Hundred Pounds -(200<i>l.</i>) 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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He got up from his desk and stood -irresolute. Then he rang his bell.</p> - -<p>“This must be taken by special messenger,”—he -said—“There’s no late post -on Christmas Day!”</p> - -<p>He smiled, and rubbed his hands. At -that instant the door opened, and his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> -servant Towler appeared, with a pale, -rather scared face.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Towler!”</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, sir! Glad to see you -well, sir!”</p> - -<p>“Glad to see me well! Have I been -ill, then?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“I was busy,”—said Josiah, calmly—“Very -busy!—tremendously busy all night! -What time is it now?”</p> - -<p>“Nine o’clock, sir!”</p> - -<p>“And it’s Christmas Day, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Yessir!”</p> - -<p>“Here’s a sovereign for you,”—and -McNason handed that coin to his astonished -retainer—“And just get someone to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> -take this letter to Mr. Pitt’s house at once. -It’s important.”</p> - -<p>“Yessir! Certainly, sir! Thank-you, -sir! A Merry Christmas to you, sir!”</p> - -<p>“Thank-you! Same to you!”</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<p>And McNason, still standing thoughtfully -by his desk, repeated again in an undertone:</p> - -<p>“It was a Dream! It must have been -a Dream!”</p> - -<p>“It <span class="allsmcap">WASN’T</span>!” And a shrill falsetto -voice rang clear on the silence. “Hoo-roo—oo—oo! -Don’t you dare to call <span class="allsmcap">ME</span> -a Dream!”</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> -holding over its strangely shaped head a -sprig of holly, exactly as a man holds an -open umbrella.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry!” said McNason, humbly—“I -don’t want to make any more mistakes——”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“I won’t!”</p> - -<p>“What you would like to think was only -a Dream, is a Supernatural Reality!” -went on the Goblin; “It has all happened, -or it <i>will</i> 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, -<span class="allsmcap">YOU</span> will be called <span class="allsmcap">OUT</span>!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span>McNason shuddered,—but was silent.</p> - -<p>“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!——”</p> - -<p>“I will!” cried Josiah, eagerly—“I -will!”</p> - -<p>“In the spirit of One Timothy -Two?”</p> - -<p>“I will!”</p> - -<p>“Grace—mercy—peace!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“God rest you, merry Gentlemen!</div> -<div class="indent">Let nothing you dismay!</div> -<div class="verse">Remember Christ our Saviour</div> -<div class="indent">Was born on Christmas Day!”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, youngsters!” he cried—“Christmas -morning, eh? Here you are!”</p> - -<p>Out flew threepences, sixpences and -shillings in a shower.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” -shouted the astonished children, as, jumping -for joy, they gathered up their gifts.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span>“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!”</p> - -<p>And the Rich Man answered gently:</p> - -<p>“God bless you, little man!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“God rest you, merry Gentle Man!</div> -<div class="indent">Let nothing you dismay!</div> -<div class="verse">Remember Christ our Saviour</div> -<div class="indent">Was born on Christmas Day!”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> -one of the sunbeams,—while a voice, fine -and far, yet clear as a flute said:</p> - -<p>“Remember!”</p> - -<p>“I will!” he answered, under his breath.</p> - -<p>“In the spirit of One Timothy Two, -good-bye!” whispered the Goblin—“Grace—Mercy—Peace!”</p> - -<p>“And Christmas Day!” said Josiah—“I -shall remember!”</p> - - -<p class="center">THE END</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="transnote"> -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> -</div> - - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> - -<p>The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber using the original cover and is entered into the public domain.</p> -</div> - - -<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRANGE VISITATION ***</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 64152-h.htm or 64152-h.zip</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/1/5/64152/</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'> -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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