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diff --git a/8407-h/8407-h.htm b/8407-h/8407-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b43591e --- /dev/null +++ b/8407-h/8407-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,28600 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!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" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Christian, by Hall Caine + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Christian, by Hall Caine + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Christian + A Story + +Author: Hall Caine + + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8407] +This file was first posted on July 8, 2003 +Last Updated: March 8, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTIAN *** + + + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, Thomas +Berger, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE CHRISTIAN + </h1> + <h3> + <i>A STORY</i> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Hall Caine + </h2> + <h4> + <i>Author of The Manxman</i> + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <div class="middle"> + <p> + <i>The period of the story is the last quarter of the nineteenth + century. No particular years are intended. The time occupied by the + incidents of the first Book is about six months, of the Second Book + about six months, of the Third Book about six months; then there is an + interval of half a year, and the time occupied by the incidents of the + Fourth Book is about six weeks. An Author's Note will be found at the + end.</i> + </p> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE CHRISTIAN.</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>FIRST BOOK. — <i>THE OUTER WORLD</i></b>. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXI. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> <b>SECOND BOOK. — <i>THE RELIGIOUS LIFE.</i></b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> XX. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> <b>THIRD BOOK. — <i>THE DEVIL'S ACRE</i></b>. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0058"> XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0059"> XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0060"> XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0061"> XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0062"> XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0063"> XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0064"> <b>FOURTH BOOK. — <i>SANCTUARY</i></b>. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0065"> I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0066"> II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0067"> III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0068"> IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0069"> V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0070"> VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0071"> VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0072"> VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0073"> IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0074"> X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0075"> XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0076"> XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0077"> XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0078"> XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0079"> XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0080"> XVI. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE CHRISTIAN. + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIRST BOOK. — <i>THE OUTER WORLD</i>. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + On the morning of the 9th of May, 18—, three persons important to + this story stood among the passengers on the deck of the Isle of Man + steamship <i>Tynwald</i> as she lay by the pier at Douglas getting up + steam for the passage to Liverpool. One of these was an old clergyman of + seventy, with a sweet, mellow, childlike face; another was a young man of + thirty, also a clergyman; the third was a girl of twenty. The older + clergyman wore a white neckcloth about his throat, and was dressed in + rather threadbare black of a cut that had been more common twenty years + before; the younger clergyman wore a Roman collar, a long clerical coat, + and a stiff, broad-brimmed hat with a cord and tassel. They stood + amidships, and the captain, coming out of his room to mount the bridge, + saluted them as he passed. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Mr. Storm.” + </p> + <p> + The young clergyman returned the salutation with a slight bow and the + lifting of his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Morning to you, Parson Quayle.” + </p> + <p> + The old clergyman answered cheerily, “Oh, good morning, captain; good + morning.” + </p> + <p> + There was the usual inquiry about the weather outside, and drawing up to + answer it, the captain came eye to eye with the girl. + </p> + <p> + “So this is the granddaughter, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, this is Glory,” said Parson Quayle. “She's leaving the old + grandfather at last, captain, and I'm over from Peel to set her off, you + see.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the young lady has got the world before her—at her feet, I + ought to say.—You're looking as bright and fresh as the morning, + Miss Quayle.” + </p> + <p> + The captain carried off his compliment with a breezy laugh, and went along + to the bridge. The girl had heard him only in a momentary flash of + consciousness, and she replied merely with a side glance and a smile. Both + eyes and ears, and every sense and every faculty, seemed occupied with the + scene before her. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful spring morning, not yet nine o'clock, but the sun stood + high over Douglas Head, and the sunlight was glancing in the harbour from + the little waves of the flowing tide. Oars were rattling up the pier, + passengers were trooping down the gangways, and the decks fore and aft + were becoming thronged. + </p> + <p> + “It's beautiful!” she was saying, not so much to her companions as to + herself, and the old parson was laughing at her bursts of rapture over the + commonplace scene, and dropping out in reply little driblets of simple + talk—sweet, pure nothings—the innocent babble as of a mountain + stream. + </p> + <p> + She was taller than the common, and had golden-red hair, and magnificent + dark-gray eyes of great size. One of her eyes had a brown spot, which gave + at the first glance the effect of a squint, at the next glance a + coquettish expression, and ever after a sense of tremendous power and + passion. But her most noticeable feature was her mouth, which was somewhat + too large for beauty, and was always moving nervously. When she spoke, her + voice startled you with its depth, which was a kind of soft hoarseness, + but capable of every shade of colour. There was a playful and impetuous + raillery in nearly all she said, and everything seemed to be expressed by + mind and body at the same time. She moved her body restlessly, and while + standing in the same place her feet were always shuffling. Her dress was + homely—almost poor—and perhaps a little careless. She appeared + to smile and laugh continually, and yet there were tears in her eyes + sometimes. + </p> + <p> + The young clergyman was of a good average height, but he looked taller + from a certain distinction of figure. When he raised his hat at the + captain's greeting he showed a forehead like an arched wall, and a large, + close-cropped head. He had a well-formed nose, a powerful chin, and full + lips—all very strong and set for one so young. His complexion was + dark—almost swarthy—and there was a certain look of the gipsy + in his big golden-brown eyes with their long black lashes. He was clean + shaven, and the lower part of his face seemed heavy under the splendid + fire of the eyes above it. His manner had a sort of diffident restraint; + he stood on the same spot without moving, and almost without raising his + drooping head; his speech was grave and usually slow and laboured; his + voice was bold and full. + </p> + <p> + The second bell had rung, and the old parson was making ready to go + ashore. + </p> + <p> + “You'll take care of this runaway, Mr. Storm, and deliver her safely at + the door of the hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “And you'll keep an eye on her in that big Babylon over there?” + </p> + <p> + “If she'll let me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, yes; I know she's as unstable as water and as hard to hold + as a puff of wind.” + </p> + <p> + The girl was laughing again. “You might as well call me a tempest and have + done with it, or,” with a glance at the younger man, “say a storm—Glory + St—— Oh!” + </p> + <p> + With a little catch of the breath she arrested the name before it was + uttered by her impetuous tongue, and laughed again to cover her confusion. + The young man smiled faintly and rather painfully, but the old parson was + conscious of nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and why not? A good name for you too, and you richly deserve it.—But + the Lord is lenient with such natures, John. He never tries them beyond + their strength. She hasn't much leaning to religion, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The girl recalled herself from the busy scene around and broke in again + with a tone of humour and pathos mixed. + </p> + <p> + “There, call me an infidel at once, grandfather. I know what you mean. But + just to show you that I haven't exactly registered a vow in heaven never + to go to church in London because you've given me such a dose of it in the + Isle of Man, I'll promise to send you a full and particular report of Mr. + Storm's first sermon. Isn't that charming of me?” + </p> + <p> + The third bell was ringing, the blast of the steam whistle was echoing + across the bay, and the steamer was only waiting for the mails. Taking a + step nearer to the gangway, the old parson talked faster. + </p> + <p> + “Did Aunt Anna give you money enough, child?” + </p> + <p> + “Enough for my boat fare and my train.” + </p> + <p> + “No more! Now Anna is so——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't trouble, grandfather. Woman wants but little here below—Aunt + Anna excepted. And then a hospital nurse——” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you'll feel lonely in that great wilderness.” + </p> + <p> + “Lonely with five millions of neighbours?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll be longing for the old island, Glory, and I half repent me already——” + </p> + <p> + “If ever I have the blue-devils, grandpa, I'll just whip on my cape and + fly home again.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow morning I'll be searching all over the house for my runaway.” + </p> + <p> + Glory tried to laugh gaily. “Upstairs, downstairs, and in my lady's + chamber.” + </p> + <p> + “'Glory,' I'll be crying, 'Where's the girl gone at all? I haven't heard + her voice in the house to-day. What's come over the old place to strike it + so dead?'” + </p> + <p> + The girl's eyes were running over, but in a tone of gentle raillery and + heart's love she said severely: “Nonsense, grandfather, you'll forget all + about Glory going to London before the day after to-morrow. Every morning + you'll be making rubbings of your old runes, and every night you'll be + playing chess with Aunt Rachel, and every Sunday you'll be scolding old + Neilus for falling asleep in the reading desk, and—and everything + will go on just the same as ever.” + </p> + <p> + The mails had come aboard, one of the gangways had been drawn ashore, and + the old parson, holding his big watch in his left hand, was diving into + his fob-pocket with the fingers of the right. + </p> + <p> + “Here”—panting audibly, as if he had been running hard—“is + your mother's little pearl ring.” + </p> + <p> + The girl drew off her slack, soiled glove and took the ring in her nervous + fingers. + </p> + <p> + “A wonderful talisman is the relic of a good mother, sir,” said the old + parson. + </p> + <p> + The young clergyman bent his head. + </p> + <p> + “You're like Glory herself in that though—you don't remember your + mother either.” + </p> + <p> + “No-no.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll keep in touch with your father, John, trust me for that. You and he + shall be good friends yet. A man can't hold out against his son for + nothing worse than choosing the Church against the world. The old man + didn't mean all he said; and then it isn't the thunder that strikes people + dead, you know. So leave him to me; and if that foolish old Chalse hasn't + been putting notions into his head——” + </p> + <p> + The throbbing in the steam funnel had ceased and in the sudden hush a + voice from the bridge cried, “All ashore!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Glory! Good-bye, John! Good-bye both!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, sir,” said the young clergyman with a long hand-clasp. + </p> + <p> + But the girl's arms were about the old man's neck. “Good-bye, you dear old + grandpa, and I'm ashamed I—I'm sorry I—I mean it's a shame of + me to—good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, my wandering gipsy, my witch, my runaway!” + </p> + <p> + “If you call me names I'll have to stop your mouth, sir. Again—another——” + </p> + <p> + A voice cried, “Stand back there!” + </p> + <p> + The young clergyman drew the girl back from the bulwarks, and the steamer + moved slowly away. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go below—no, I won't; I'll stay on deck. I'll go ashore—I + can't bear it; it's not too late yet. No, I'll go to the stern and see the + water in the wake.” + </p> + <p> + The pier was cleared and the harbour was empty. Over the white churning + water the sea gulls were wheeling, and Douglas Head was gliding slowly + back. Down the long line of the quay the friends of the passengers were + waving adieus. + </p> + <p> + “There he is, on the end of the pier! That's grandpa waving his + handkerchief! Don't you see it? The red-and-white cotton one! God bless + him! How <i>wae</i> his little present made me! He has been keeping it all + these years. But my silk handkerchief is too damp—it won't float at + all. Will you lend me——Ah, thank you! Good-bye! good-bye! good——” + </p> + <p> + The girl hung over the stern rail, leaning her breast upon it and waving + the handkerchief as long as the pier and its people were in sight, and + when they were gone from recognition she watched the line of the land + until it began to fade into the clouds, and there was no more to be seen + of what she had looked upon every day of her life until to-day. + </p> + <p> + “The dear little island! I never thought it was so beautiful! Perhaps I + might have been happy even there, if I had tried. Now, if I had only had + somebody for company! How silly of me! I've been five years wishing and + praying to get away, and now! ... It <i>is</i> lovely, though, isn't it? + Just like a bird on the water! And when you've been born in a place ... + the dear little island! And the old folks, too! How lonely they'll be, + after all! I wonder if I shall ever.... I'll go below. The wind's + freshening, and this water in the wake is making my eyes... Good-bye, + little birdie! I'll come back—I'll.... Yes, never fear, I'll——” + </p> + <p> + The laughter and impetuous talking, the gentle humour and pathos, had + broken at length into a sob, and the girl had wheeled about and + disappeared down the cabin stairs. John Storm stood looking after her. He + had hardly spoken, but his great brown eyes were moist. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + Her father had been the only son of Parson Quayle, and chaplain to the + bishop at Bishopscourt. It was there he had met her mother, who was lady's + maid to the bishop's wife. The maid was a bright young Frenchwoman, + daughter of a French actress, famous in her day, and of an officer under + the Empire, who had never been told of her existence. Shortly after their + marriage the chaplain was offered a big mission station in Africa, and, + being a devotee, he clutched at it without fear of the fevers of the + coast. But his young French wife was about to become a mother, and she + shrank from the perils of his life abroad, so he took her to his father's + house at Peel, and bade her farewell for five years. + </p> + <p> + He lived four, and during that time they exchanged some letters. His final + instructions were sent from Southampton: “If it's a boy, call him John + (after the Evangelist); and if it's a girl, call her Glory.” At the end of + the first year she wrote: “I have shortened our darling, and you never saw + anything so lovely! Oh, the sweetness of her little bare arms, and her + neck, and her little round shoulders! You know she's red—I've really + got a red one—a curly red one! Such big beaming eyes, too! And then + her mouth, and her chin, and her tiny red toes! I don't know how you can + live without seeing her!” Near the end of the fourth year he sent his last + answer: “Dear Wife—This separation is bitter; but God has willed it, + and we must not forget that the probabilities are that we may pass our + lives apart.” The next letter was from the English consul on the Gaboon + River, announcing the death of the devoted missionary. + </p> + <p> + Parson Quayle's household consisted only of himself and two maiden + daughters, but that was too much for the lively young Frenchwoman. While + her husband lived, she suffocated under the old-maid <i>régime</i>; and + when he was gone she made no more fight with destiny, but took some simple + ailment, and died suddenly. + </p> + <p> + A bare hillside frowned down on the place where Glory was born; but the + sun rose over it, and a beautiful river hugged its sides. A quarter of a + mile down the river there was a harbour, and beyond the harbour a bay, + with the ruins of an old castle standing out on an islet rock, and then + the broad sweep of the Irish Sea-the last in those latitudes to “parley + with the setting sun.” The vicarage was called Glenfaba, and it was half a + mile outside the fishing town of Peel. + </p> + <p> + Glory was a little red-headed witch from the first, with an air of general + uncanniness in everything she did and said. Until after she was six there + was no believing a word she uttered. Her conversation was bravely + indifferent to considerations of truth or falsehood, fear or favour, + reward or punishment. The parson used to say, “I'm really afraid the child + has no moral conscience—she doesn't seem to know right from wrong.” + This troubled his religion, but it tickled his humour, and it did not + disturb his love. “She's a perfect pagan—God bless her innocent + heart!” + </p> + <p> + She had more than a child's genius for make-believe. In her hunger for + child company, before the days when she found it for herself, she made + believe that various versions of herself lived all over the place, and she + would call them out to play. There was Glory in the river, under the pool + where the perches swam, and Glory down the well, and Glory up in the + hills, and they answered when she spoke to them. All her dolls were kings + and queens, and she had a gift for making up in strange and grand + disguises. It was almost as if her actress grandmother had bestowed on her + from her birth the right to life and luxury and love. + </p> + <p> + She was a born mimic, and could hit off to a hair an eccentricity or an + affectation. The frown of Aunt Anna, who was severe, the smile of Aunt + Rachel, who was sentimental, and the yawn of Cornelius Kewley, the clerk + who was always sleepy, lived again in the roguish, rippling face. She + remembered some of her mother's French songs, and seeing a street-singer + one day, she established herself in the market-place in that character, + with grown people on their knees around her, ready to fall on her and kiss + her and call her Phonodoree, the fairy. But she did not forget to go round + for the ha'pennies either. + </p> + <p> + At ten she was a tomboy, and marched through the town at the head of an + army of boys, playing on a comb between her teeth and flying the vicar's + handkerchief at the end of his walking-stick. In these days she climbed + trees and robbed orchards (generally her own) and imitated boys' voices, + and thought it tyranny that she might not wear trousers. But she wore a + sailor's blue stocking-cap, and it brightened existence when, for + economy's sake and for the sake of general tidiness, she was allowed to + wear a white woollen jersey. Then somebody who had a dinghy that he did + not want asked her if she would like to have a boat. Would she like to + have paradise, or pastry cakes, or anything that was heavenly! After that + she wore a sailor's jacket and a sou'wester when she was on the sea, and + tumbled about the water like a duck. + </p> + <p> + At twelve she fell in love—with love. It was a vague passion + interwoven with dreams of grandeur. The parson being too poor to send her + to the girls' college at Douglas, and his daughters being too proud to + send her to the dame's school at Peel, she was taught at home by Aunt + Rachel, who read the poetry of Thomas Moore, knew the birthdays of all the + royal family, and was otherwise meekly romantic. From this source she + gathered much curious sentiment relating to some visionary world where + young girls were held aloft in the sunshine of luxury and love and + happiness. One day she was lying on her back on the heather of the Peel + hill, with her head on her arms, thinking of a story that Aunt Rachel had + told her. It was of a mermaid who had only to slip up out of the sea and + say to any man, “Come,” and he came—he left everything and followed + her. Suddenly the cold nose of a pointer rubbed against her forehead, a + strong voice cried, “Down, sir!” and a young man of two and twenty, in + leggings and a shooting-jacket, strode between her and the cliffs. She + knew him by sight. He was John Storm, the son of Lord Storm, who had + lately come to live in the mansion house at Knockaloe, a mile up the hill + from Glenfaba. + </p> + <p> + For three weeks thereafter she talked of nobody else, and even began to + comb her hair. She watched him in church, and told Aunt Rachel she was + sure he could see quite well in the dark, for his big eyes seemed to have + the light inside of them. After that she became ashamed, and if anybody + happened to mention his name in her hearing she flushed up to the forehead + and fled out of the room. He never once looked at her, and after a while + he went away to Canada. She set the clock on the back landing to Canadian + time, so that she might always know what he was doing abroad, and then + straightway forgot all about him. Her moods followed each other rapidly, + and were all of them overpowering and all sincere, but it was not until a + year afterward that she fell in love, in the church vestry, with the + pretty boy who stood opposite to her in the catechism class. + </p> + <p> + He was an English boy of her own age, and he was only staying in the + island for his holidays. The second time she saw him it was in the grounds + at Glenfaba, while his mother was returning a call indoors. She gave him a + little tap on the arm and he had to run after her—down a bank and up + a tree, where she laughed and said. “Isn't it nice?” and he could see + nothing but her big white teeth. + </p> + <p> + His name was Francis Horatio Nelson Drake, and he was full of great + accounts of the goings-on in the outer world, where his school was, and + where lived the only “men” worth talking about. Of course he spoke of all + this familiarly and with a convincing reality which wrapped Glory in the + plumage of dreams. He was a wonderful being, altogether, and in due time + (about three days) she proposed to him. True, he did not jump at her offer + with quite proper alacrity, but when she mentioned that it didn't matter + to her in the least whether he wanted her or not, and that plenty would be + glad of the chance, he saw things differently, and they agreed to elope. + There was no particular reason for this drastic measure, but as Glory had + a boat, it seemed the right thing to do. + </p> + <p> + She dressed herself in all her Confirmation finery, and stole out to meet + him under the bridge where her boat lay moored. He kept her half an hour + waiting, having sisters and other disadvantages, but “once aboard her + lugger,” he was safe. She was breathless, and he was anxious, and neither + thought it necessary to waste any time in kissing. + </p> + <p> + They slipped down the harbour and out into the bay, and then ran up the + sail and stood off for Scotland. Being more easy in mind when this was + done, they had time to talk of the future. Francis Horatio was for work—he + was going to make a name for himself. Glory did not see it quite in that + light. A name, yes, and lots of triumphal processions, but she was for + travel—there were such lots of things people could see if they + didn't waste so much time working. + </p> + <p> + “What a girl you are!” he said derisively; whereupon she bit her lip, for + she didn't quite like it. But they were nearly half an hour out before he + spoiled himself utterly. He had brought his dog, a she-terrier, and he + began to call her by her kennel name and to say what a fine little thing + she was, and what a deal of money they would make by her pups. That was + too much for Glory. She couldn't think of eloping with a person who used + such low expressions. + </p> + <p> + “What a girl you are!” he said again; but she did not mind it in the + least. With a sweep of her bare arm she had put the tiller hard aport, + intending to tack back to Peel, but the wind had freshened and the sea was + rising, and by the swift leap of the boat the boom was snapped, and the + helpless sail came napping down upon the mast. Then they tumbled into the + trough, and Glory had not strength to pull them out of it, and the boy was + of no more use than a tripper. She was in her white muslin dress, and he + was nursing his dog, and the night was closing down on them, and they were + wobbling about under a pole and a tattered rag. But all at once a great + black yacht came heaving up in the darkness, and a grown-up voice cried, + “Trust yourself to me, dear.” + </p> + <p> + It was John Storm. He had already awakened the young girl in her, and + thereafter he awakened the young woman as well. She clung to him like a + child that night, and during the four years following she seemed always to + be doing the same. He was her big brother, her master, her lord, her + sovereign. She placed him on a dizzy height above her, amid a halo of + goodness and grandeur. If he smiled on her she flushed, and if he frowned + she fretted and was afraid. Thinking to please him, she tried to dress + herself up in all the colours of the rainbow, but he reproved her and bade + her return to her jersey. She struggled to comb out her red curls until he + told her that the highest ladies in the land would give both ears for + them, and then she fondled them in her fingers and admired them in a + glass. + </p> + <p> + He was a serious person, but she could make him laugh until he screamed. + Excepting Byron and “Sir Charles Grandison,” out of the vicar's library, + the only literature she knew was the Bible, the Catechism, and the Church + Service, and she used these in common talk with appalling freedom and + audacity. The favourite butt of her mimicry was the parish clerk saying + responses when he was sleepy. + </p> + <p> + The parson: “O Lord, open thou our lips” (no response). “Where are you, + Neilus?” + </p> + <p> + The clerk (awakening suddenly in the desk below): “Here I am, your + reverence—and our mouth shall show forth thy praise.” + </p> + <p> + When John Storm did laugh he laughed beyond all control, and then Glory + was entirely happy. But he went away again, his father having sent him to + Australia, and all the light of her world went out. + </p> + <p> + It was of no use bothering with the clock on the back landing, because + things were different by this time. She was sixteen, and the only tree she + climbed now was the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and that tore + her terribly. John Storm was the son of a lord, and he would be Lord + Something himself some day. Glory Quayle was an orphan, and her + grandfather was a poor country clergyman. Their poverty was sweet, but + there was gall in it, nevertheless. The little forced economies in dress, + the frocks that had to be turned, the bonnets that were beauties when they + were bought, but had to be worn until the changes of fashion made them + frights, and then the mysterious parcels of left-off clothing from + goodness knows where—how the independence of the girl's spirit + rebelled against such humiliations! + </p> + <p> + The blood of her mother was beginning to boil over, and the old-maid <i>régime</i>, + which had crushed the life out of the Frenchwoman, was suffocating the + Manx girl with its formalism. She was always forgetting the meal times + regulated by the sun, and she could sleep at any time and keep awake until + any hour. It tired her to sit demurely like a young lady, and she had a + trick of lying down on the floor. She often laughed in order not to cry, + but she would not even smile at a great lady's silly story, and she did + not care a jot about the birthdays of the royal family. The old aunts + loved her body and soul, but they often said, “Whatever is going to happen + to the girl when the grandfather is gone?” + </p> + <p> + And the grandfather—good man—would have laid down his life to + save her a pain in her toe, but he had not a notion of the stuff she was + made of. His hobby was the study of the runic crosses with which the Isle + of Man abounds, and when she helped him with his rubbings and his casts he + was as merry as an old sand-boy. Though they occupied the same house, and + her bedroom that faced the harbour was next to his little musty study that + looked over the scullery slates, he lived always in the tenth century and + she lived somewhere in the twentieth. + </p> + <p> + The imprisoned linnet was beating at the bars of its cage. Before she was + aware of it she wanted to escape from the sleepy old scene, and had begun + to be consumed with longing for the great world outside. On summer + evenings she would go up Peel Hill and lie on the heather, where she had + first seen John Storm, and watch the ships weighing anchor in the bay + beyond the old dead castle walls, and wish she were going out with them—out + to the sea and the great cities north and south. But existence closed in + ever-narrowing circles round her, and she could see no way out. Two years + passed, and at eighteen she was fretting that half her life had wasted + away. She watched the sun until it sank into the sea, and then she turned + back to Glenfaba and the darkened region of the sky. + </p> + <p> + It was all the fault of their poverty, and their poverty was the fault of + the Church. She began to hate the Church; It had made her an orphan; and + when she thought of religion as a profession it seemed a selfish thing + anyway. If a man was really bent on so lofty an aim (as her own father had + been) he could not think of himself; he had to give up life and love and + the world, and then these always took advantage of him. But people had to + live in the world for all that, and what was the good of burying yourself + before you were dead? + </p> + <p> + Somehow her undefined wishes took shape in visions of John Storm, and one + day she heard he was home again. She went out on the hill that evening + and, being seen only by the gulls, she laughed and cried and ran. It was + just like poetry, for there he was himself lying on the edge of the cliff + near the very spot where she had been used to lie. On seeing him she went + more slowly, and began to poke about in the heather as if she had seen + nothing. He came up to her with both hands outstretched, and then suddenly + she remembered that she was wearing her old jersey, and she flushed up to + the eyes and nearly choked with shame. She got better by-and-bye and + talked away like a mill-wheel, and then fearing he might think it was from + something quite different, she began to pull the heather and to tell him + why she had been blushing. He did not laugh at all. With a strange smile + he said something in his deep voice that made her blood run cold. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm to be a poor man myself in future, Glory. I've quarrelled with my + father. I'm going into the Church.” + </p> + <p> + It was a frightful blow to her, and the sun went down like a shot. But it + burst open the bars of her cage for all that. After John Storm had found a + curacy in London and taken Orders, he told them at Glenfaba that among his + honorary offices was to be that of chaplain to a great West End hospital. + This suggested to Glory the channel of escape. She would go out as a + hospital nurse. It was easier said than done, for hospital nursing was + fashionable, and she was three years too young. With great labour she + secured her appointment as probationer, and with greater labour still + overcame the fear and affection of her grandfather. But the old parson was + finally appeased when he heard that Glory's hospital was the same that + John Storm was to be chaplain of, and that they might go up to London + together. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <p> + “Dear Grandfather Of Me, And Everybody At Glenfaba: Here I am at last, + dears, at the end of my Pilgrim's Progress, and the evening and the + morning' are the first day. It is now eleven o'clock at night, and I am + about to put myself to bed in my own little room at the hospital of + Martha's Vineyard, Hyde Park, London, England. + </p> + <p> + “The captain was quite right; the morning was as fresh as his flattery, + and before we got far beyond the Head most of the passengers were spread + out below like the three legs of Man. Being an old sea-doggie myself, I + didn't give it the chance to make me sick, but went downstairs and lay + quiet in my berth and deliberated great things. I didn't go up again until + we got into the Mersey, and then the passengers were on deck, looking like + sour buttermilk spilt out of the churn. + </p> + <p> + “What a glorious sight! The ships, the docks, the towers, the town! I + couldn't breathe for excitement until we got up to the landing-stage. Mr. + Storm put me into a cab, and for the sake of experience I insisted on + paying my own way. Of course he tried to trick me, but a woman's a woman + for a' that. As we drove up to Lime Street station there befell—a + porter. He carried my big trunk on his head (like a mushroom), and when I + bought my ticket he took me to the train while Mr. Storm went for a + newspaper. Being such a stranger, he was very kind, so I flung the + responsibility on Providence and gave him sixpence. + </p> + <p> + “There were two old ladies in the carriage beside ourselves, and the train + we travelled by was an express. It was perfectly delightful, and for all + the world like plunging into a stiff sou'wester off the rocks at Contrary. + But the first part of the journey was terrible. That tunnel nearly made me + shriek. It was a misty day too at Liverpool, and all the way to Edge Hill + they let off signals with a noise like battering-rams. My nerves were on + the rack; so taking advantage of the darkness of the carriage, I began to + sing. That calmed me, but it nearly drove the old ladies out of their + wits. <i>They</i> screamed if I didn't; and just as I was summoning the + Almighty to attend to me a little in the middle of that inferno, out we + came as innocent as a baby. There was another of these places just before + getting into London. I suppose they are purgatories through which you have + to pass to get to these wonderful cities. Only if I had been consulted in + the making of the Litany ('from sudden death, good Lord, deliver us') I + should have made an exception for people in tunnels. + </p> + <p> + “You never knew what an absolute ninny Glory is! I was burning with such + impatience to see London that when we came near it I couldn't see anything + for water under the brain. Approaching a great and mighty city for the + first time must be like going into the presence of majesty. Only Heaven + save me from such palpitation the day I become songstress to the Queen! + </p> + <p> + “Mercy! what a roar and boom—a deep murmur as of ten hundred million + million moths humming away on a still evening in autumn! On a nearer view + it is more like a Tower-of-Babel concern, with its click and clatter. The + explosion of voices, the confused clamour, the dreadful disorder—cars, + wagons, omnibuses—it makes you feel religious and rather cold down + the back. What a needle in a haystack a poor girl must be here if there is + nobody above to keep track of her! + </p> + <p> + “Tell Aunt Rachel they are wearing another kind of bonnet in London—more + pokey in front—and say if I see the Queen I'll be sure to tell her + all about it. + </p> + <p> + “We didn't get to the hospital until nine, so I've not seen much of it + yet. The housekeeper gave me tea and told me I might go over the house, as + I wouldn't be wanted to begin duty before morning. So for an hour I went + from ward to ward like a female Wandering Jew. Such silence! I'm afraid + this hospital nursing is going to be a lockjaw business. And now I'm going + to bed—well, not homesick, you know, but just 'longing a lil bit for + all.' To-morrow morning I'll waken up to new sounds and sights, and when I + draw my blind I'll see the streets where the cars are forever running and + rattling. Then I'll think of Glenfaba and the birds singing and rejoicing. + </p> + <p> + “Dispense my love throughout the island. Say that I love everybody just + the same now I'm a London lady as when I was a mere provincial girl, and + that when I'm a wonderful woman, and have brought the eyes of England upon + me, I'll come back and make amends. I can hear what grandfather is saying: + 'Gough bless me, what a girl, though!' Glory. + </p> + <p> + “P. S.—I've not said much about Mr. Storm. He left me at the door of + the hospital and went on to the house of his vicar, for that is where he + is to lodge, you know. On the way up I expended much beautiful poetry upon + him on the subject of love. The old girlies having dozed off, I chanced to + ask him if he liked to talk of it, but he said no, it was a profanation. + Love was too sacred, it was a kind of religion. Sometimes it came + unawares, sometimes it smouldered like fire under ashes, sometimes it was + a good angel, sometimes a devil, making you do things and say things, and + laying your life waste like winter. But I told him it was just charming, + and as for religion, there was nothing under heaven like the devotion of a + handsome and clever man to a handsome and clever woman, when he gave up + all the world for her, and his body and his soul and everything that was + his. I think he saw there was something in that, for though he said + nothing, there came a wonderful light into his splendid eyes, and I + thought if he wasn't going to be a clergyman—but no matter. So long, + dear!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. + </h2> + <p> + John Storm was the son of Lord Storm (a peer in his own right), and nephew + of the Prime Minister of England, the Earl of Erin. Two years before + John's birth the brothers had quarrelled about a woman. It was John's + mother. She had engaged herself to the younger brother, and afterward + fallen in love with the elder one. The voice of conscience told her that + it was her duty to carry out her engagement, and she did so. Then the + voice of conscience took sides with the laws of life and told the lovers + that they must renounce each other, and they both did that as well. But + the poor girl found it easier to renounce life than love, and after flying + to religion as an escape from the conflict between conjugal duty and + elemental passion she gave birth to her child and died. She was the + daughter of a rich banker, who had come from the soil, and she had been + brought up to consider marriage distinct from love. Exchanging wealth for + title, she found death in the deal. + </p> + <p> + Her husband had never stood in any natural affinity to her. On his part, + their marriage had been a loveless and selfish union, based on the desire + for an heir that he might found a family and cancel the unfair position of + a younger son. But the sin he committed against the fundamental law, that + marriage shall be founded only in love, brought its swift revenge. + </p> + <p> + On hearing that the wife was dead, the elder brother came to attend the + funeral. The night before that event the husband felt unhappy about the + part he had played. He had given no occasion for scandal, but he had never + disguised, even from the mother of his son, the motives of his marriage. + The poor girl was gone; he had only trained himself for the pursuit of her + dowry, and the voice of love had been silent. Troubled by such thoughts, + he walked about his room all night long, and somewhere in the first dead + gray of dawn he went down to the death chamber that he might look upon her + face again. Opening the door, he heard the sound of half-stifled sobs. + Some one was leaning over the white face and weeping like a man with a + broken heart. It was his brother. + </p> + <p> + From that time forward Lord Storm considered himself the injured person. + He had never cared for his brother, and now he designed to wipe him out. + His son would do it. He was the heir to the earldom, for the earl had + never married. But a posthumous revenge was too trivial. The earl had gone + into politics and was making a name. Lord Storm had missed his own + opportunities, though he had got himself called to the Upper House, but + his son should be brought up to eclipse everything. + </p> + <p> + To this end the father devoted his life to the boy's training. All + conventional education was wrong in principle. Schools and colleges and + the study of the classics were drivelling folly, with next to nothing to + do with life. Travel was the great teacher. “You shall travel as far as + the sun,” he said. So the boy was taken through Europe and Asia and + learned something of many languages. He became his father's daily + companion, and nowhere the father went was it thought wrong for the boy to + go also. Conventional morality was considered mawkish. The chief aim of + home training was to bring children up in total ignorance, if possible, of + the most important facts and functions of life. But it was <i>not</i> + possible, and hence suppression, dissimulation, lying, and, under the ban + of secret sin, one half the world's woe. So the boy was taken to the + temples of Greece and India, and even to Western casinos and dancing + gardens. Before he was twenty he had seen something of nearly everything + the world has in it. + </p> + <p> + When the time came to think of his career England was in straits about her + colonial empire. The vast lands over sea wanted to take care of + themselves. It was the moment of the “British North America Act,” and that + gave the father his cue for action. While his brother the earl was + fiddling the country to the tune of limited self-government for Crown + colonies, the father of John Storm conceived the daring idea of breaking + up the entire empire, including the United Kingdom, into self-governing + states. They were to be the “United States of Great Britain.” + </p> + <p> + This was to be John Storm's policy, and to work it out Lord Storm set up a + house in the Isle of Man where he might always look upon his plan in + miniature. There he established a bureau for the gathering of the data + that his son would need to use hereafter. Newspapers came to him in his + lonely retreat from all quarters of the globe, and he cut out everything + relating to his subject. His library was a dusty room lined all around + with brown-paper pockets, which were labelled with the names of colonies + and counties. + </p> + <p> + “It will take us two generations to do it, my boy, but we'll alter the + history of England.” + </p> + <p> + At fifty he was iron-gray, and had a head like a big owl. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the object of these grand preparations, the offspring of that + loveless union, had a personality all his own. It seemed as if he had been + built for a big man every way, and Nature had been arrested in the making + of him. When people looked at his head they felt he ought to have been a + giant, but he was far from rivalling the children of Anak. When they + listened to his conversation they thought he might turn out to be a + creature of genius, but perhaps he was only a man of powerful moods. The + best strength of body and mind seemed to have gone into his heart. It may + be that the sorrowful unrest of his mother and her smothered passion had + left their red stream in John Storm's soul. + </p> + <p> + When he was a boy he would cry at a beautiful view in Nature, at a tale of + heroism, or at any sentimental ditty sung excruciatingly in the streets. + Seeing a bird's nest that had been robbed of its eggs he burst into tears; + but when he came upon the bleeding, broken shells in the path, the tears + turned to fierce wrath and mad rage, and he snatched up a gun out of his + father's room and went out to take the life of the offender. + </p> + <p> + On coming to the Isle of Man he noticed as often as he went to church that + a little curly red-headed girl kept staring at him from the vicar's pew. + He was a man of two-and-twenty, but the child's eyes tormented him. At any + time of day or night he could call up a vision of their gleaming + brightness. Then his father sent him to Canada to watch the establishment + of the Dominion, and when he came back he brought a Canadian canoe and an + American yacht, and certain democratic opinions. + </p> + <p> + The first time he sailed the yacht in Manx waters he sighted a disabled + boat and rescued two children. One of them was the girl of the vicar's + pew, grown taller and more winsome. She nestled up to him when he lifted + her into the yacht, and, without knowing why, he kept his arms about her. + </p> + <p> + After that he called his yacht the <i>Gloria</i>, in imitation of her + name, and sometimes took the girl out on the sea. Notwithstanding the + difference of the years between them, they had their happy boy and girl + days together. In her white jersey and stocking-cap she looked every inch + a sailor. When the wind freshened and the boat plunged she stood to the + tiller like a man, and he thought her the sweetest sight ever seen in a + cockpit. And when the wind saddened and the boom came aboard she was the + cheeriest companion in a calm. She sang, and so did he, and their voices + went well together. Her favourite song was “Come, Lasses and Lads”; his + was “John Peel”; and they would sing them off and on for an hour at a + spell. Thus on a summer evening, when the bay was lying like a tired + monster asleep, and every plash of an oar was echoing on the hills, the + people on the land would hear them coming around the castle rock with + their— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “D'ye ken John Peel, with his coat so gay? + D'ye ken John Peel at the break of day? + D'ye ken John P-e-e-l....” + </pre> + <p> + For two years he amused himself with the child, and then realized that she + was a child no longer. The pity of the girl's position took hold of him. + This sunny soul with her sportfulness, her grace of many gifts, with her + eyes that flashed and gleamed like lightning, with her voice that was like + the warble of a bird, this golden-headed gipsy, this witch, this fairy—what + was the life that lay before her? Pity gave place to a different feeling, + and then he was aware of a pain in the breast when he thought of the girl. + As often as her eyes lasted upon him he felt his face tingle and burn. He + began to be conscious of an imprisoned side to his nature, the passionate + side, and he drew back afraid. This wild power, this tempest, this raging + fire within, God only knew whither it was to lead him. And then he had + given a hostage to fortune, or his father had for him. + </p> + <p> + From his father's gloomy house at Knockaloe, where the winds were ever + droning in the trees, he looked over to Glenfaba, and it seemed to him + like a little white cloud lit up by the sunshine. His heart was forever + calling to the sunny spot over there, “Glory! Glory!” The pity of it was + that the girl seemed to understand everything, and to know quite well what + kept them apart. She flushed with shame that he should see her wearing the + same clothes constantly, and with head aside and furtive glances she + talked of the days when he would leave the island for good, and London + would take him and make much of him, and he would forget all about his + friends in that dead old place. Such talk cut him to the quick. Though he + had seen a deal of the world, he did not know much about the conversation + of women. + </p> + <p> + The struggle was brief. He began to wear plainer clothes—an Oxford + tweed coat and a flannel shirt—to talk about fame as an empty word, + and to tell his father that he was superior to all stupid conventions. + </p> + <p> + His father sent him to Australia. Then the grown-up trouble of his life + began. + </p> + <p> + He passed through the world now with eyes open for the privations of the + poor, and he saw everything in a new light. Unconsciously he was doing in + another way what his mother had done when she flew to religion from + stifled passion. He had been brought up as a sort of imperialist democrat, + but now he bettered his father's instructions. England did not want more + Parliaments, she wanted more apostles. It was not by giving votes to a + nation, but by strengthening the soul of a nation, that it became great + and free. The man for the hour was not he who revolved schemes for making + himself famous, but he who was ready to renounce everything, and if he was + great was willing to become little, and if he was rich to become poor. + There was room for an apostle—for a thousand apostles—who, + being dead to the world's glory, its money or its calls, were prepared to + do all in Christ's spirit, and to believe that in the renunciation, which + was the “secret” of Jesus, lay the only salvation remaining for the world. + </p> + <p> + He tramped through the slums of Melbourne and Sydney, and afterward + through the slums of London, returned to the Isle of Man a Christian + Socialist, and announced to his father his intention of going into the + Church. + </p> + <p> + The old man did not fume and fly out. He staggered back to his room like a + bullock to its pen after it has had its death-blow in the shambles. In the + midst of his dusty old bureau, with its labelled packets full of cuttings, + he realized that twenty years of his life had been wasted. A son was a + separate being, of a different growth, and a father was only the seed at + the root that must decay and die. + </p> + <p> + Then he made some show of resistance. + </p> + <p> + “But with your talents, boy, surely you are not going to throw away your + chances of a great name?” + </p> + <p> + “I care nothing for a great name, father,” said John. “I shall win a + greater victory than any that Parliament can give me.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my boy, my dear boy! one must either be the camel or the + camel-driver; and then society——” + </p> + <p> + “I hate society, and society would hate me. It is only for the sake of the + few godly men that God spares it as he spared Sodom for Lot's sake.” + </p> + <p> + Having braved this ordeal and nearly broken the heart of his old father, + he turned for his reward to Glory. He found her at her usual haunt on the + headlands. + </p> + <p> + “I was blushing when you came up, wasn't I?” she said. “Shall I tell you + why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “It was this,” she said, with a sweep of her hand across her bosom. + </p> + <p> + He looked puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you understand? This old rag—it's the one I was wearing + before you went away.” + </p> + <p> + He wanted to tell her how well she looked in it—better than ever now + that her bosom showed under its seamless curves, and her figure had grown + so lithe and shapely. But though she was laughing he saw she was ashamed + of her poverty, and he thought to comfort her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm to be a poor man myself in future, Glory. I've quarrelled with my + father. I'm going to take Orders.” + </p> + <p> + Her face fell. “Oh, I didn't think anybody would be poor who could help + it. To be a clergyman is all right for a poor man, perhaps, but I hate to + be poor; it's horrid.” + </p> + <p> + Then darkness fell upon his eyes and he felt sad and sick. Glory had + disappointed him. She was vain, she was worldly, she was incapable of the + higher things; she would never know what a sacrifice he had made for her; + she would think nothing of him now; but he would go on all the same, the + more earnestly because the devil had drawn a bow at him and the arrow had + gone in up to the feathers. + </p> + <p> + “With God's help I shall nail my colours to the mast,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Thus he made up his mind to follow the unrolling of the scroll. He had the + strength called character. The Church had been his beacon before, but now + it was to be his refuge. + </p> + <p> + He found no difficulty in making the necessary preparations. For a year he + read the Anglican divines—Jeremy Taylor, Hooker, Butler, Waterland, + Pearson, and Pusey—and when the time came for his ordination his + uncle, the Earl of Erin, who was now Prime Minister, obtained him a title + to a curacy under the popular and influential Canon Wealthy of All Saints, + Belgravia. The Bishop of London gave letters dimissory to the Bishop of + Sodor and Man, by whom he was examined and ordained. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of his departure for London his father, with whom there had + in the meantime been trying scenes, left him this final word of farewell: + “As I understand that you intend to lead the life of poverty, I presume + that you do not need your mother's dowry, and I shall hold myself at + liberty to dispose of it elsewhere, <i>unless</i> you require it for the + use of the young lady who is, I hear, to go up with you.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. + </h2> + <p> + “I will be a poor man among poor men,” said John Storm to himself as he + drove to his vicar's house in Eaton Place, but he awoke next morning in a + bedroom that did not answer to his ideas of a life of poverty. A footman + came with hot water and tea, and also a message from the canon overnight + saying he would be pleased to see Mr. Storm in the study after breakfast. + </p> + <p> + The study was a sumptuous apartment immediately beneath, with soft carpets + on which his feet made no noise, and tiger-skins over the backs of chairs. + As he entered it a bright-faced man in middle life, clean-shaven, wearing + a gold-mounted <i>pince-nez</i>, and bubbling over with politeness, + stepped forward to receive him. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome to London, my dear Mr. Storm. When the letter came from the Prime + Minister I said to my daughter Felicity—you will see her presently—I + trust you will be good friends—I said, 'It is a privilege, my child, + to meet any wish of the dear Earl of Erin, and I am proud to be in at the + beginning of a career that is sure to be brilliant and distinguished.'” + </p> + <p> + John Storm made some murmur of dissent. + </p> + <p> + “I trust you found your rooms to your taste, Mr. Storm?” + </p> + <p> + John Storm had found them more than he expected or desired. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, humble but comfortable, and in any case please regard them as + your own, to receive whom you please therein, and to dispense your own + hospitalities. This house is large enough. We shall not meet oftener than + we wish, so we can not quarrel. The only meal we need take together is + dinner. Don't expect too much. Simple but wholesome—that's all we + can promise you in a clergyman's family.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm answered that food was an indifferent matter to him, and that + half an hour after dinner he never knew what he had eaten. The canon + laughed and began again. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it best you should come to us, being a stranger in London, + though I confess I have never had but one of my clergy residing with me + before. He is here now. You'll see him by-and-bye. His name is Golightly, + a simple, worthy young man, from one of the smaller colleges, I believe. + Useful, you know, devoted to me and to my daughter, but of course a + different sort of person altogether, and—er——” + </p> + <p> + It was a peculiarity of the canon that whatever he began to talk about, he + always ended by talking of himself. + </p> + <p> + “I sent for you this morning, not having had the usual opportunity of + meeting before, that I might tell you something of our organization and + your own duties.... You see in me the head of a staff of six clergy.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm was not surprised; a great preacher must be followed by flocks + of the poor; it was natural that they should wish him to help them and to + minister to them. + </p> + <p> + “We have no poor in my parish, Mr. Storm.” + </p> + <p> + “No poor, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, her Majesty herself is one of my parishioners.” + </p> + <p> + “That must be a great grief to you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the poor! Ah, yes, certainly. Of course, we have our associated + charities, such as the Maternity Home, founded in Soho by Mrs. Callender—a + worthy old Scotswoman—odd and whimsical, perhaps, but rich, very + rich and influential. My clergy, however, have enough to do with the + various departments of our church work. For instance, there is the Ladies' + Society, the Fancy Needlework classes, and the Decorative Flower Guild, + not to speak of the daughter churches and the ministration in hospitals, + for I always hold—er——” + </p> + <p> + John Storm's mind had been wandering, but at the mention of the hospital + he looked up eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, the hospital. Your own duties will be chiefly concerned with our + excellent hospital of Martha's Vineyard. You will have the spiritual care + of all patients and nurses—yes, nurses also—within its + precincts, precisely as if it were your parish. 'This is my parish,' you + will say to yourself, and treat it accordingly. Not yet being in full + Orders, you will be unable to administer the sacrament, but you will have + one service daily in each of the wards, taking the wards in rotation. + There are seven wards, so there will be one service in each ward once a + week, for I always say that fewer——” + </p> + <p> + “Is it enough?” said John. “I shall be only too pleased——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, we'll see. On Wednesday evenings we have service in the church, + and nurses not on night duty are expected to attend. Some fifty of them + altogether, and rather a curious compound. Ladies among them? Yes, the + daughters of gentlemen, but also persons of all classes. You will hold + yourself responsible for their spiritual welfare. Let me see—this is + Friday—say you take the sermon on Wednesday next, if that is + agreeable. As to views, my people are of all shades of colour, so I ask my + clergy to take strictly <i>via media</i> views—strictly <i>via media</i>. + Do you intone?” + </p> + <p> + John Storm had been wandering again, but he recovered himself in time to + say he did not. + </p> + <p> + “That is a pity; our choir is so excellent—two violins, a viola, + clarinet, 'cello, double bass, the trumpets and drums, and of course the + organ. Our organist himself——” + </p> + <p> + At that moment a young clergyman came into the room, making apologies and + bowing subserviently. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, this is Mr. Golightly—the-h'm—Hon. and Rev. Mr. Storm.—You + will take charge of Mr. Storm and bring him to church on Sunday morning.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Golightly delivered his message. It was about the organist. His wife + had called to say that he had been removed to the hospital for some slight + operation, and there was some difficulty about the singer of Sunday + morning's anthem. + </p> + <p> + “Most irritating! Bring her up.” The curate went out backward. “I shall + ask you to excuse me, Mr. Storm. My daughter, Felicity—ah, here she + is.” + </p> + <p> + A tall young woman in spectacles entered. + </p> + <p> + “This is our new housemate, Mr. Storm, nephew of dear Lord Erin. Felicity, + my child, I wish you to drive Mr. Storm round and introduce him to our + people, for I always say a young clergyman in London——” + </p> + <p> + John Storm mumbled something about the Prime Minister. + </p> + <p> + “Going to pay your respects to your uncle now? Very good and proper. Next + week will do for the visits. Yes, yes. Come in, Mrs. Koenig.” + </p> + <p> + A meek, middle-aged woman had appeared at the door. She was dark, and had + deep luminous eyes with the moist look to be seen in the eyes of a tired + old terrier. + </p> + <p> + “This is the wife of our organist and choir master. Good day! Kindest + greetings to the Prime Minister.... And, by the way, let us say Monday for + the beginning of your chaplaincy at the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + The Earl of Erin, as First Lord of the Treasury, occupied the narrow, + unassuming brick house which is the Treasury residence in Downing Street. + Although the official head of the Church, with power to appoint its + bishops and highest dignitaries, he was secretly a sceptic, if not openly + a derider of spiritual things. For this attitude his early love passage + had been chiefly accountable. That strife between duty and passion which + had driven the woman he loved to religion had driven him in the other + direction and left a broad swath of desolation in his soul. He had seen + little of his brother since that evil time, and nothing whatever of his + brother's son. Then John had written, “I am soon to be bound by the awful + tie of the priesthood,” and he had thought it necessary to do something + for him. When John was announced he felt a thrill of tender feeling to + which he had long been a stranger. He got up and waited. The young man + with his mother's face and the eyes of an enthusiast was coming down the + long corridor. + </p> + <p> + John Storm saw his uncle first in the spacious old cabinet room which + looks out on the little garden and the Park. He was a gaunt old man with, + meagre mustache and hair, and a face like a death's head. He held out his + hand and smiled. His hand was cold and his smile was half tearful and half + saturnine. + </p> + <p> + “You are like your mother, John.” + </p> + <p> + John never knew her. + </p> + <p> + “When I saw her last you were a child in arms and she was younger than you + are now.” + </p> + <p> + “Where was that, uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “In her coffin, poor girl.” + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister shuffled some papers and said, “Well, is there anything + you wish for?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. I've come to thank you for what you've done already.” + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister made a deprecatory gesture. + </p> + <p> + “I almost wish you had chosen another career, John. Still, the Church has + its opportunities and its chances, and if I can ever——” + </p> + <p> + “I am satisfied; more than satisfied,” said John. “My choice is based, I + trust, on a firm vocation. God's work is great, sir; the greatest of all + in London. That is why I am so grateful to you. Think of it, sir——” + </p> + <p> + John was leaning forward in his chair with one arm stretched out. + </p> + <p> + “Of the five millions of people in this vast city, not one million cross + the threshold of church or chapel. And then remember their condition. A + hundred thousand live in constant want, slowly starving to death, every + day and hour, and a quarter of the old people of London die as paupers. + Isn't it a wonderful scene, sir? If a man is willing to be spiritually + dead to the world—to leave family and friends—to go forth + never to return, as one might go to his execution——” + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister listened to the ardent young man who was talking to him + there with his mother's voice, and then said— + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I've made a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm looked puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “I've sent you to the wrong place, John. When you wrote, I naturally + supposed you were thinking of the Church as a career, and I tried to put + you in the way of it. Do you know anything of your vicar?” + </p> + <p> + John knew that fame spoke of him as a great preacher—one of the few + who had passed through their Pentecost and come out with the gift of + tongues. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely!” The Prime Minister gave a bitter little laugh. “But let me + tell you something about him. He was a poor curate in the country where + the lord of the manor chanced to be a lady. He married the lady of the + manor. His wife died and he bought a London parish. Then, by the help of + an old actor who gave lessons in elocution, he—well, he set up his + Pentecost. Since then he has been a fashionable preacher and frequents the + houses of great people. Ten years ago he was made an honorary canon, and, + when he hears of an appointment to a bishopric, he says in a tearful + voice, 'I don't know what the dear Queen has got against me.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I had known you felt like that I should scarcely have sent you + to Canon Wealthy. And yet I hardly know where else a young man of your + opinions ... I'm afraid the Church has a good many Canon Wealthys in it.” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid!” said John. “No doubt there are Pharisees in these days just + as in the days of Christ, but the Church is still the pillar of the State——” + </p> + <p> + “The caterpillar, you mean, boy—eating out its heart and its + vitals.” + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister gave another bitter little laugh, then looked quickly + into John's flushed face and said: + </p> + <p> + “But it's poor work for an old man to sap away a young man's enthusiasm.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't do that, uncle,” said John, “because God is the absolute ruler + of all things, good and bad, and he governs both to his glory. Let him + only give us strength to endure our exile——” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like to hear you talk like that, John. I think I know what the + upshot will be. There's a gang of men about—Anglican Catholics they + call themselves; well, remember the German proverb, 'Every priestling + hides a popeling.' ... And if you <i>are</i> to be in the Church, John, is + there any reason why you shouldn't marry and be reasonable? To tell you + the truth, I'm rather a lonely old man, whatever I may seem, and if your + mother's son would give me a sort of a grandson—eh?” + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister was pretending to laugh again. + </p> + <p> + “Come, John, come, it seems a pity—a fine young fellow like you, + too. Are there no sweet young girls about in these days? Or are they all + dead and gone since I was a young fellow? I could give you a wide choice, + you know, for when a man stands high enough ... in fact, you would find me + reasonable—you might have anybody you liked, rich or poor, dark or + fair.——” + </p> + <p> + John Storm had been sitting in torment, and now he rose to go. “No, + uncle,” he said, in a thicker voice, “I shall never marry. A clergyman who + is married is bound to life by too many ties. Even his affection for his + wife is a tie. And then there is her affection for the world, its riches, + its praise, its honours.——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, we'll say no more. After all, it's better than running wild, + and that's what most young men seem to be doing nowadays. But then your + long education abroad—and your poor father left to look after + himself! Good-day to you. Come and see me now and then. How like your + mother you are sometimes! Good-day!” + </p> + <p> + When the door of the cabinet room closed on John Storm the Prime Minister + thought, “Poor boy, he's laying up for himself a big heartache one of + these fine days!” + </p> + <p> + And John Storm, going down the street with uncertain step, said to + himself: “How strange he should talk like that! But, thank God, he didn't + produce a flicker in me. I died to all that a year ago.” + </p> + <p> + Then he lifted his head and his footstep lightened, and deep in some + secret place the thought came proudly, “She shall see that to renounce the + world is to possess the world—that a man may be poor and have all + the kingdom of the world at his feet.” + </p> + <p> + He went back by the Underground from Westminster Bridge. It was midday, + and the train was crowded. His spirits were high and he talked with every + one near him. Getting out at Victoria, he came upon his vicar on the + platform and saluted him rather demonstratively. The canon responded with + some restraint and then stepped into a first-class carriage. + </p> + <p> + On turning into Eaton Place he came upon a group of people standing around + something that lay on the pavement. It was an old woman, a tattered, + bedraggled creature with a pinched and pallid face. “Is it an accident?” a + gentleman was saying, and somebody answered, “No, sir, she's gorn off in a + faint.” “Why doesn't some one take her to the hospital?” said the + gentleman, and then, like the Levite, he passed by on the other side. The + butcher's cart drew up at the curb, and the butcher jumped down, saying, + “There never <i>is</i> no p'lice about when they're wanted for anythink.” + </p> + <p> + “But they aren't wanted here, friend,” said somebody from the outside. It + was John Storm, and he was pushing his way through the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Will somebody knock at that door, please?” He lifted the old thing in his + arms and carried her toward the canon's house. The footman looked aghast. + “Let me know when the canon returns,” said John, and then marched up the + carpeted stairs to his rooms. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterward the old woman opened her eyes and said: “Anythink gorn + wrong? Wot's up? Is it the work'us?” + </p> + <p> + It was a clear case of destitution and collapse. John Storm began to feed + the old creature with the chicken and milk sent up for his own lunch. + </p> + <p> + Some time in the afternoon he heard the voice and step of the vicar in the + room below. Going down to the study, he was about to knock; but the voice + continued in varying tones, now loud, now low. During a pause he rapped, + and then, with noticeable irritation, the voice cried, “Come in!” + </p> + <p> + He found the vicar, with a manuscript in hand, rehearsing his Sunday's + sermon. It was a shock to John, but it helped him to understand what his + uncle had said about the canon's Pentecost. + </p> + <p> + The canon's brow was clouded. “Ah, is it you? I was sorry to see you + getting out of a third-class carriage to-day, Mr. Storm.” + </p> + <p> + John answered that it was the poor man's class, and therefore, he thought, + it ought to be his. + </p> + <p> + “You do yourself an injustice, Mr. Storm. Besides, to tell you the truth, + I don't choose that my assistant clergy——” + </p> + <p> + John looked ashamed. “If that is your view, sir,” he said, “I don't know + what you'll say to what I've been doing since.” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard of it, and I confess I'm not pleased. Whatever your old <i>protégée</i> + may be, my house is no place for her. I help to maintain charitable + institutions for such cases, and I will ask you to lose no time in having + her removed to the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + John was crushed. “Very well, sir, if that is your wish; only I thought + you said my rooms——Besides, the poor old thing fills her place + as well as Queen Victoria, and perhaps the angels are watching the one as + much as the other.” + </p> + <p> + Next day John Storm called to see the old woman at Martha's Vineyard, and + he saw the matron, the house doctor, and a staff nurse as well. His + adventure was known to everybody at the hospital. Once or twice he caught + looks of amused compassion, and heard a twitter of laughter. As he stood + by the bed, the old woman muttered: “I knoo ez it wuzn't the work'us, my + dear. He spoke to me friendly and squeedged my 'and.” + </p> + <p> + Coming through the wards he had looked for a face he could not see; but + just then he was aware of a young woman, in the print dress and white + apron of a nurse, standing in silence at the bed-head. It was Glory, and + her eyes were wet with tears. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't do such things,” she said hoarsely; “I can't bear it,” and + she stamped her foot. “Don't you see that these people——” + </p> + <p> + But she turned about and was gone before he could reply. Glory was ashamed + for him. Perhaps she had been taking his part! He felt the blood mounting + to his face, and his cheeks tingling. Glory! His eyes were swimming, and + he dared not look after her; but he could have found it in his heart to + kiss the old bag of bones on the bed. + </p> + <p> + That night he wrote to the parson in the island: “Glory has left off her + home garments, and now looks more beautiful than ever in the white + simplicity of the costume of the nurse. Her vocation is a great one. God + grant she may hold on to it!” Then something about the fallacy of + ceremonial religion and the impossibility of pleasing God by such + religious formalities. “But if we have publicans and Pharisees now, even + as they existed in Christ's time, all the more service is waiting for that + man for whom life has no ambitions, death no terrors. I thank God I am in + a great measure dead to these things.... I will fulfil my promise to look + after Glory. My constant prayer is against Agag. It is so easy for him to + get a foothold in a girl's heart here. This great new world, with its + fashions, its gaieties, its beauty, and its brightness—no wonder if + a beautiful young girl, tingling with life and ruddy health, should burn + with impatience to fling herself into the arms of it. Agag is in London, + and as insinuating as ever.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. + </h2> + <p> + On Sunday morning his fellow-curate came to his room to accompany him to + church. The Rev. Joshua Golightly was a little man with a hook nose, small + keen eyes, scanty hair, and a voice that was something between a whisper + and a whistle. He bowed subserviently, and made meek little speeches. + </p> + <p> + “I do trust you will not be disappointed with our church and service. We + do all we can to make them worthy of our people.” + </p> + <p> + As they walked down the streets he talked first of the church officers—there + were honorary wardens, gentlemen sidesmen, and lady superintendents of + floral decorations; then of the choir, which consisted of organist and + choir master, professional members, voluntary members, and choir + secretary. The anthem was sung by a professional singer, generally the + tenor from the opera; the canon could always get such people—he was + a great favourite with artistes and “the profession.” Of course, the + singers were paid, and the difficulty this week had been due to the + exorbitant fee demanded by the Italian barytone from Covent Garden. + </p> + <p> + Disappointment and disenchantment were falling on John Storm at every + step. + </p> + <p> + All Saints' was a plain, dark structure with a courtyard in front. The + bells were ringing, and a line of carriages was drawing up at the portico + as at the entrance to a theatre, discharging their occupants and passing + on. Vergers in yellow and buff, with knee-breeches, silk stockings, and + powdered wigs, were receiving the congregation at the doors. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go in by the west door—I should like you to see the screen + to advantage,” said Mr. Golightly. + </p> + <p> + The inside of the church was gorgeous. As far up as the clerestory every + wall was frescoed, and every timber of the roof was gilded. At the chancel + end there was a wrought-iron screen of delicate tracery, and the altar was + laden with gold candlesticks. Above the altar and at either side of it + were stained glass windows. The morning sun was shining through them and + filling the chancel with warm splashes of light. Ladies in beautiful + spring dresses were following the vergers up the aisles. + </p> + <p> + “This way,” the curate whispered, and John Storm entered the sacristy by a + low doorway like the auditorium entrance to a stage. There he met some six + others of his fellow-curates. They nodded to him and went on arranging + their surplices. The choir were gathering in their own quarters, where the + violins were tuning up and the choir boys were laughing and behaving after + their kind. + </p> + <p> + The bell slackened and stopped, and the organ began to play. When all were + ready they stepped into a long corridor and formed in line with their + faces to the chancel and their backs to a little door, at which a verger + in blue stood guard. + </p> + <p> + “The canon's room,” whispered Mr. Golightly. + </p> + <p> + A prayer was said by some one, the choir sang the response, and then they + walked in procession to their places in the chancel, the choir boys first, + the canon last. Seen through the tracery of the screen, the congregation + appeared to fill every sitting in the church with a blaze of light and + colour, and the atmosphere was laden with delicate perfume. + </p> + <p> + The service was choral. An anthem was sung at the close of the sermon, the + collection being made during the hymn before it. The professional singer + looked like any other chorister in his surplice, save for his swarthy face + and heavy mustache. + </p> + <p> + The canon preached. He wore his doctor's hood of scarlet cloth. His sermon + was eloquent and literary, and it was delivered with elocutionary power. + There were many references to great writers, painters, and musicians, + including a panegyric on Michael Angelo and a quotation from Browning. The + sermon concluded with a passage from Dante in the original. + </p> + <p> + John Storm was dazed and perplexed. When the service was over he came out + alone, returning down the nave, which was now empty but still fragrant. + Among other notices pasted on a board in the porch he found this one: “The + vicar and wardens, having learned with regret that purses have been lost + on leaving the church, recommend the congregation to bring only such money + as they may need for the offertory.” + </p> + <p> + Had he been to the house of God? No matter! God ruled the world in + righteousness and wrought out everything to his own glory. + </p> + <p> + Next morning he began duty as chaplain at the hospital, and when he had + finished the reading of his first prayers he could see that he had lived + down some of the derision due to his adventure with the old woman. That + poor old bag of bones was sinking and could not last much longer. + </p> + <p> + Going out by way of the dispensary, he saw Glory again, and heard that she + had been at church the day before. It was lovely. All those hundreds of + nice-looking people in gay colours, with the rustle of silk and the hum of + voices—it was beautiful—it reminded her of the sea in summer. + He asked her what she thought of the sermon, and she said, “Well, it + wasn't religion exactly—not what I call religion—not a + 'reg'lar rousing rampage for sowls,' as old Chalse used to say, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Glory,” he said impetuously, “I'm to preach my first sermon on + Wednesday.” + </p> + <p> + He did not ask her to come, but inquired if she was on night duty. She + answered No, and then somebody called her. + </p> + <p> + “She'll be there,” he told himself, and he walked home with uplifted head. + He would look for her; he would catch her eye; she would see that it was + not necessary to be ashamed of him again. + </p> + <p> + And then close behind, very close, came recollections of her appearance. + He could reconstruct her new dress by memory—her face was easy to + remember. “After all, beauty is a kind of virtue,” he thought. “And all + natural friendship is good for the progress of souls if it is built upon + the love of God.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote nothing and learned nothing by heart. The only preparation he + made for his sermon was thought and prayer. When the Wednesday night came + he was very nervous. But the church was nearly empty, and the vergers, who + were in their everyday clothes, had only partially lit up the nave. The + canon had done him the honour to be present; his fellow-curates read the + prayers and lessons. + </p> + <p> + As he ascended the pulpit he thought he saw the white bonnets of a group + of nurses in the dim distance of one of the aisles, but he did not see + Glory and he dared not look again. His text was, “My kingdom is not of + this world.” He gave it out twice, and his voice sounded strange to + himself—so weak and thin in that hollow place. + </p> + <p> + When he began to speak his sentences seemed awkward and difficult. The + things of the world were temporal and the nations of the world were out of + harmony with God. Men were biting and devouring each other who ought to + live as brothers. “Cheat or be cheated” was the rule of life, as the + modern philosopher had said. On the one side were the many dying of want, + on the other side the few occupied with poetry and art, writing addresses + to flowers, and peddling—in the portraiture of the moods and methods + of love, living lives of frivolity, taking pleasure in mere riches and the + lusts of the eye, while thousands of wretched mortals were grovelling in + the mire.... Then where was our refuge? ... The Church was the refuge of + God's people ... from Christ came the answer—the answer—the—— + </p> + <p> + His words would not flow. He fought hard, threw out another passage, then + stammered, began again, stammered again, felt hot, made a fresh effort, + flagged, rattled out some words he had fixed in his mind, perspired, lost + his voice, and finally stopped in the middle of a sentence and said, “And + now to God the Father—” and came down from the pulpit. + </p> + <p> + His sermon had been a failure, and he knew it. On going back to the + sacristy the Reverend Golightly congratulated him with a simper and a + vapid smile. The canon was more honest but more vain. He mingled lofty + advice with gentle reproof. Mr. Storm had taken his task too lightly. + Better if he had written his sermon and read it. Whatever might serve for + the country, congregations in London—at All Saints' especially—expected + culture and preparation. + </p> + <p> + “For my own part I confess—nay, I am proud to declare—my + watchword is Rehearse! Rehearse! Rehearse!” + </p> + <p> + As for the doctrine of the sermon it was not above question. It was + necessary to live in the <i>nineteenth</i> century, and it was impossible + to apply to its conditions the rules of life that had been proper to the + first. + </p> + <p> + John Storm made no resistance. He slept badly that night. As often as he + dozed off he dreamed that he was trying to do something he could not do, + and when he awoke he became hot as with the memory of a disgrace. And + always at the back of his shame was the thought of Glory. + </p> + <p> + Next morning he was alone in his room and fumbling the toast on his + breakfast table, when the door opened and a cheery voice cried, “May I no + come in, laddie?” + </p> + <p> + An elderly lady entered. She was tall and slight and had a long, fine + face, with shrewd but kindly eyes, and nearly snow-white hair. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Jane Callender,” she said, “and I couldna wait for an introduction or + sic bother, but must just come and see ye. Ay, laddie, it was a bonnie + sermon yon! I havena heard the match of it since I came frae Edinburgh and + sat under the good Doctor Guthrie. Now <i>he</i> was nae slavish reader + neither—none of your paper preachers was Thomas. My word, but you + gave us the right doctrine, too! They're given over to the worship of + Beelzebub—half these church-going folks! Oh, these Pharisees! They + are enough to sour milk. I wish they had one neck and somebody would just + squeeze it. Now, where did ye hear that, Jane? But no matter! And the + lasses are worse than the men, with their fashions and foldololls. They + love Jesus, but they like him best in heaven, not bothering down in + Belgravia. But I must be going my ways. I left James on the street, and + there's nae living with the man if you keep his horses waiting. + Good-morning til ye! But eh, laddie, I'm afraid for ye! I'm thinking—I'm + thinking ... but come and see me at Victoria Square. Good-morning!” + </p> + <p> + She had rattled this off at a breath, and had hardly given time for a + reply, when her black silk was rustling down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + John Storm remembered that the canon had spoken of her. She was the good + woman who kept the home for girls at Soho. + </p> + <p> + “The good creature only came to comfort me,” he thought. But Glory! What + was Glory thinking? That morning after prayers at the hospital he went in + search of her in the out-patient department, but she pretended to be + overwhelmed with work, and only nodded and smiled and excused herself. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't got a moment this morning either for the king or his dog. I'm + up to my eyes in bandages, and have fourteen plasters on my conscience, + and now I must run away to my little boy whose leg was amputated on + Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + He understood her, but he came back in the evening and was resolved to + face it out. + </p> + <p> + “What did you think of last night, Glory?” Then she put on a look of blank + amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what happened? Oh, of course, the sermon! How stupid of me! Do you + know I forgot all about it?” + </p> + <p> + “You were not there, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me. Really, I'm ashamed; after my promise to grandfather, too! + But Wednesday doesn't count anyway, does it? You'll preach on Sunday—and + then!” + </p> + <p> + His feeling of relief was followed by a sense of deeper humiliation. Glory + had not even troubled herself to remember. Evidently he was nothing to + her, nothing; while she—— + </p> + <p> + He walked home through St. James's Park, and under the tall trees the + peaceful silence of the night came down on him. The sharp clack of the + streets was deadened to a low hum as of the sea afar off. Across the + gardens he could see the clock in the tower of Westminster, and hear the + great bell strike the quarters. London! How little and selfish all + personal thoughts were in the contemplation of the mighty city! He had + been thinking only of himself and his own little doings. It was all so + small and pitiful! + </p> + <p> + “Did my shame at my failure in the pulpit proceed solely from fear of + losing the service of God, or did it proceed from wounded ambition, from + pride, from thoughts of Glory——” + </p> + <p> + But the peaceful stars were over him. It was a majestic night. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. + </h2> + <p> + “Martha's Vineyard. + </p> + + <p> + “Dear Auntie Rachel: Tell grandpa, to begin with, that John Storm preached + his first sermon on Wednesday last, and, according to programme, I was + there to hear it. Oh, God bless me! What a time I had of it! He broke down + in the middle, taking stage fright or pulpit fright or some such devilry, + though there was nothing to be afraid of except a bandboxful of chattering + girls who didn't listen, and a few old fogies with ear-trumpets. I was + sitting in the darkness at the back, effectually concealed from the + preacher by the broad shoulders of Ward Sister Allworthy, who is an + example of 'delicate femaleism' just verging on old-maidenism. They tell + me the 'discoorse' was a short one, but I never got so many prayers into + the time in all my born days, and my breath was coming and going so fast + that the Sister must have thought they had set up a pumping-engine in the + pew behind her. Our poor, heavy-laden Mr. Storm has been here since then + with his sad and eager face, but I hadn't the stuff in me to tell him the + truth about the sermon, so I told him I had forgotten to go and hear it, + and may the Lord have mercy on my soul! + </p> + <p> + “You want to know how I employ my time? Well, lest you should think I give + up my days to dreams and my nights to idleness, I hasten to tell that I + rise at 6, breakfast at 6.30, begin duty at 7, sup at 9.30 P.M., gossip + till 10, and then go into my room and put myself to bed; and there I am at + the end of it. Being only a probationer, I am chiefly in the out-patient + department, where my duties are to collect the things wanted at the + dispensary, make the patients ready to see the surgeon, and pass them on + to the dressers. My patients at present are the children, and I love them, + and shall break my heart when I have to leave them. They are not always + too well looked after by the surgeon, but that doesn't matter in the + least, because, you see, they are constantly watched by the best and most + learned doctor in the world—that's me. + </p> + <p> + “Last Saturday I had my first experience of the operating theatre. + Gracious goodness! I thought I shouldn't survive it. Fortunately, I had my + dressings and sponges to look after, so I just stiffened my back with a + sort of imaginary six-foot steel bar, and went on 'like blazes.' But some + of these staff nurses are just 'ter'ble'; they take a professional + pleasure in descending to that inferno, and wouldn't miss a 'theatre' for + worlds. On Saturday it was a little boy of five who had his leg amputated, + and now when you ask the white-faced darling where he's going to he says + he's going to the angels, and he'll get lots of gristly pork up there. He + <i>is</i> too. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>personnel</i> of our vineyard is abundant, but there are various + sour grapes growing about. We have a medical school (containing lots of + nice boys, only a girl may not speak to them even in the corridors), and a + full staff of honorary and visiting physicians and surgeons. But the only + doctor we really have much to do with is the house surgeon, a young fellow + who has just finished his student's course. His name is Abery, and since + Saturday he has so much respect for Glory that she might even swear in his + presence (in Manx), but Sister Allworthy takes care that she doesn't, + having designs on his celibacy herself. He must have sung his <i>Te Deum</i> + after the operation, for he got gloriously drunk and wanted to inject + morphia in a patient recovering from trouble of the kidney. It was an old + hippopotamus of a German musician named Koenig, and he was in a frantic + terror. So I whispered to him to pretend to go to sleep, and then I told + the doctor I had lost the syringe. But—'Gough bless me sowl!'—what + a dressing the Sister gave me! + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday was visiting-day, and when the friends of the patients come + even an hospital can have its humours. They try to sneak in little + dainties which may be delicious in themselves, but are deadly poison to + the people they are intended for. Then we have to search under the + bedclothes of the patients, and even feel the pockets of their visitors. + The mother of my little boy came yesterday, and I noticed such a large + protuberance at her bosom under her ulster that I began to foresee another + operation. It was only a brick of currant cake, paved with lemon peel. I + hauled it out and moved round like a cloud of thunder and lightning. But + she began to cry and to say she had made it herself for Johnnie, and then—well, + didn't I just get a wigging from the Sister, though! + </p> + <p> + “But I don't mind what happens here, for I am in London, and to be in + London is to live, and to live is to be in London. I've not seen much of + it yet, having only two hours off duty every day—from ten to twelve—and + then all I can do is to make little dips into the park and the district + round about, like a new pigeon with its wings clipped. But I watch the + great new world from my big box up here, and see the carriages in the park + and the people riding on horseback. They have a new handshake in London. + You lift your hand to the level of your shoulder, and then waggle + horizontally as if you had put your elbow out; and when you begin to speak + you say, 'I—er—' as if you had got the mumps. But it is + beautiful! The sound of the traffic is like music, and I feel like a + war-horse that wants to be marching to it. How delightful it is to be + young in a world so full of loveliness! And if you are not very ugly it's + none the worse. + </p> + <p> + “All hospital nurses are just now basking in the sunshine of a forthcoming + ball. It is to be given at Bartimaeus's Hospital, where they have a + lecture theatre larger than the common, and the dancing there is for once + to be to a happier tune. All the earth is to be present—all the + hospital earth—and if I could afford to array myself in the + necessary splendour, I should show this benighted London what an absolute + angel Glory is! But then my first full holiday is to be on the 24th, when + I expect to be out from 10 A. M. until 10 P. M. I am nearly crazy whenever + I think of it, and when the time comes to make my first plunge into + London, I know I shall hold my breath exactly as if I were taking a header + off Creg Malin rocks.... Glory.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. + </h2> + <p> + On the morning of the 24th Glory rose at five, that she might get through + her work and have the entire day for her holiday. At that hour she came + upon a rough-haired nurse wearing her cap a little on one side and washing + a floor with disinfectants. Being in great spirits, Glory addressed her + cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Are you off to-day too?” she said. + </p> + <p> + The nurse gave her a contemptuous glance and answered: “I'm not one of + your paying probationers, Miss—playing probationers <i>I</i> call + them. We nurses are hard-working women, whose life spells duty; and we've + got no time for sight-seeing and holiday-making.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but you are one of those who ruin the profession altogether,” said a + younger woman who had just come up. “They will expect everybody to do the + same. This is my day off, but I have to do the grate, and sweep the ward, + and make the bed, and tidy the Sister's room—and it's all through + people like you. Small thanks you get for it either, for a girl may not + even wear her hair in a fringe, and she is always expecting to hear the + matron's 'You're not fit for nursing, Miss.'” + </p> + <p> + Glory looked at her. She was an exquisitely pretty girl, with dark hair, + pink and ivory cheeks, and light-gray eyes; but her hands were coarse, and + her finger nails flat and square, and when you looked again there was a + certain blemished appearance about her beauty as of a Sèvres vase that is + cracked somewhere. + </p> + <p> + “Do you say you are off to-day?” said Glory, + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am; are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I'm strange to London. Could you take me with you—if you + are going nowhere in particular?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, dear. I've noticed you before and wanted to speak to you. + You're the girl with the splendid name—Glory, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; what is yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Polly Love.” + </p> + <p> + At ten o'clock that morning the two girls set out for their long day's + jaunt. + </p> + <p> + “Now where shall we go?” said Polly. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go where we can see a great many people,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “That's easy enough, for this is the Queen's birthday, and——” + </p> + <p> + Glory thought of Aunt Rachel and made a cry of delight. + </p> + <p> + “And now that I think of it,” said Polly, as if by a sudden memory, “I've + got tickets for the trooping of the colours—the Queen's colours, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we see her?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “What a question! Why, no, but we'll see the soldiers, and the generals, + and perhaps the Prince. It's at ten-thirty, and only across the park.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” said Glory, and she began to drag at her companion and to + run. + </p> + <p> + “My gracious, what a girl you are, to be sure!” + </p> + <p> + But they were both running in another minute, and laughing and chattering + like children escaped from school. In a quarter of an hour they were at + the entrance to the Horse Guards. There was a crowd at the gates, and a + policeman was taking tickets. Polly dived into her pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Where are mine? Oh, here they are. A great friend gave me them,” she + whispered. “He has a chum in one of those offices.” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman,” said Glory with studied politeness; but they were crushing + through the gate by that time, and thereafter she had eyes and ears for + nothing but the pageant before her. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful morning, and the spring foliage of the park was very + green and fresh. Three sides of the great square were lined with redcoats; + the square itself was thronged with people, and every window and balcony + looking over it was filled. There were soldiers, sentries, policemen, the + generals in cocked hats, and the Prince himself in a bearskin, riding by + with the jingle of spurs and curb-chain. Then the ta-ra-ta-ta-ra of the + bugle, the explosive voice crying, “Escort for the colour!” the officer + carrying it, the white gloves of the staff fluttering up the salute, the + flash of bayonets, the march round, and the band playing The British + Grenadiers. It was like a dream to Glory. She felt her bosom heaving, and + was afraid she was going to cry. + </p> + <p> + Polly was laughing and prattling merrily. “Ha, ha, ha! see that soldier + chasing a sunshade? My! he has caught it with his sword.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose these are all great people,” whispered Glory. + </p> + <p> + “I should think so,” said Polly. “Do you see that gentleman in the window + opposite?—that's the Foreign Office.” + </p> + <p> + “Which?” said Glory, but her eyes were wandering. + </p> + <p> + “The one in the frock-coat and the silk hat, talking to the lady in the + green lawn and the black lace fichu and the spring bonnet.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean beside that plain girl wearing the jungle of rhododendrons?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that's the gentleman that gave my friend the tickets.” + </p> + <p> + Glory looked at him for a moment, and something very remote seemed to stir + in her memory; but the band was playing once more, and she was wafted away + again. It was God save the Queen this time, and when it ended and + everybody cried “All over!” she took a long, deep breath and said, “<i>Well!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Polly was laughing at her, and Glory had to laugh also. They set each + other off laughing, and people began to look at them, and then they had to + laugh again and run away. + </p> + <p> + “This Glory is the funniest girl,” said Polly; “she is surprised at the + simplest thing.” + </p> + <p> + They went to look at the shops, passing up Regent Street, across the + Circus and down Oxford Street toward the City, laughing and talking + nonsense all the time. Once when they made a little purchase at a shop the + shopwoman looked astonished at the freedom with which they carried + themselves, and after that they felt inclined to go into every shop in the + street and behave absurdly everywhere. In the course of two hours they had + accomplished all the innocent follies possible to the intoxication of + youth, and were perfectly happy. + </p> + <p> + By this time they had reached the Bank and were feeling the prickings of + hunger, so they looked out a restaurant in Cheapside and went in for some + dinner. The place was full of men, and several of them rose at once when + the two girls entered. They were in their out-door hospital costume, but + there was something showy about Polly's toilet, and the men kept looking + their way and smiling. Glory looked back boldly and said in an audible + voice, “What fun it must be to be a barmaid, and to have the gentlemen + wink at you, and be laughing back at them!” But Polly nudged, her and told + her to be quiet. She looked down herself, but nevertheless contrived to + use her eyes as a kind of furtive electric battery in the midst of the + most innocent conversation. It was clear that Polly had flown farthest in + the ways of the world, and when you looked at her again you could see that + the balance of her life had been deranged by some one. + </p> + <p> + After dinner the girls got into an omnibus and went still farther east, + sitting at opposite sides of the car, and laughing and talking loudly to + each other, amid the astonishment of the other occupants. But when they + came to mean and ugly streets with green-grocers' barrows by the + curbstone, and weird and dreary cemeteries in the midst of gaunt, green + sticks that were trying to look like trees, Glory thought they had better + return. + </p> + <p> + They went back by the Thames steamboat from some landing stage among the + docks. The steamer picked up passengers at every station on the river, and + at London Bridge a band came aboard. As they sailed under St. Paul's the + boat was crowded with people going west to see the celebrations in honour + of the birthday, and the band was playing And her Golden Hair was hanging + down her Back. + </p> + <p> + At one moment Glory was wild with delight, and at the next her gaiety + seemed to be suddenly extinguished. The sun was setting behind the towers + of Westminster in a magnificent lake of fire, and it seemed like the sun + going down at Peel, except that the lights beneath, which glistened and + flashed, were windows, not waves, and the deep hum was not the noise of + the mighty sea, but the noise of mighty millions. + </p> + <p> + They landed at Westminster Bridge and went to a tearoom for tea. When they + came out it was quite dark, and they got on to the top of an omnibus. But + the town was now ablaze with gas and electric lights that were flinging + out the initials of the Queen, and Whitehall was dense with carriages + going to the official receptions. Glory wanted to be in the midst of so + much life, so the girls got down and walked arm in arm. + </p> + <p> + As they passed through Piccadilly Circus they were laughing again, for the + oppression of the crowds made them happy. The throng was greatest at that + point and they had to push their way through. Among others there were many + gaily-dressed women, who seemed to be waiting for omnibuses. Glory noticed + that two of these women, who were grimacing and lisping, had spoken to a + man who was also lounging about. She tugged at Polly's arm. + </p> + <p> + “That's strange! Did you see that?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “That! Oh, that's nothing. It's done every day,” said Polly. + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you don't mean to say—well, this, Glory—— Really + your friends ought to take care of you, my dear, you are so ignorant of + the world.” + </p> + <p> + And then suddenly, as by a flash of lightning, Glory had her first glimpse + of the tragic issues of life. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my gracious! Come along,” she whispered, and dragged Polly after her. + </p> + <p> + They were panting past the end of St. James's Street when a man with an + eye-glass and a great shield of shirt-front collided with them and saluted + them. Glory was for forging ahead, but Polly had drawn up. + </p> + <p> + “It's only my friend,” said Polly in another voice.—“This is a new + nurse. Her name is Glory.” + </p> + <p> + The man said something about a glorious name and a glorious pleasure to be + nursed by such a nurse, and then both the girls laughed. He was glad they + had found his tickets useful, but sorry he could not see them back to the + hospital, being dragged away to the bally Foreign Office reception in + honour of the Queen's birthday. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm coming to the ball, you know, and,” with a glance at Glory, “I've + half a mind to bring my chum along with me!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do,” said Polly, partly covering the pupils of her eyes with her + eyelids. + </p> + <p> + The man lowered his voice and said something about Glory which Glory did + not catch, then waved his white-kid glove, saying “Ta-ta,” and was gone. + </p> + <p> + “Is he married?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Married! Good gracious, no; what ridiculous ideas you've got!” + </p> + <p> + It was ten minutes after ten as the girls turned in at a sharp trot at the + door of the hospital, still prattling and chattering and bringing some of + the gaiety and nonsense of their holiday into the quiet precincts of the + house of pain. The porter shook his finger at them with mock severity, and + a ward Sister going through the porch in her white silence stopped to say + that a patient had been crying out for one of them. + </p> + <p> + “It's me—I know it's me,” said Polly. “I've got a brother here out + of a monastery, and he can't do with anybody else about him. It makes me + tired of my life.” + </p> + <p> + But it was Glory who was wanted. The woman whom John Storm had picked up + out of the streets was dying. Glory had helped to nurse her, and the poor + old thing had kept herself alive that she might deliver to Glory her last + charge and message. She could see nobody, so Glory leaned over the bed and + spoke to her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm here, mammie; what is it?” she said, and the flushed young face bent + close above the withered and white one. + </p> + <p> + “He spoke to me friendly and squeedged my 'and, he did. S'elp me never, + it's true. Gimme a black cloth on the corfin, my dear, and mind yer tell + 'im to foller.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mammie, yes. I will-be sure I—I—Oh!” + </p> + <p> + It was Glory's first death. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. + </h2> + <p> + John Storm had been through his first morning call that afternoon. For + this ordeal he had presented himself in a flannel shirt in the hall, where + the canon was waiting for him in patent-leather boots and kid gloves, and + his daughter Felicity in cream silk and white feathers. After they had + seated themselves in the carriage the canon, said: “You don't quite do + yourself justice, Mr. Storm. Believe me, to be well dressed is a great + thing to a young man making his way in London.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage stopped at a house that seemed to be only round the corner. + </p> + <p> + “This is Mrs. Macrae's,” the canon whispered. “An American lady-widow of a + millionaire. Her daughter—you will see her presently—is to + marry into one of our best English families.” + </p> + <p> + They were walking up the wide staircase behind the footman in blue. There + was a buzz of voices coming from a room above. + </p> + <p> + “Canon—er—Wealthy, Miss Wealthy, and—er—the—h'm—Rev. + Mr. Storm!” + </p> + <p> + The buzz of voices abated, and a bright-faced little woman, showily + dressed, came forward and welcomed them with a marked accent. There were + several other ladies in the room, but only one gentleman. This person, who + was standing, with teacup and saucer in hand, at the farther side, screwed + an eyeglass in his eye, looked across at John Storm, and then said + something to the lady in the chair beside him. The lady tittered a little. + John Storm looked back at the man, as if by an instinctive certainty that + he must know him when he saw him again. He was engulfed in a high, stiff + collar, and was rather ugly; tall, slender, a little past thirty; fair, + with soft, sleepy eyes, and no life in his expression, but agreeable; fit + for good society, with the stamp of good breeding, and capable of saying + little humorous things in a thin “roofy” voice. + </p> + <p> + “I was real sorry I didn't hear Mr. Storm Wednesday evening,” Mrs. Macrae + was saying, with a mincing smile. “My daughter told me it was just too + lovely.—Mercy, this is your great preacher. Persuade him to come to + my 'At Home' Tuesday.” + </p> + <p> + A tall, dark girl, with gentle manners and a beautiful face, came slowly + forward, put her hand into John's, and looked steadily into his eyes + without speaking. Then the gentleman with the eyeglass said suavely, “Have + you been long in London, Mr. Storm?” + </p> + <p> + “Two weeks,” John answered shortly, and half turned his head. + </p> + <p> + “How—er—interesting!” with a prolonged drawl and a little cold + titter. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord Robert Ure—Mr. Storm,” said the hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Storm has done me the honour to become one of my assistant clergy, + Lord Robert,” said the canon, “but he is not likely to be a curate long.” + </p> + <p> + “That is charming,” said Lord Robert. “It is always a relief to hear that + I am likely to have one candidate the less for my poor perpetual curacy in + Pimlico. They're at me like flies round a honey-pot, don't you know. I + thought I had made the acquaintance of all the perpetual curates in + Christendom. And what a sweet team they are, to be sure! The last of them + came yesterday. I was out, and my friend Drake—Drake of the Home + Office, you know—couldn't give the man the living, so he gave him + sixpence instead, and the creature went away quite satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + Everybody seemed to laugh except John, who only stared into the air, and + the loudest laughter came from the canon. But suddenly an incisive voice + said: + </p> + <p> + “But why sharpen your teeth on the poor curates? Is there no a canon or a + bishop handy that's better worth a bite?” + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs. Callender. + </p> + <p> + “I tell ye a story too, only <i>mine</i> shall be a true one.” + </p> + <p> + “Jane! Jane!” said the hostess, shaking her fan as a weapon; and Lord + Robert stretched his neck over his collar and made an amiable smile. + </p> + <p> + “A girl of eighteen came to me this morning at Soho, and she was in the + usual trouble. The father was a wicked rector. He died last year leaving + thirty-one thousand pounds; and the mother of his unfortunate child—that + is to say, his mistress—is now in the Union.” + </p> + <p> + It was the first sincere word that had been spoken, where every tone had + been wrong, every gesture false, and it fell on the company like a + thunderclap. John Storm drew his breath hard, looked up at Lord Robert by + a strange impulse, and felt himself avenged. + </p> + <p> + “What a beautiful day it has been!” said somebody. Everybody looked up at + the maker of this surprising remark. It was a lady, and she blushed until + her cheeks burned again. + </p> + <p> + A painful silence followed, and then the hostess turned to Lord Robert and + said: + </p> + <p> + “You spoke of your friend Drake, didn't you? Everybody is talking of him, + and as for the girls, they seem to be crazy about the man. So handsome, + they say; so natural, and such a splendid talker. But then, girls are so + quick to take fancies to people. You really must take care of yourself, my + dear.” (This to Felicity.) “Who is he? Lord Robert will tell you—an + official of some kind, and son of Sir something Drake, of one of the + northern counties. He knows the secret of getting on in the world, though + he doesn't go about too much. But I've determined not to live any longer + without making the acquaintance of this wonderful being, so Lord Robert + must just bring him along Tuesday evening, or else——” + </p> + <p> + John Storm escaped at last, without promising to come to the “At Home.” He + went direct to the hospital and learned that Glory was out for the day. + Where she could have gone, and what she could be doing, puzzled him + grievously. That she had not put herself under his counsel and direction + on her first excursion abroad hurt his pride and wounded his sense of + responsibility. As the night fell his anxiety increased. Though he knew + she would not return until ten, he set out at nine to meet her. + </p> + <p> + At a venture he took the eastward course, and passed slowly down + Piccadilly. The façade of nearly every club facing the park was flaming + with electric light. Young men in evening dress were standing on the + steps, smoking and taking the air after dinner, and pretty girls in showy + costumes were promenading leisurely in front of them. Sometimes, as a girl + passed, she looked sharply up and the corner of her mouth would be raised + a little, and when she had gone by there would be a general burst of + laughter. + </p> + <p> + John's blood boiled, and then his heart sank; he felt so helpless, his + pity and indignation were so useless and unnecessary. All at once he saw + what he had been looking for. As he went by the corner of St. James's + Street he almost ran against Glory and another nurse in the costume of + their hospital. They did not observe him; they were talking to a man; it + was the man he had met in the afternoon—Lord Robert Ure. + </p> + <p> + John heard the man say, “Your Glory is such a glorious——” and + then he lowered his voice, and appeared to say something that was very + amusing, for the other girl laughed a great deal. + </p> + <p> + John's soul was now fairly in revolt, and he wanted to stop, to order the + man off and to take charge of the two nurses as his duty seemed to require + of him. But he passed them, then looked back and saw the group separate, + and as the man went by he watched the girls going westward. There was a + glimpse of them under the gas-lamp as they crossed the street, and again a + glimpse as they passed into the darkness under the trees of the park. + </p> + <p> + He could not trust himself to return to the hospital that night, and his + indignation was no less in the morning. But there was a letter from Glory + saying that his poor old friend was dead, and had begged that he would + bury her. He dressed himself in his best (“We can't take liberties with + the poor,” he thought) and walked across to the hospital at once. There he + asked for Glory, and they went downstairs together to that still chamber + underground which has always its cold and silent occupant. It is only a + short tenancy that anybody can have there, so the old woman had to be + buried the same morning. The parish was to bury her, and the van was at + the door. + </p> + <p> + He was standing with Glory in the hall, and his heart had softened to her. + </p> + <p> + “Glory,” he said, “you shouldn't have gone out yesterday without telling + me, the dangers of London are so great.” + </p> + <p> + “What dangers?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, to a young girl, a beautiful girl——” + </p> + <p> + Glory peered up under her long eyelashes. + </p> + <p> + “I mean the dangers from—I'm ashamed in my soul to say it—the + dangers from men.” + </p> + <p> + She shot up a quick glance into his face and said in a moment, “You saw + us, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I saw you, and I didn't like your choice of company.” + </p> + <p> + She dropped her head demurely and said, “The man?” + </p> + <p> + John hesitated. “I was speaking of the girl. I don't like the freedom with + which she carries herself in this house. Among these good and devoted + women is there no one but this—this——?” + </p> + <p> + Glory's lower lip began to show its inner side. “She's bright and lively, + that's all I care.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's not all <i>I</i> care, Glory, and if such men as that are her + friends outside——” + </p> + <p> + Glory's head went up. “What is it to me who are her friends outside?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything, if you allow yourself to meet them again.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” doggedly, “I am going to meet them again. I'm going to the Nurses' + Ball on Tuesday.” + </p> + <p> + John answered with deliberation, “Not in that girl's company.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I say <i>not</i> in that girl's company.” + </p> + <p> + There was a short pause, and then Glory said with a quivering mouth: “You + are vexing me, and you will end by making me cry. Don't you see you are + degrading me too? I am not used to being degraded. You see me with a weak + silly creature who hasn't an idea in her head and can do nothing but + giggle and laugh and make eyes at men, and you think I'm going to be led + away by her. Do you suppose a girl can't take care of herself?” + </p> + <p> + “As you will, then,” said John, with a fling of his hand, going off down + the steps. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Storm—Mr. Storm—Jo—Joh——” + </p> + <p> + But he was out on the pavement and getting into the workhouse van. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said a mincing voice beside her. “How jolly it is when anybody is + suffering for your sake!” It was Polly Love, and again her eyelids were + half covering her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” said Glory. Her own eyes were + swimming in big tear-drops. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you? What a funny girl you are! But your education has been + neglected, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + It was a combination van and hearse with the coffin under the driver's + box, and John Storm (as the only discoverable mourner) with the undertaker + on the seat inside. + </p> + <p> + “Will ye be willin' ter tyke the service at the cimitery, sir?” said the + undertaker, and John answered that he would. + </p> + <p> + The grave was on the paupers' side, and when the undertaker, with his man, + had lowered the coffin to its place, he said, “They've gimme abart three + more funerals this morning, so I'll leave ye now, sir, to finish 'er off.” + </p> + <p> + At the next moment John Storm in his surplice was alone with the dead, and + had opened his book to read the burial service which no other human ear + was to hear. + </p> + <p> + He read “Dust to dust, ashes to ashes,” and then the bitter loneliness of + the pauper's doom came down on his soul and silenced him. + </p> + <p> + But his imprisoned passion had to find a vent, and that night he wrote to + the Prime Minister: “I begin to understand what you meant when you said I + was in the wrong place. Oh, this London, with its society, its worldly + clergy, its art, its literature, its luxury, its idle life, all built on + the toil of the country and compounded of the sweat of the nameless poor! + Oh, this 'Circe of cities,' drawing good people to it, decoying them, + seducing them, and then turning them into swine! It seems impossible to + live in the world and to be spiritually-minded. When I try to do so I am + torn in two.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. + </h2> + <p> + On the following Tuesday evening two young men were dining in their + chambers in St. James's Street. One of them was Lord Robert Ure; the other + was his friend and housemate, Horatio Drake. Drake was younger than Lord + Robert by some seven or eight years, and also beyond comparison more + attractive. His face was manly and handsome, its expression was open and + breezy; he was broad-shouldered and splendidly built, and he had the fair + hair and blue eyes of a boy. + </p> + <p> + Their room was a large one, and it was full of beautiful and valuable + things, but the furniture was huddled about in disorder. A large + chamber-organ, a grand piano, a mandolin, and two violins, pictures on the + floor as well as on the walls, many photographs scattered about + everywhere, and the mirror over the mantelpiece fringed with + invitation-cards, which were stuck between the glass and the frame. + </p> + <p> + Their man had brought in the coffee and cigarettes. Lord Robert was + speaking in his weary drawl, which had the worn-out tone of a man who had + made a long journey and was very sleepy. + </p> + <p> + “Come, dear boy, make up your mind, and let us be off.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm tired to death of these fashionable routs.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I.” + </p> + <p> + “They're so unnatural—so unnecessary.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, of course they're unnatural—of course they're + unnecessary; but what would you have?” + </p> + <p> + “Anything human and natural,” said Drake. “I don't care a ha'p'orth about + the morality of these things—not I—but I am dead sick of their + stupidity.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert made languid puffs of his cigarette, and said, in a tearful + drawl: “My dear Drake, of course it is exactly as you say. Who doesn't + know it is so? It has always been so and always will be. But what refuge + is there for the poor leisured people but these diversions which you + despise? And as for the poor titled classes—well, they manage to + make their play their business sometimes, don't you know. Confess that + they do sometimes, now, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert was laughing with an awkward constraint, but Drake looked + frankly into his face and said: + </p> + <p> + “How's that matter going on, Robert?” + </p> + <p> + “Fairly, I think, though the girl is not very hot on it. The thing came + off last week, and when it was over I felt as if I had proposed to the + girl and been accepted by the mother, don't you know. I believe this rout + to-night is expressly in honour of the event, so I mustn't run away from + my bargain.” + </p> + <p> + He lay back, sent funnels of smoke to the ceiling, and then said, with a + laugh like a gurgle: “I'm not likely to, though. That eternal dun was here + again to-day. I had to tell him that the marriage would come off in a year + certain. That was the only understanding on which he would agree to wait + for his money. Bad? Of course it's bad; but what would you have, dear + boy?” + </p> + <p> + The men smoked in silence for a moment, and then Lord Robert said again: + “Come, old fellow, for friendship's sake, if nothing else. She's a decent + little woman, and dead bent on having you at her house to-night. And if + you're badly bored we'll not stay long. We'll come away early and—listen—we'll + slip across to the Nurses' Ball at Bartimaeus's Hospital; there'll be fun + enough there, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go,” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later the two young men were driving up to the door of Mrs. + Macrae's house in Belgrave Square. There was a line of carriages in front + of it, and they had to wait their turn to approach the gate. Footmen in + gorgeous livery were ready to open the cab door, to help the guests across + the red baize that lay on the pavement, to usher them into the hall, to + lead them to the little marble chamber where they entered their names in a + list intended for the next day's <i>Morning Post</i>, and finally to + direct them to the great staircase where the general crush moved slowly up + to the saloon above. + </p> + <p> + In the well of the stairs, half hidden behind a little forest of palms and + ferns, a band in yellow and blue uniform sat playing the people in. On the + landing the hostess stood waiting to receive, and many of the guests, by a + rotary movement like the waters of a maelstrom, moved past her in a rapid + and babbling stream, twisted about her, and came down again. She welcomed + Lord Robert effusively, and motioned to him to stand by her side. Then she + introduced her daughter to Drake and sent them adrift through the rooms. + </p> + <p> + The rooms were large ones with parquet flooring from which all furniture + had been removed, except the palms and ferns by the walls and the heavy + chandeliers overhead. It was not yet ten o'clock, but already the house + was crowded, and every moment there were floods of fresh arrivals. First + came statesmen and diplomatists, then people who had been to the theatres, + and toward the end of the evening some of the actors themselves. The night + was close and the atmosphere hot and oppressive. At the farther end of the + suite there was a refreshment-room with its lantern lights pulled open; + and there the crush was densest and the commotion greatest. The + click-clack of many voices cut the thick air as with a thousand knives, + and over the multitudinous clatter there was always the unintelligible + boom of the band downstairs. + </p> + <p> + Most of the guests looked tired. The men made some effort to be cheerful, + but the women were frankly jaded and fagged. Bedizened with diamonds, + coated with paint and powder, laden with rustling silks, they looked weary + and worn out. When spoken to they would struggle to smile, but the smiles + would break down after a moment into dismal looks of misery and + oppression. + </p> + <p> + “Had enough?” whispered Lord Robert to Drake. + </p> + <p> + Drake was satisfied, and Lord Robert began to make their excuses. + </p> + <p> + “Going already!” said Mrs. Macrae. “An official engagement, you say?—Mr. + Drake, is it? Oh, don't tell me! I know—<i>I</i> know! Well, you'll + be married and settled one of these days—and then!” + </p> + <p> + They were in a hansom cab driving across London in the direction of + Bartimaeus's Hospital. Drake was bare-headed and fanning himself with his + crush hat. Lord Robert was lighting a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! What a stifling den! Did you ever hear such a clitter-clatter? A + perfect Tower of Babel building company! What in the name of common sense + do people suppose they're doing by penning themselves up like that on a + night like this? What are they thinking about?” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking about, dear boy? You're unreasonable! Nobody wants to think + about anything in such scenes of charming folly.” + </p> + <p> + “But the women! Did you <i>ever</i> see such faded, worn-out dummies for + the display of diamonds? Poor little women in their splendid misery! I was + sorry for your <i>fiancée</i>, Robert. She was the only woman in the house + without that hateful stamp of worldliness and affectation.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Drake, you've learned many things, but there's one thing you have + not yet learned—you haven't learned how to take serious things as + trifles, and trifles as serious things. Learn it, my boy, or you'll + embitter existence. You are not going to alter the conditions of + civilization by any change in your own particular life; so just look out + the prettiest, wittiest, wealthiest little woman who is a dummy for the + display of diamonds——” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Not if I know it, old fellow! Give me a little nature and simplicity, + if it hasn't got a second gown to its back.” + </p> + <p> + “All right—as you like,” said Lord Robert, flinging out the end of + his cigarette. “You've got the pull of some of us—you can please + yourself. And here we are at old Bartimaeus's, and this is a very + different pair of shoes!” + </p> + <p> + They were driving out of one of London's main thoroughfares, through a + groined archway, into one of London's ancient buildings with its quiet + quadrangle where trees grow and birds sing. Every window of the square was + lighted up, and there was a low murmur of music being played within. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” said Lord Robert. “I am here ostensibly as the guest of the + visiting physician, don't you know, but really in the interests of the + little friend I told you of.” + </p> + <p> + “The one I got the tickets for last week?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + At the next moment they were in the ballroom. It was the lecture theatre + for the students of the hospital school—a building detached from the + wards and of circular shape, with a gallery round its walls, which were + festooned with flags and roofed with a glass dome. Some two hundred girls + and as many men were gathered there; the pit was their dancing ring and + the gallery was their withdrawing room. The men were nearly all students + of the medical schools; the girls were nearly all nurses, and they wore + their uniform: There was not one jaded face among them, not one weary look + or tired expression. They were in the fulness of youth and the height of + vigour. The girls laughed with the ring of joy, their eyes sparkled with + the light of happiness, their cheeks glowed with the freshness of health. + </p> + <p> + The two men stood a moment and looked on. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think of it?” said Lord Robert. + </p> + <p> + Drake's wide eyes were ablaze, and his voice came in gusts. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it!” he said. “It's wonderful! It's glorious!” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert's glass had dropped from his eye, and he was laughing in his + drawling way. + </p> + <p> + “What are you laughing at? Women like these are at least natural, and + Nature can not be put on.” + </p> + <p> + The mazurka had just finished, and the dancers were breaking into groups. + </p> + <p> + “Robert, tell me who is that girl over there—the one looking this + way? Is it your friend?” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert readjusted his glass. + </p> + <p> + “The pretty dark girl with the pink-and-white cheeks, like a doll?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and the taller one beside her—all hair, and eyes, and bosom. + She's looking across now. I've seen that girl before somewhere. Now, where + have I seen her? Look at her—what fire, and life, and movement! The + dance is over, but she can't keep her feet still.” + </p> + <p> + “I see—I see. But let me introduce you to the matron and doctors + first, and then——” + </p> + <p> + “I know now—I know where I've seen her! Be quick, Robert, be quick!” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert laughed again in his tired drawl. He was finding it very + amusing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. + </h2> + <p> + When Glory learned that all nurses eligible to attend the ball were to + wear hospital uniform, being on day duty she decided to go to it. But then + came John Storm's protest against the company of Polly Love, and she felt + half inclined to give it up. As often as she remembered his remonstrance + she was disturbed, and once or twice when alone she shed tears of anger + and vexation. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Polly was full of arrangements, and Glory found herself day by + day carried along in the stream of preparation. When the night came the + girls dressed in the same cubicle. Polly was prattling like a parrot, but + Glory was silent and almost sad. + </p> + <p> + By help of the curling tongs and a candle Polly did up her dark hair into + little knowing curls that went in and out on her temples and played + hide-and-seek around the pretty shells of her pink-and-white ears. Glory + was slashing the comb through her golden-red hair by way of preliminary + ploughing, when Polly cried: “Stop! Don't touch it any more, for goodness' + sake! It's perfect! Look at yourself now.” + </p> + <p> + Glory stood off from the looking glass and looked. “Am I really so nice?” + she thought; and then she remembered John Storm again, and had half a mind + to tear down her glorious curls and go straight away to bed. + </p> + <p> + She went to the ball instead, and, being there, she forgot all about her + misgivings. The light, the colour, the brilliance, the perfume transported + her to an enchanted world which she had never entered before. She could + not control her delight in it. Everything surprised her, everything + delighted her, everything amused her—she was the very soul of + girlish joy. The dark-brown spot on her eye shone out with a coquettish + light never seen in it until now, and the warble in her voice was like the + music of a happy bird. Her high spirits were infectious—her + lighthearted gaiety communicated itself to everybody. The men who might + not dance with her were smiling at the mere sight of the sunshine in her + face, and it was even whispered about that the President of the College of + Surgeons, who opened the ball, had said that her proper place was not + there—a girl like that young Irish nurse would do honour to a higher + assembly. + </p> + <p> + In that enchanted world of music and light and bright and happy faces + Glory lost all sense of time; but two hours had passed when Polly Love, + whose eyes had turned again and again to the door, tugged at her sleeve + and whispered: “They've come at last! There they are—there—directly + opposite to us. Keep your next dance, dear. They'll come across + presently.” + </p> + <p> + Glory looked where Polly had directed, and, seeing again the face she had + seen in the window of the Foreign Office, something remote and elusive + once more stirred in her memory. But it was gone in a moment, and she was + back in that world of wonders, when a voice which she knew and yet did not + know, like a voice that called to her as she was awakening out of a sleep, + said: + </p> + <p> + “Glory, don't you remember me? Have you forgotten me, Glory?” + </p> + <p> + It was her friend of the catechism class—her companion of the + adventure in the boat. Their hands met in a long hand-clasp with the + gallop of feeling that is too swift for thought. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I thought you would recognise me! How delightful!” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “And you knew me again?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Instantly—at first sight almost.” + </p> + <p> + “Really! It's strange, though. Such a long, long time—ten years at + least! I must have changed since then.” + </p> + <p> + “You have,” said Drake; “you've changed very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed now! Am I really so much changed for all? I've grown older, of + course.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, terribly older,” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “How wrong of me! But you have changed a good deal, too. You were only a + boy in jackets then.” + </p> + <p> + “And you were only a girl in short frocks.” + </p> + <p> + They both laughed, and then Drake said, “I'm so glad we've changed + together!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” said Drake; “for if you had changed and I hadn't——” + </p> + <p> + “But what nonsense we're talking!” said Glory; and they both laughed + again. + </p> + <p> + Then they told each other what had happened in that infinite cycle of time + which had spun round since they parted. Glory had not much to narrate; her + life had been empty. She had been in the Isle of Man all along, had come + to London only recently, and was now a probationer-nurse at Martha's + Vineyard. Drake had gone to Harrow and thence to Oxford, and, being a man + of artistic leanings, had wished to take up music, but his father had seen + no career in it; so he had submitted—he had entered the subterranean + catacombs of public life, and was secretary to one of the Ministers. All + this he talked of lightly, as became a young man of the world to whom + great things were of small account. + </p> + <p> + “Glory,” said Polly, at her elbow, “the waltz is going to begin.” + </p> + <p> + The band was preluding. Drake claimed the dance, and Glory was astonished + to find that she had it free (she had kept it expressly). + </p> + <p> + When the waltz was over he gave her his arm and led her into the circular + corridor to talk and to cool. His manners were perfect, and his voice, so + soft and yet so manly, increased the charm. In passing out of the hot + dancing room she threw her handkerchief over her head, and, with the hand + that was at liberty, held its ends under her chin. She wished him to look + at her and see what change this had made; so she said, quite innocently: + </p> + <p> + “And now let me look at you again, sir!” + </p> + <p> + He recognised the dark-brown spot on her eye, and he could feel her arm + through her thin print dress. + </p> + <p> + “You've told me a good deal,” he said, “but you haven't said a syllable + about the most important thing of all.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray what is that?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “How many times have you fallen in love since I saw you last?” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, what a question!” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + His audacity was delightful. There was something so gracious and yet so + masterful about him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember the day you carried me off—eloped with me, you + know?” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “I? How charming of me! But when was that, I wonder?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; say, do you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I do? What a pair of little geese we must have been in those + days!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so sure of that—<i>now</i>,'” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't seem very keen about me <i>then</i>, as far as I can + remember,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I?” said he. “What a silly young fool I must have been!” + </p> + <p> + They laughed again. She could not keep her arm still, and he could almost + feel its dimpled elbow. + </p> + <p> + “And do <i>you</i> remember the gentleman who rescued us?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You mean the tall, dark young man who kept hugging and kissing you in the + yacht?” + </p> + <p> + “Did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you forget that kind of thing, then?” + </p> + <p> + “It was very sweet of him. But he's in the Church now, and the chaplain of + our hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “What a funny little romantic world it is, to be sure!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it's like poetry, isn't it?” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert came up to introduce Drake to Polly (who was not looking her + sweetest), and he claimed Glory for the next dance. + </p> + <p> + “So you knew my friend Drake before?” said Lord Robert. + </p> + <p> + “I knew him when he was a boy,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + And then he began to sing his friend's praises—how he had taken a + brilliant degree at Oxford, and was now private secretary to the Home + Secretary, and would go into public life before long; how he could paint + and act, and might have made a reputation as a musician; how he went into + the best houses, and was a first-rate official; how, in short, he had the + promised land before him, and was just on the eve of entering it. + </p> + <p> + “Then I suppose you know he is rich—enormously rich?” said Lord + Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Is he?” said Glory, and something great and grand seemed to shimmer a + long way off. + </p> + <p> + “Enormously,” said Sir Robert; “and yet a man of the most democratic + opinions.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lord Robert; “and all the way down in the hansom he has been + trying to show me how impossible it is for him to marry a lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Now why did you tell me that I wonder?” said Glory, and Lord Robert began + to fidget with his eye-glass. + </p> + <p> + Drake returned with Polly. He proposed that they should take the air in + the quadrangle, and they went off for that purpose, the girls arm-in-arm + some paces ahead. + </p> + <p> + “There's a dash of Satan himself in that red-headed girl,” said Lord + Robert. “She understands a man before he understands himself.” + </p> + <p> + “She's as natural as Nature,” said Drake. “And what lips—what a + mouth!” + </p> + <p> + “Irish, isn't she? Oh, Manx! What's Manx, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + The night was very warm and close, and there was hardly more air in the + courtyard. The sound of the band came to them there, and Glory, who had + danced with nearly everybody within, must needs dance by herself without, + because the music was more sweet and subdued out there, and dancing in the + darkness was like a dream. + </p> + <p> + “Come and sit down on the seat, Glory,” said Polly fretfully; “you are + getting on my nerves, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Glory,” said Drake, “how do the Londoners strike you?” + </p> + <p> + “Much like other mortals,” said Glory; “no better, no worse—only + funnier.” + </p> + <p> + The men laughed at that description, and Glory proceeded to give + imitations of London manners—the high handshake, the “Ha-ha” of the + mumps, the mouthing of the canon, and the mincing of Mr. Golightly. + </p> + <p> + Drake bellowed with delight; Lord Robert drawled out a long owlish laugh; + Polly Love said spitefully, “You might give us your friend, the new + curate, next, dearest,” and then Glory went down like a shot. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” began Drake, “it's not hospital nursing, you know——” + </p> + <p> + But there were low murmurings of thunder and some large splashes of rain, + and they returned to the ballroom. The doctors and the matrons were gone + by this time; only the nurses and the students remained, and the fun was + becoming furious. One young student was pulling down a girl's hair, and + another was waltzing with his partner carried bodily in his arms. Somebody + lowered the lights, and they danced in a shadow-land; somebody began to + sing, and they all sang in chorus; then somebody began to fling about + paper bags full of tiny white wafers, and the bags burst in the air like + shells, and their contents fell like stars from a falling rocket, and + everybody was covered as with flakes of snow. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the storm had broken, and above the clash and clang of the + instruments of the band and the rhythmic shuffle of the feet of the + dancers and the clear, joyous notes of their happy singing, there was the + roar of the thunder that rolled over London, and the rattle of the rain on + the glass dome overhead. + </p> + <p> + Glory was in ecstasies; it was like a mist on Peel Bay at night with the + moon shining through it and the waves dancing to a northwest breeze. It + was like a black and stormy sea outside Contrary, with the gale coming + down from the mountains. And yet it was a world of wonder and enchantment + and beauty, and bright and happy faces. + </p> + <p> + It was morning when the ball broke up, and then the rain had abated, + though the thunder was still rumbling. The men were to see the girls back + to the hospital, and Glory and Drake sat in a hansom-cab together. + </p> + <p> + “So you always forget that kind of thing, do you?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of thing?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; <i>you</i> know!” + </p> + <p> + She had put up the hood of her outdoor cape, but he could still see the + gleam of her golden hair. + </p> + <p> + “Give me that rose,” he said; “the white one that you put in your hair.” + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Then give it to me. I'll keep it forever and ever.” + </p> + <p> + She put up her hand to her head. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! how sweet of you! And what a lovely little hand! But no; let me take + it for myself.” + </p> + <p> + He reached one arm around her shoulder, put his hand under her chin, + tipped up her face, and kissed her on the lips. + </p> + <p> + “Darling!” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Then in a moment she awoke from her world of wonder and enchantment, and + the intoxication of the evening left her. She did not speak; her head + dropped; she felt her cheeks burn red, and she hid her face in her hands. + There was a momentary sense of dishonour, almost of outrage. Drake treated + her lightly, and she was herself to blame. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Glory!” he was saying, in a voice tremulous and intense. “It + shall never happen again—never—so help me God!” + </p> + <p> + The day was dawning, and the last raindrops were splashing on the wet and + empty pavement. The great city lay asleep, and the distant thunder was + rolling away from it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. + </h2> + <p> + The chaplain of Martha's Vineyard had not been to the hospital ball. + Before it came off he had thought of it a good deal, and as often as he + remembered that he had protested to Glory against the company of Polly + Love he felt hot and ashamed. Polly was shallow and frivolous, and had a + little crab-apple of a heart, but he knew no harm of her. It was hardly + manly to make a dead set at the little thing because she was foolish and + fond of dress, and because she knew a man who displeased him. + </p> + <p> + Then she was Glory's only companion, and to protest against Glory going in + her company was to protest against Glory going at all. That seemed a + selfish thing to do. Why should he deny her the delights of the ball? He + could not go to it himself—he would not if he could; but girls liked + such things—they loved to dance, and to be looked at and admired, + and have men about them paying court and talking nonsense. + </p> + <p> + There was a sting in that thought, too; but he struggled to be + magnanimous. He was above all mean and unmanly feelings—he would + withdraw his objection. + </p> + <p> + He did not withdraw it. Some evil spirit whispered in his heart that Glory + was drifting away from him. This was the time to see for certain whether + she had passed out of the range of his influence. If she respected his + authority she would not go. If she went, he had lost his hold of her, and + their old relations were at an end. + </p> + <p> + On the night of the ball he walked over to the hospital and asked for her. + She had gone, and it seemed as if the earth itself had given way beneath + his feet. + </p> + <p> + He could not help feeling bitterly about Polly Love, and that caused him + to remember a patient to whom her selfish little heart had shown no + kindness. It was her brother. He was some nine or ten years older, and + very different in character. His face was pale and thin—almost + ascetic—and he had the fiery and watery eyes of the devotee. He had + broken a blood-vessel and was threatened with consumption, but his case + was not considered dangerous. When Polly was about, his eyes would follow + her round the ward with something of the humble entreaty of a dog. It was + clear that he loved his sister, and was constantly thinking of her. But + she hardly ever looked in his direction, and when she spoke to him it was + in a cold or fretful voice. + </p> + <p> + John Storm had observed this. It had brought him close to the young man, + and the starved and silent heart had opened out to him. He was a + lay-brother in an Anglican Brotherhood that was settled in Bishopsgate + Street. His monastic name was Brother Paul. He had asked to be sent to + that hospital because his sister was a nurse there. She was his only + remaining relative. One other sister he had once had, but she was gone—she + was dead—she died—— But that was a sad and terrible + story; he did not like to talk of it. + </p> + <p> + To this broken and bankrupt creature John Storm found his footsteps + turning on that night when his own heart lay waste. But on entering the + ward he saw that Brother Paul had a visitor already. He was an elderly man + in a strange habit—a black cassock which buttoned close at the neck + and fell nearly to his feet, and was girded about the waist by a black + rope that had three great knots at its suspended ends. And the habit was + not more different from the habit of the world than the face of the wearer + was unlike the worldly face. It was a face full of spirituality, a face + that seemed to invest everything it looked upon with a holy peace—a + beautiful face, without guile or craft or passion, yet not without the + signs of internal strife at the temples and under the eyes; but the + battles with self had all been fought and won. + </p> + <p> + As John Storm stepped up, the old man rose from his chair by the patient's + bed. + </p> + <p> + “This is the Father Superior, sir,” said Brother Paul. + </p> + <p> + “I've just been hearing of you,” said the Father in a gentle voice. “You + have been good to my poor brother.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm answered with some commonplace—it had been a pleasure, a + happiness; the brother would soon leave them; they would all miss him—perhaps + himself especially. + </p> + <p> + The Father resumed his chair and listened with an earnest smile. “I + understand you, dear friend,” he said. “It is so much more blessed to give + than to receive! Ah, if the poor blind world only knew! How it fights for + its pleasures that perish, and its pride of life that passes away! Yet to + succour a weaker brother, or protect a fallen woman, or feed a little + child will bring a greater joy than to conquer all the kingdoms of the + earth.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm sat down on the end of the bed. Something had gone out to him + in a moment, and he was held as by a spell. The Father talked of the love + of the world—how strange it was, how difficult to understand, how + tragic, how pitiful! The lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eye—how + mean, how delusive, how treacherous! To think of the people of that mighty + city day by day and night by night making themselves miserable in order + that they might make themselves merry; to think of the children of men + scouring the globe for its paltry possessions, that could not add one inch + to the stature of the soul, while all the time the empire of peace and joy + and happiness lay here at hand, here within ourselves, here in the little + narrow compass of the human heart! To give, not to get, that was the great + blessedness, and to give of yourself, of your heart's love, was the + greatest blessedness of all. + </p> + <p> + John Storm was stirred. “The Church, sir,” he said, “the Church itself has + to learn that lesson.” + </p> + <p> + And then he spoke of the hopes with which he had come up to London, and + how they were being broken down and destroyed; of his dreams of the Church + and its mission, and how they were dying or dead already. + </p> + <p> + “What liars we are, sir! How we colour things to justify ourselves! Look + at our sacraments—are they a lie, or are they a sacrilege? Look at + our charities—are we Pharisees or are we hypocrites? And our clergy, + sir—our fashionable clergy! Surely some tremendous upheaval will + shake to its foundations the Church wherein such things are possible—a + Church that is more worldly than the world! And then the woman-life of the + Church, see how it is thrown away. That sweetest and tenderest and holiest + power, how it goes to waste under the eye and with the sanction of the + Church in the frivolities of fashion—in drawing-rooms, in gardens, + in bazars, in theatres, in balls——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. His last word had arrested him. Had he been thinking only of + himself and of Glory? His head fell and he covered his face with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my son,” said the Father quietly, “and yet you are wrong, + too. The Church of God will not be shaken to its foundations because of + the Pharisees who stand in its public places, or because of the publicans + who haunt its purlieus. Though the axe be laid to the rotten tree, yet the + little seed will save its kind alive.” + </p> + <p> + Then with an earnest smile and in a gentle voice he spoke of their little + brotherhood in Bishopsgate Street; how ten years ago they had founded it + for detachment from earthly cares and earthly aims, and for hiddenness + with God; how they had established it in the midst of the world's, busiest + highway, in the heart of the world's greatest market, to show that they + despised gold and silver and all that the blind and cheated world most + prizes, just as St. Philip and St. Ignatius had established the severest + of modern rules in a profane and self-indulgent century, to show that they + could stamp out every suggestion of the flesh as a spark from the fires of + hell. + </p> + <p> + And then he lifted his cord and pointed to the knots at the end of it, and + told what they were—symbols of the three bonds by which he was bound—the + three vows he had taken: the vow of poverty, because Christ chose it for + himself and his friends; the vow of obedience, because he had said, “He + that heareth you heareth Me”; and the vow of chastity, because it was our + duty to guard the gates of the senses, and to keep our eyes and ears and + tongue from all inordinateness. + </p> + <p> + “But the lawful love of home and kindred,” said John; “what of that?” + </p> + <p> + “We convert it into what is spiritual,” said the Father. “All human love + must be based on the love of God if it is to be firm and true and + enduring, and the reason of so much failure of love in natural friendship + is that the love of the creature is not built upon the love of the + Creator.” + </p> + <p> + “But the love—say of mother and son—of brother and sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, we have placed ourselves above the ordinary conditions of life that + none may claim our affections in the same way as Christ. Man has to + contend with two sets of enemies—those from within and those from + without; and no temptations are more subtle than those which come in the + name of our holiest affections. But the sword of the spirit must keep the + tempter away. There is the Judas in all of us, and he will betray us with + a kiss if he can.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm's breast was heaving. He could scarcely conceal his agitation; + but the Father had risen to go. + </p> + <p> + “It is eight o'clock, and I must be back to Compline,” he said. And then + he laughed and added: “We never ride in cabs; but I must needs walk across + the park to-night, for I have given away all my money.” + </p> + <p> + At that the smile of an angel came into his old face, and lie said, with a + sweet simplicity: + </p> + <p> + “I love the park. Every morning the children play there, and then it is + the holy Catholic Church to me, and I like to walk in it and to lay my + hands on the heads of the little ones, and to ask a blessing for them, and + to empty my-self. This morning as I was coming here I met a little boy + carrying a bundle. 'And what is <i>your</i> name, my little man?' I said, + and he told me what it was. 'And how old are you?' I asked. 'Twelve + years,' he answered. 'And what have you got in your bundle?' 'Father's + dinner, sir,' he said. 'And what is your father, my son?' 'A carpenter,' + said the boy. And I thought if I had been living in Palestine nineteen + hundred years ago I might have met another little Boy carrying the dinner + of his father, who was also a carpenter, in a little bundle which Mary had + made up for him. So I felt in my pocket, and all I had was my fare home + again, and I gave it to the little man as a thank-offering to God that he + had suffered me to meet a sweet boy of twelve whose father was a + carpenter.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm's eyes were dim with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Brother Paul, and God send you back to us soon!—Good-bye + to you, dear friend; and when the world deals harshly with you come to us + for a few days in Retreat, that in the silence of your soul you may forget + its vanities and vexations and fix your thoughts above.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm could not resist the impulse—he dropped to his knees at + the Father's feet. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me also, Father, as you blessed the carpenter's boy.” + </p> + <p> + The Father raised two fingers of his right hand and said: + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, my son, and be with you and strengthen you, and when he + smiles on you may the frown of man affect you not!—Father in heaven, + look down on this fiery soul and succour him! Help him to cast off every + anchor that holds him to the world, and make him as a voice crying in the + wilderness, 'Come out of her, my people, saith our God.'” + </p> + <p> + When John rose from his knees the saintly face was gone, and all the air + seemed to be filled with a heavenly calm. + </p> + <p> + While he had been kneeling for the Father's blessing he had been aware of + a step on the floor behind him. It was his fellow-curate, the Reverend + Golightly, who was still waiting to deliver his message. + </p> + <p> + The canon had been disappointed in one of his preachers for Sunday, and + being himself engaged to preside over the annual dinner of a dramatic + benevolent fund to be held on the Saturday night, and therefore incapable + of extra preparation, he desired that Mr. Storm should take the sermon on + Sunday morning. + </p> + <p> + John promised to do so; and then his fellow-curate smiled, bowed, coughed, + and left him. A small room was kept for the chaplain on the ground floor + of the hospital, and he went down to it and wrote a letter. + </p> + <p> + It was to the parson at Peel. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt you hear from Glory frequently, and know all about her progress + as a probationer. She seems to be very well, and certainly I have never + seen her look so bright and so cheerful. At the moment of writing she is + out at a ball given by some of the hospital authorities. Well, it is a + perfectly harmless source of pleasure, and with all my heart I hope she is + enjoying herself. No doubt some form of amusement is necessary to a young + girl in the height of her youth and health and beauty, and he would be + only a poor sapless man who could not take delight in the thought that a + good girl was happy. Her fellow-nurses, too, are noble and devoted women, + doing true woman's work, and if there are some black sheep among them, + that is no more than might be expected of the purest profession in the + world. + </p> + <p> + “As for myself, I have tried to carry out-my undertaking to look after + Glory, but I can not say how long I may be able to continue the task. Do + not be surprised if I am compelled to give it up. You know I am + dissatisfied with my present surroundings, and I am only waiting for the + ruling and direction of the pillar of cloud and fire. God alone can tell + how it will move, but God will guide me. I don't go out more than I can + help, and when I do go I get humiliated and feel foolish. The life of + London has been a great and painful surprise. I had supposed that I knew + all about it, but I have really known nothing until now. Its cruelty, its + deceit, and its treachery are terrible. London is the Judas that is + forever betraying with a kiss the young, the hopeful, the innocent. + However, it helps one to know one's self, and that is better than lying + wrapped in cotton wool. Give my kindest greetings to everybody at Glenfaba—my + love to my father, too, if there are any means of conveying it.” + </p> + <p> + The letter took him long to write, and when it was written he went out + into the hall to post it. There he saw that a thunderstorm was coming, and + he concluded to remain until it had passed over. He stepped into the + library and selected a book, and returned to his room to read it. The book + was St. John Chrysostom on the Priesthood, and the subject was congenial, + but he could not keep his mind on the printed page: He thought of the + Father Superior, of the little brotherhood in Bishopsgate, and then of + Glory at the hospital ball, and again of Glory, and yet again and again of + Glory. Do what he would, he could not help but think of her. + </p> + <p> + The storm pealed over his head, and when he returned to the hall two hours + later it was still far from spent. He stood at the open door and watched + it. Forks of lightning lit up the park, and floods of black rain made the + vacant pavements like the surface of the sea. A tinkling cab slid past at + intervals, with its driver sheeted in oilskins, and now and then there was + an omnibus, full within and empty without. Only one other living thing was + to be seen anywhere. An Italian organ-man had stationed himself in front + of a mansion to the left and was playing vigorously. + </p> + <p> + John Storm walked through the hospital. It was now late, and the house was + quiet. The house-doctor had made the last of his rounds and turned into + his chambers across the courtyard, and the night-nurses were boiling + little kettles in their rooms between the wards. The surgical wards were + darkened, and the patients were asleep already. In the medical wards there + were screens about certain of the beds, and weary moans came from behind + them. + </p> + <p> + It was after midnight when John Storm came round to the hall again, and + then the rain had ceased, but the thunder was still rumbling. He might + have gone home at length, but he did not go; he realized that he was + waiting for Glory. Other nurses returned from the ball, and bowed to him + and passed into the house. He stepped into the porter's lodge, and sat + down and watched the lightning. It began to be terrible to him, because it + seemed to be symbolical. What doom or what disaster did this storm typify + and predict? Never could he forget the night on which it befell. It was + the night of the Nurses' Ball. + </p> + <p> + He thought he must have slept, for he shook himself and thought: “What + nonsense! Surely the soul leaves the body while we are asleep, and only + the animal remains!” + </p> + <p> + It was now almost daylight, and two hansom-cabs had stopped before the + portico, and several persons who were coming up the steps were chattering + away like wakened linnets. One voice was saying: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Drake proposes that we should all go to the theatre, and if we can + get a late pass I should like it above everything.” It was Glory, and a + fretful voice answered her: + </p> + <p> + “Very well, if <i>you</i> say so. It's all the same to <i>me</i>.” It was + Polly; and then a man's voice said: + </p> + <p> + “What night shall it be, then, Robert?” + </p> + <p> + And a second man's voice answered, with a drawl, “Better let the girls + choose for themselves, don't you know.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm felt his hands and feet grow cold, and he stepped out into the + porch. Glory saw him coming and made a faint cry of recognition. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, here is Mr. Storm! Mr. Storm, you should know Mr. Drake. He was in + the Isle of Man, you remember——” + </p> + <p> + “I do <i>not</i> remember,” said John Storm. + </p> + <p> + “But you saved his life, and you ought to know him——” + </p> + <p> + “I do <i>not</i> know him,” said John Storm. + </p> + <p> + She was beginning to say, “Let me introduce——” But she stopped + and stood silent for a moment, while the strange light came into her + gleaming eyes of something no word could express, and then she burst into + noisy laughter. + </p> + <p> + A superintendent Sister going through the hall at the moment drew up and + said, “Nurse, I am surprised at you! Go to your rooms this instant!” and + the girls whispered their adieus and went off giggling. + </p> + <p> + “What a glorious night it has been!” said Glory, going upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you think so,” said Polly. “To tell you the truth, I found it + dreadfully tiresome.” + </p> + <p> + The two men lit their cigarettes and got back into one of the hansoms and + drove away. + </p> + <p> + “What a bear that man is!” said Lord Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Rude enough, certainly,” said Drake; “but I liked his face for all that; + and if the Fates put it into his head to stand between me and death—well, + I'm not going to forget it.” + </p> + <p> + “Give him a wide berth, dear boy. The fellow is an actor—an affected + fop. I met him at Mrs. Macrae's on Thursday. He is a religious actor and a + poseur. He'll do something one of these days, take my word for it.” + </p> + <p> + And meanwhile John Storm had buttoned his long coat up to his throat and + was striding home through the echoing streets, with both hands clinched + and his teeth set hard. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. + </h2> + <p> + “Martha's. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord-a-massy! Oh, Gough bless me sowl! Oh, my beloved grandfather! + John Storm has done for himself at last! That man was never an author of + peace and a lover of concord; but, my gracious, if you had heard his + sermon in church on Sunday morning! Being a holy and humble woman of heart + myself, I altered the Litany the smallest taste possible, and muttered + away from beginning to end, 'O Lord, close thou our lips'; but the Lord + didn't heed me in the least, with the result that everybody on earth is + now screaming and snarling at our poor Mr. Storm exactly as if he had been + picking the pockets of the universe. + </p> + <p> + “It was all about the morality of men. The text was as innocent as a baby: + 'Put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh to + fulfil the lusts thereof.' And when he began in the usual way, the dear + old goodies in glasses thought he had been wound up like the musical box + and had just turned on the crank, so they cuddled in comfortably for forty + winks before the anthem. There were two natures in man, and man's body + might be good or bad according as spiritual or carnal affections swayed + it, and all the rest of the good old + change-for-sixpence-and-a-ha'penny-out, you know. But the lesson had been + from Isaiah, where the unreasonable old prophet is indignant with the + ladies of Zion because they don't want to look like dowdies, you remember: + 'Tremble, ye women that are at ease, strip you and make you bare and gird + sackcloth upon your loins.' And off he went like a comet, with the + fashionable woman for his tail. If matrimony nowadays didn't always mean + monogamy, who was chiefly to blame? Men were generally as pure as women + required that they should be; and if the lives of men were bad it was + often because women did not demand that they should be good. Tremble, ye + women, that are at ease, and say why you allow your daughters to marry men + who in fact and effect are married already. Strip you, and be ashamed for + the poor women who were the first wives of your daughters' husbands, and + for the children whom such men abandon and forget! In leading your + innocent daughters to courts and receptions you are only leading them to + the auction-room; and in dressing and decorating them you are preparing + them for the market of base men. Last week some titled philanthropist had + hauled up a woman in the East End of London for attempting to sell her + daughter. How shocking! everybody said. What a disgrace to the nineteenth + century! But the wretched creature had only been doing the best according + to her light for the welfare of her miserable child; while here—with + their eyes open, with their cultured consciences—the wives of these + same philanthropists were doing the same thing every day—the very + same! + </p> + <p> + “Having gone for the mammies like this, he went for the dear girls + themselves one better. Let them gird sackcloth on their loins and hide + their faces. Why did they suffer themselves to be sold? The woman who + married a man for the sake of his title or his position or any worldly + advantage whatever was no better than an outcast of the streets. Her act + was the same, and in all reason and justice her name should be the same + also. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, nonny, nonny! I told you how he broke down before; but on Sunday + morning, in spite of mine own amended Litany, I had just as much hope of + the breakdown of the Falls of Niagara, or a nineteen-feet spring tide. You + would have said his face was afire, and those great eyes of his were lit + up like the red lamps on Peel pier. + </p> + <p> + “Pulpit oratory! I don't know what it is, only I never heard the like of + it in all my born days. I begin to think the real difference between + preachers is the difference of the fire beneath the crust. In some it + burns so low that it doesn't even warm the surface, and you couldn't get + up enough puff to boil the kitchen kettle; but in others—look out! + It's a volcano, and the lava is coming down with a rush. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy me, how I cried! 'Oh, my daughter, oh, my child, what a ninny you + are!' I told myself; but it was no use talking. His voice was as hoarse as + a raven's, and sometimes you would have thought his very heart was + breaking. + </p> + <p> + “But the congregation! You should have seen the transformation scene! They + had come in bowing and smiling and whispering softly until the church was + a perfect sheet of sunshine, an absolute aurora borealis; but they went + out like a northeast gale, with mutterings of thunder and one man + overboard. + </p> + <p> + “And John Storm having put his foot in it, of course Glory Quayle had to + get her toe in too. Coming down the aisle some of the dear ladies of Zion, + who looked as if they wanted to 'swear in their wrath,' were mumbling all + the lamentations of Jeremiah. Who was he, indeed, to talk to people like + that? Nobody had ever heard of him except his mother. And in the porch + they came upon a fat old dump in a velvet dollman who declared it was + perfectly scandalous, and she had come out in the middle. Whereupon Glory, + not being delivered that day from all evil and mischief, said, 'Quite + right, ma'am, and you were not the only one who had to leave the church in + the middle of that sermon.' 'Why, who else had to go?' said this female + Pharisee. 'The devil, ma'am!' said Glory, and then left her with that bone + to gnaw. + </p> + <p> + “It turns out that the old girlie in the dollman is a mighty patron of + this hospital, so everybody says I am in for nasty weather. But hoot! My + heart's in the Hielan's, my heart is not here; my heart's in the Hielan's, + sae what can I fear! + </p> + <p> + “John Storm is in for it too, and they say his vicar waited for him in the + vestry, but he looked like forked lightning coming out of the pulpit, so + the good man thought it better to keep his rod in pickle awhile. It seems + that the Lords of the Council and all the nobility were there, and it is a + point of religious etiquette in London that in the hangman's house nobody + speaks of the rope; but our poor John gave them the gibbet as well. It was + a fearful thing to do, but nobody will make me believe he had not got his + reasons. He hasn't been here since, but I am certain he has his eye on + some fine folks, and, whoever they are, I'll bet 'my bottom dollar' they + deserved all they got. + </p> + <p> + “But heigho! I haven't left myself breath to tell you about the ball. I + was there! You remember I was lamenting that I hadn't got the necessary + finery. In fact, I had put in a bit at the end of my prayers about it. 'O + God, be good to me this once and let me look nice.' And he <i>was</i>. He + put it into the heads of the nabobs of this vineyard that nurses should + 'appear at the Nurses' Ball in regulation uniform only.' So my cloak and + my bonnet and my gray dress and my apron covered a multitude of sins. + </p> + <p> + “You should have seen Glory that night, grandfather. She was a redder + young lobster than ever somehow, but she put a white rose in her carroty + curls, and, Gough bless me, what a bogh [* Dear] she was, though! Of + course, she made the acquaintance of the 'higher ranks of society,' and + danced with all the earth. The great surgeon of something opened the ball + with the matron of Bartimaeus's, and she went round on his arm like a + dolly in a dolly-tub; but he soon saw what a marvellous and miraculous + being Glory was, and after I had waltzed so beautifully with the ancient + personage I had the hearts of all the young men flying round at the hem of + my white petticoat—it was a nice new one for the occasion. + </p> + <p> + “But the strangest thing was that somebody from the Isle of Man flopped + down on me there just as if he had descended from the blue. It was that + little English boy Drake, who used to come to the catechism class, only + now he is one of the smartest and handsomest young men in London. When he + came up and announced himself I am sure he expected me to expire on the + spot or else go crazy, and of course I was trembling all over, but I + behaved like a rational person and stood my ground. He looked at me as + much as to say, 'Do you know you've grown to be a very fine young woman, + and I admire you very much?' Whereupon I looked back as much as to reply, + 'That's quite right, my dear young sir, and I should have a poor opinion + of you if you didn't.' So, being of the same opinion on the only subject + worth thinking about (that's me), I behaved charmingly to him, and even + forgave him when he carried off my white rose at the end. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Drake has a friend who is always with him. He is a willowy person who + owns sixteen setters and three church livings, they say, and wears (on + week days) a thunder-and-lightning suit of clothes—<i>you</i> know, + a pattern so large that one man can't carry the whole of it and somebody + else goes about with the rest. His name is Lord Robert Ure, and I intend + to call him Lord Bob, for, since he is such a frivolous person himself, I + must make a point of being severe. I danced with him, of course, and he + kept telling me what a wonderful future Mr. Drake had, and how the + Promised Land was before him, and even hinting that it wouldn't be a bad + thing to be Mrs. Joshua. Fancy Glory making a tremendous match with a + leader of society! And if I hadn't gone to that hospital ball no doubt the + history of the nineteenth century would have been different! + </p> + <p> + “They are going to take me next week to something far, far better than a + ball, only I must not tell you anything about it yet, except that I keep + awake all night sometimes to think of it. But thou sure and firmest earth, + hear not my steps which way they walk! + </p> + <p> + “It's late, and I'm just going to cuddle in. Good-night! My kisses for the + aunties, and my love to everybody! In fact, you can serve out my love in + ladles this time—being cheap at present, and plenty more where this + is coming from. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot to tell you what happened when we returned to the hospital! + It was shockingly late, and the gentlemen had brought us back, but there + was our John Storm with his sad and anxious face waiting up to see us + safely home. He was angry with me, and I didn't mind that in the least; + but when I saw that he liked me well enough to be rude to the gentlemen I + fell a victim to the crafts and assaults of the devil, and couldn't help + laughing out loud; and then Ward Sister Allworthy came along and lifted + her lip and showed me her tusk. + </p> + <p> + “It was a wonderful night altogether, and I was never so happy in my life, + but all the same I had a good cry to myself alone before going to bed. Too + much water hadst thou, poor Ophelia! Talk about two natures in one; I've + got two hundred and fifty, and they all want to do different things! Ah + me! the 'ould Book' says that woman was taken out of the rib of a man, and + I feel sometimes as if I want to get back to my old quarters. Glory. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—I'll write you a full and particular account of the great + event of next week after it is over. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest + chuck, till thou applaud the deed. You see I don't want you to eat your + meal in fear—or your porridge either. But I am burning with + impatience for the night to come, and would like to run to it. Oh, if it + were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly! See? I + am going in for a course of Shakespeare!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. + </h2> + <p> + A week later Glory made her first visit to the theatre. Her companions + were Drake, who was charmed with her <i>naïveté</i>; Lord Robert, who was + amused by it; and Polly Love, who was annoyed and ashamed, and uttered + little peevish exclamations. + </p> + <p> + As they entered the box which they were to occupy, the attendant drew back + the curtain, and at sight of the auditorium she cried, “Oh!” and then + checked herself and coloured deeply. With her eyes down she sat where + directed in one of the three seats in front, Polly being on her right and + Drake on her left, and Lord Robert at the back of the lace curtain. For + some minutes she did not smile or stir, and when she spoke it was always + in whispers. A great awe seemed to have fallen upon her, and she was + behaving as she behaved in church. + </p> + <p> + Drake began to explain the features of the theatre. Down there were the + stalls, and behind the stalls was the pit. The body? Well, yes—the + body, so to speak. And the three galleries were the dress circle, the + family circle, and the gallery proper. The organ loft? No, there was no + organ, but that empty place below was the well for the orchestra. + </p> + <p> + “And what is this little vestry?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this is a private box where we can sit by ourselves and talk!” said + Drake. + </p> + <p> + At every other explanation she had made little whispered cries of + astonishment and delight; but when she heard that conversation was not + forbidden she was entirely happy. She thought a theatre was even more + beautiful than a church, and supposed an actor must have a wonderful + living. + </p> + <p> + The house was filling rapidly, and as the people entered she watched them + intently. + </p> + <p> + “What a beautiful congregation!” she whispered—“audience, I mean!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” said Polly; but Glory did not hear her. + </p> + <p> + It was delightful to see so many lovely faces and listen to the low hum of + their conversation. She felt happy among them already and quite kind to + everybody, because they had all come together to enjoy themselves. + Presently she bowed to some one in the stall with a face all smiles, and + then said to Polly: + </p> + <p> + “How nice of her! A lady moved, to me from the body. How friendly they are + in theatres!” + </p> + <p> + “But it was to Mr. Drake,” said Polly; and then Glory could have buried + her face in her confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Glory,” said Drake; “that's a lady who will like you the + better for the little mistake.—Rosa,” he added, with a look toward + Lord Robert, who smoothed his mustache and bent his head. + </p> + <p> + Polly glanced up quickly at the mention of the name; and Drake explained + that Rosa was a friend of his own—a lady journalist, Miss Rosa + Macquarrie, a good and clever woman. Then, turning back to Glory, he said: + </p> + <p> + “She has been standing up for your friend Mr. Storm this week. You know + there have been attacks upon him in the newspapers?” + </p> + <p> + “Has she?” said Glory, recovering herself and looking down again. “Which + pew—stall, I mean——” + </p> + <p> + But the people were clapping their hands and turning their faces to the + opposite side of the theatre. Some great personage was entering the royal + box. + </p> + <p> + “My chief, the Home Secretary,” said Drake; and, when the applause had + subsided and the party were seated, the great man recognised his secretary + and bowed to him; whereupon it seemed to Glory that every face in the + theatre turned about and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + She did not flinch, but bore herself bravely. There was a certain thrill + and a slight twitching of the head, such as a charger makes at the first + volley in battle—nothing more, not even the quiver of an eyelid. + This was the atmosphere in which Drake lived, and she felt a vague + gratitude to him for allowing her to move in it. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it beautiful!” she whispered, turning toward Polly; but Polly's + face was hidden behind the curtain. + </p> + <p> + The orchestra was coming in, and Glory leaned forward and counted the + fiddles, while Drake talked with Lord Robert across her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I found him reading Rosa's article this morning, and it seems he was + present himself and heard the sermon,” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “And what's his opinion?” asked Lord Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Much the same as your own. Affectation—the man is suffering from + the desire to be original—more egotism than love of truth, and so + forth.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, too, dear boy. All this vapouring is as much as to say: 'Look at + me! I am the Hon. and Rev. Mr. Thingamy, nephew of the Prime Minister; and + yet——'” + </p> + <p> + “I don't at all agree with the chief,” said Drake, “and I told him so. The + man has enthusiasm, and that's the very salt of the earth at present. We + are all such pessimists in these days! Thank God for anybody who will warm + us up with a little faith, say I!” + </p> + <p> + Glory's bosom heaved, and she was just about to speak, when, there was a + sudden clap as of thunder, and she leaped up in her seat. But it was only + the beginning of the overture, and she sat down laughing. There was a + tender passage in the music; and after it was over she was very quiet for + a while, and then whispered to Polly that she hoped little Johnnie wasn't + worse to-night, and it seemed wicked to enjoy one's self when any one was + so poorly. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “My little boy whose leg was amputated,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “This Glory is so funny!” said Polly. “Fancy talking of that here!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Lord Robert; “the curtain is going up.” And at the next + moment Glory was laughing because they were all in the dark. + </p> + <p> + The play was Much Ado about Nothing, and Glory whispered to Drake that she + had never seen it before, but she had read Macbeth, and knew all about + Shakespeare and the drama. The first scene took her breath away, being so + large and so splendid. It represented the outside of a gentleman's house, + and she thought what a length of time it must have taken to build it, + considering it was to last only a single night. But hush! The people were + going indoors. No; they preferred to talk in the street. Oh, we were in + Italy? Yes, indeed, that was different. + </p> + <p> + Leonato delivered his first speeches forcibly, and was rewarded with + applause. Glory clapped her hands also, and said he was a very good actor + for such a very old gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Then Beatrice made her entrance, and was greeted with cheers, whereupon + Glory looked perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “It's Terry,” whispered Polly; and Drake said, “Ellen Terry”; but Glory + still looked puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “They are calling her 'Beatrice,'” she said. Then, mastering the + situation, she looked wise and said: “Of course—the actress—I + quite understand; but why do they applaud her—she has done nothing + yet?” + </p> + <p> + Drake explained that the lady playing Beatrice was a great favourite, and + that the applause of the audience had been of the nature of a welcome to a + welcome guest, as much as to say they had liked her before, and were glad + to see her again. Glory thought that was beautiful, and, looking at the + gleaming eyes that shone out of the darkness, she said: + </p> + <p> + “How lovely to be an actress!” + </p> + <p> + Then she turned back to the stage, where all was bright and brilliant, and + said, “What a lovely frock, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Only a stage costume, my dear,” said Polly. + </p> + <p> + “And what beautiful diamonds!” + </p> + <p> + “Paste,” said Lord Robert, + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Drake; and then Benedick entered, and the audience received + him with great cheering. “Irving,” whispered Drake; and Glory looked more + perplexed than before and said: + </p> + <p> + “But you told me it was Mr. Irving's theatre, and I thought it would have + been his place to welcome——” + </p> + <p> + The vision of Benedick clapping his hands at his own entrance set Lord + Robert laughing in his cold way: but Drake said, “Be quiet, Robert!” + </p> + <p> + Glory, like a child, had ears for no conversation except her own, and she + was immersed in the play in a moment. The merry war of Beatrice and + Benedick had begun, and as she watched it her face grew grave. + </p> + <p> + “Now, that's very foolish of her,” she said; “and if, as you say, she's a + great actress, she shouldn't do such things. To talk like that to a man is + to let everybody see that she likes him better than anybody else, though + she's trying her best to hide it. The silly girl—he'll find her + out!” + </p> + <p> + But the curtain had gone down on the first act, the lights had suddenly + gone up, and her companions were laughing at her. Then she laughed also. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, it's only a play,” she said largely, “and I know all about + plays and about acting, and I can act myself, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure you can,” said Polly, lifting her lip. But Glory took no notice. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the second act she put on the same airs of knowledge, watching + the masked ball intently, but never once uttering a laugh and hardly ever + smiling. The light, the colour, the dresses, the gay young faces enchanted + her; but she struggled to console herself. It was only her body that was + up there, leaning over the front of the box with lips twitching and eyes + gleaming; her soul was down on the stage, clad in a lovely gown, and + carrying a mask and laughing and joking with Benedick; but she held + herself in, and when the curtain fell she began to talk of the acting. + </p> + <p> + She was still of the opinion that Leonato was excellent for such an + elderly gentleman, and when Polly praised Claudio she agreed that he was + good too. + </p> + <p> + “But Benedick is my boy for all,” she said. In some way she had identified + herself with Beatrice, and hardly ever spoke of her. + </p> + <p> + During the third act this air of wisdom and learning broke down badly. In + the middle of the ballad, “Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,” she + remembered Johnnie, and whispered to Drake how ill he had been when they + left the hospital. And when it was over, and Benedick protested that the + song had been vilely sung, she sat back in her seat and said she didn't + know how Mr. Irving could say such a thing, for she was sure the boy had + sung it beautifully. + </p> + <p> + “But that's the author,” whispered Drake; and then she said wisely: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know—Shakespeare, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Then came the liming of the two love-birds, and she declared that + everybody was in love in plays of that sort, and that was why she liked + them; but as for those people playing the trick, they were very simple if + they thought Beatrice didn't know she loved Benedick. Claudio fell + woefully in her esteem in other respects also, and when he agreed to spy + on Hero she said he ought to be ashamed of himself anyhow. + </p> + <p> + “How ridiculous you are!” said Polly. “It's the author, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Then the author ought to be ashamed of himself, also, for it is unjust + and cruel and unnecessary,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + The curtain had come down again by this time, and the men were deep in an + argument about morality in art, Lord Robert protesting that art had no + morality, and Drake maintaining that what Glory said was right, and there + was no getting to the back of it. + </p> + <p> + But the fourth act witnessed Glory's final vanquishment. When she found + the scene was the inside of a church and they were to be present at a + wedding, she could not keep still on her seat for delight; but when the + marriage was stopped and Claudio uttered his denunciation of Hero, she + said it was just like him, and it would serve him right if nobody believed + him. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said somebody near them. + </p> + <p> + “But they are believing him,” said Glory quite audibly. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Hush!” came from many parts of the theatre. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's shameful—her father, too——” began Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Glory!” whispered Drake; but she had risen to her feet, and when + Hero fainted and fell she uttered a cry. + </p> + <p> + “What a girl!” whispered Polly. “Sit down—everybody's looking!” + </p> + <p> + “It's only a play, you know,” whispered Drake; and Glory sat down and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes; of course, it's only a play. Did you suppose——” + </p> + <p> + But she was lost in a moment. Beatrice and Benedick were alone in the + church now; and when Beatrice said, “Kill Claudio,” Glory leaped up again + and clapped her hands. But Benedick would not kill Claudio, and it was the + last straw of all. That wasn't what she called being a great actor, and it + was shameful to “sit and listen to such plays. Lots of disgraceful scenes + happened in life, but people didn't come to the theatre to see such + things, and she would go. + </p> + <p> + “How ridiculous you are!” said Polly; but Glory was out in the corridor, + and Drake was going after her. + </p> + <p> + She came back at the beginning of the fifth act with red eyes and confused + smiles, looking very much ashamed. From that moment onward she cried a + good deal, but gave no other sign until the green curtain came down at the + end, when she said: + </p> + <p> + “It's a wonderful thing! To make people forget it's not true is the most + wonderful thing in the world!” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert, standing behind the curtain at the back of Polly's chair, had + been laughing at Glory with his long owlish drawl, and making cynical + interjections by way of punctuating her enthusiasm; and now he said, + “Would you like to have a nearer view of your wonderful world, Glory?” + </p> + <p> + Glory looked perplexed, and Drake muttered, “Hold your tongue, Robert!” + Then, turning to Glory, he said shortly: “He only asked if you would like + to go behind the scenes; but I don't think——” + </p> + <p> + Glory uttered a cry of delight. “Like it? Better than anything in the + world!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I must take you to a rehearsal somewhere,” said Lord Robert; “and + you'll both come to tea at the chambers afterward.” + </p> + <p> + Drake made some show of dissent; but Polly, with her most voluptuous look + upward, said it would be perfectly charming, and Glory was in raptures. + </p> + <p> + The girls, by their own choice, went home without escort by the + Hammersmith omnibus. They sat on opposite sides and hardly talked at all. + Polly was humming idly. “Sigh no more, ladies.” + </p> + <p> + Glory was in a trance. A great, bright, beautiful world had that night + swum into her view, and all her heart was yearning for it with vague and + blind aspirations. It might be a world of dreams, but it seemed more real + than reality, and when the omnibus passed the corner of Piccadilly Circus + she forgot to look at the women who were crowding the pavement. + </p> + <p> + The omnibus drew up for them at the door of the hospital, and they took + long breaths as they went up the steps. + </p> + <p> + In the corridor to the surgical ward they came upon John Storm. His head + was down and his step was long and measured, and he seemed to be trying to + pass them in his grave silence; but Glory stopped and spoke, while Polly + went on to her cubicle. + </p> + <p> + “You here so late?” she said. + </p> + <p> + He looked steadily into her face and answered, “I was sent for—some + one was dying.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it little Johnnie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + There was not a tear now, not a quiver of an eyelid. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I care for this life,” she said fretfully. “Death is always + about you everywhere, and a girl can never go out to enjoy herself but——” + </p> + <p> + “It is true woman's work,” said John hotly, “the truest, noblest work a + woman can have in all the world!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Glory, swinging on her heel. “All the same——” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night!” said John, and he turned on his heel also. + </p> + <p> + She looked after him and laughed. Then with a little hard lump at her + heart she took herself off to bed. + </p> + <p> + Polly Love, in the next cubicle, was humming as she undressed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, + Men were deceivers ever. +</pre> + <p> + That night Glory dreamed that she was back at Peel. She was sitting up on + the Peel hill, watching the big ships as they weighed anchor in the bay + beyond the old dead castle walls, and wishing she were going out with them + to the sea and the great cities so far away. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. + </h2> + <p> + John Storm was sitting in his room next morning fumbling the leaves of a + book and trying to read, when a lady was announced. It was Miss Macrae, + and she came in with a flushed face, a quivering lip, and the marks of + tears in her eyes. She held his hand with the same long hand-clasp as + before, and said in a tremulous voice: + </p> + <p> + “I am ashamed of coming, and mother does not know that I am here; but I am + very unhappy, and if you can not help me——” + </p> + <p> + “Please sit down,” said John Storm. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to tell you——” she said, and then her sad eyes + moved about the room and came back to his face. “It is about Lord Robert + Ure, and I am very wretched.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me everything, dear lady, and if there is anything I can do——” + </p> + <p> + She told him all. It was a miserable story. Her mother had engaged her to + Lord Robert Ure (there was no other way of putting it) for the sake of his + title, and he had engaged himself to her for the sake of her wealth. She + had never loved him, and had long known that he was a man of scandalous + reputation; but she had been taught that to attach weight to such + considerations would be girlish and sentimental, and she had fought for a + while and then yielded. + </p> + <p> + “You will reproach me for my feebleness,” she said, and he answered + haltingly: + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not reproach you—I pity you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “it is all over now, and if I am ruined, and if my + mother——” + </p> + <p> + “You have told her you can not marry him!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then who am I to reproach you?” he said; and rising to his feet, he threw + down his book. + </p> + <p> + Her dark eyes wandered about the room, and came back to his face again and + shone with a new lustre. + </p> + <p> + “I heard your sermon on Sunday, Mr. Storm, and I felt as if there were + nobody else in the church, and you were speaking to me alone. And last + night at the theatre——” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + He had been tramping the room, but he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “I saw him in a box with his friend and two—two ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “Were they nurses from the hospital?” + </p> + <p> + She made a cry of surprise and said, “Then you know all about it, and the + sermon <i>was</i> meant for me?” + </p> + <p> + He did not speak for a moment, and then he said with a thick utterance: + </p> + <p> + “You wish me to help you to break off this marriage, and I will try. But + if I fail—no matter what has happened in the past, or what awaits + you in the future——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she said, “if I had your strength beside me I should be brave—I + should be afraid of nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, dear lady,” said John Storm; and before he could prevent her + she had stooped over his hand and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + John Storm had returned to his book and was clutching it with nervous + fingers, when his fellow-curate came with a message from the canon to + request his presence in the study. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I was on the point of going down,” said John. And the Reverend + Golightly coughed and bowed himself out. + </p> + <p> + The canon had also had a visitor that morning. It was Mrs. Macrae herself. + She sat on a chair covered with a tiger skin, sniffed at her scented + handkerchief, and poured out all her sorrows. + </p> + <p> + Mercy had rebelled against her authority, and it was entirely the fault of + the new curate, Mr. Storm. She had actually refused to carry out her + engagement with Lord Robert, and it all came of that dreadful sermon on + Sunday. It was dishonourable, it was unprincipled, and it was a pretty + thing to teach girls to indulge their whims without regard to the wishes + of parents! + </p> + <p> + “Here have I been two years in London, spending a fortune on the girl and + trying to do my best for her, and the moment I fix her in one of the first + English families, this young man—this curate—this—— + Upon my honour, it's real wicked, it's shameful!” And the handkerchief + steeped in perfume went up from the nose to the eyes. + </p> + <p> + The canon swung his <i>pince-nez</i>. “Don't put yourself about, my dear + Mrs. Macrae. Leave the matter to me. Miss Macrae will give up her + objections, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you mustn't judge her by her quietness, canon. You don't know her + character. She's real stubborn when her mind's made up. But I'll be as + stubborn as she is—I'll take her back to America—I'll never + spend another penny——” + </p> + <p> + “And as for Mr. Storm,” continued the canon, “I'll make everything smooth + in that quarter. You mustn't think too much about the unhappy sermon—a + little youthful <i>esprit fort</i>—we all go through it, you know.” + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Macrae had gone, he rang twice for Mr. Golightly and said, “Tell + Mr. Storm to come down to me immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, sir,” said the little man; and then he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said the canon, adjusting his glasses. + </p> + <p> + “I have never told you, sir, how I found him the night you sent me to the + hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, how?” + </p> + <p> + “On his knees to a Catholic priest who was visiting a patient.” + </p> + <p> + The canon's glasses fell from his eyes and his broad face broke into + strange smiles. + </p> + <p> + “I thought the Sorceress of Rome was at the bottom of it,” he said. “His + uncle shall know of this, and unless I am sadly deceived—but fetch + him down.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm was wearing his flannel shirt that morning, and he came + downstairs with a heavy tread and swung himself, unasked, into the chair + that had just before been occupied by Mrs. Macrae. + </p> + <p> + The perpendicular wrinkles came between the canon's eyebrows and he said: + “My dear Mr. Storm, I have postponed as long as possible a most painful + interview. The fact is, your recent sermon has given the greatest offence + to the ladies of my congregation, and if such teaching were persisted in + we should lose our best people. Now, I don't want to be angry with you, + quite the contrary, but I wish to put it to you, as your spiritual head + and adviser, that your idea of religion is by no means agreeable to the + needs and necessities of the nineteenth century. There is no freedom in + such a faith, and St. Paul says, 'Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there + is liberty.' But the theory of your religion is not more unscriptural than + its application is unwholesome. Yours is a gloomy faith, my dear Storm, + and what did Luther say of a gloomy faith?—that the devil was very + apt to be lurking behind it. As for himself he married, you may remember; + he had children, he played chess, he loved to see young people dancing——” + </p> + <p> + “I don't object to the dancing, sir,” said John Storm. “I only object to + the tune.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” said the canon, not without insolence, and the + perpendicular wrinkles became large and heavy. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, sir,” said John Storm, “that half the young people nowadays—the + young women in the west of London especially—are asked to dance to + the Dead March.” + </p> + <p> + And then he spoke of the infamous case of Mercy Macrae, how she was being + bought and sold, and how scandalous was the reputation of the man she was + required to marry. + </p> + <p> + “That was what I was coming down to speak about, sir—to ask you to + save this innocent girl from such a mockery of holy wedlock. She is not a + child, and the law can not help her, but you can do so, because the power + of the Church is at your back. You have only to set your face against this + infamy, and say——” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mr. Storm,” the canon was smiling condescendingly and swinging + his glasses, “the business of the Church is to solemnize marriages, not to + make them. But if the young lady comes to me I will say: 'My dear young + lady, the conditions you complain of are more common than you suppose; put + aside all foolish, romantic notions, make a nest for yourself as + comfortably as you can, and come back in a year to thank me.'” + </p> + <p> + John Storm was on his feet; the blood was mounting to his face and + tingling in his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “And so these men are to make their wives of the daughters of the poor + first, and then ask the Church to solemnize their polygamy——” + </p> + <p> + But the canon had lifted his hand to silence him. + </p> + <p> + “My dear young friend, a policy like yours would decimate the House of + Commons and abolish the House of Lords. Practical religion has a sweet + reasonableness. We are all human, even if we are all gentlemen; and while + silly young things——” + </p> + <p> + But John Storm was out in the hall and putting on his hat to see Glory. + </p> + <p> + Glory had not yet awakened from her trance. While others were living in + to-day she was still going about in yesterday. The emotion of the theatre + was upon her, and the world of reality took the tone and colour of drama. + This made her a tender woman, but a bad nurse. + </p> + <p> + She began the day in the Outpatient Department, and a poor woman came with + a child that had bitten its tongue. Its condition required that it should + remain in the house a day or two. “Let me put the pore thing to bed; she's + allus used to me,” said the woman piteously. “Are you the mother?” said + the Sister. “No, the grandmother.” “The mother is the only person who can + enter the wards except on visiting day.” The poor woman began to cry. + Glory had to carry the child to bed, and she whispered to the grandmother, + “Come this way,” and the woman followed her. When they came to the + surgical ward, she said to the nurse in charge, “This is the child's + mother, and she has come to put the poor little thing to bed.” + </p> + <p> + Later in the morning she was sent up to help in the same ward. A patient + in great pain called to her and said, “Loosen this bandage for me, nurse; + it is killing me!” And she loosened it. + </p> + <p> + But the glamour of the theatre was upon her as well as its sentiment and + emotion, and in the space before the bed of one of the patients, at a + moment when the ward Sister was away, she began to make imitations of + Beatrice and Benedick and the singer of “Sigh no more, ladies.” The + patient was Koenig, the choirmaster of “All Saints',” a little fat German + with long mustaches, which he waxed and curled as he lay in bed. Glory had + christened him “the hippopotamus,” and at her mimicry he laughed so much + that he rolled and pitched and dived among the bedclothes. + </p> + <p> + “Ach, Gott!” he cried, “vot a girl! Never—I haf never heard any one + so goot on de stage. Vot a voice, too! A leetle vork under a goot teacher, + and den, mein Gott! Vot is it de musicians say?—the genius has a + Cremona inside of him on which he first composes his immortal vorks. You + haf the Cremona, my dear, and I will help you to bring it out. Vot you + tink?” + </p> + <p> + It was the hour of the morning when the patients who can afford it have + their newspapers brought up to them, but the newspapers were thrown aside; + every eye was on Glory, and there was much noisy laughter and even some + clapping of hands. + </p> + <p> + Ward Sister Allworthy entered with the house doctor. + </p> + <p> + “What's the meaning of this?” she demanded. Glory told the truth, and was + reproved. + </p> + <p> + “Who has loosened this bandage?” said the doctor. The patient tried to + prevaricate, but Glory told the truth again, and was reproved once more. + </p> + <p> + “And who permitted this woman to come into the ward?” said the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “You're not fit to be a nurse, miss, and I shall certainly report you as + unfit for duty.” + </p> + <p> + Glory laughed in the Sister's face. + </p> + <p> + It was at this moment that John Storm arrived after his interview with the + canon. He drew Glory into the corridor and tried to pacify her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't suppose I'm going to do hospital nursing all my life,” she + said. “It may be good womanly work, but I want to be a human being with a + heart, and not a machine called Duty. How I hate and despise my + surroundings! I'll make an end of them one of these days. Sooner or later + it must come to that.” + </p> + <p> + “Your life has been deranged, Glory, and that is why you disdain your + surroundings. You were at the theatre last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you that? Well, what of it? Are you one of those who think the + theatre——” + </p> + <p> + “I don't object to the theatre, Glory. It is the derangement of your life + I am thinking of; and if anybody is responsible for that he is your enemy, + not your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “You will make me angry again, as you did before,” and she began to bite + her quivering lip. + </p> + <p> + “I did not come to make you angry, Glory. I came to ask you—even to + entreat you—to break off this hateful connection.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you know nothing of this—this connection, as you say—you + call it hateful.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what I am talking about, my child. The life these men live is + worse than hateful; and it makes my heart bleed to see you falling a + victim to it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are degrading me again; you are always degrading me. Other men try to + be agreeable to me, but you—— Besides, I can not hear my + friends abused. Yes, they <i>are</i> my friends. I <i>was</i> at the + theatre with them last night, and I am going to take tea at their chambers + on my next holiday. So please——” + </p> + <p> + “Glory!” + </p> + <p> + With one plunge of his arm he had gripped her by the wrist. + </p> + <p> + “You are hurting me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are never to set foot in the rooms of those men!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go!” + </p> + <p> + “You are as inexperienced as a child, Glory, and it is my duty to protect + you against yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Let go, I say!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't destroy yourself. Think while there's time—think of your good + name, your character!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall do as I please.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen! If I have chosen to be a clergyman, it's not because I've lived + all my life in cotton wool. Let me tell you what the lives of such men + really are—the best of them, the very best. He gets up at noon, + walks in the park, takes tea with some one, grunts and groans that he must + go to somebody's dinner party, escapes to the Gaiety Theatre, sups at a + so-called club——” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Lord Robert. But what right have you to say——” + </p> + <p> + “The right of one who knows him to be as bad as this, and worse—ten + times worse! Such a man thinks he has a right to play with a girl if she + is poor. She may stake her soul, her salvation, but he risks nothing. + To-day he trifles with her; to-morrow he marries another, and flings her + to the devil!” + </p> + <p> + “There's something else in this. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + But John Storm had swung about and left her. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she was at liberty she went in search of Polly Love, expecting + to find her in her cubicle, but the cubicle was empty. Coming out of the + little room she saw a piece of paper lying on the floor. It was a letter, + carefully folded. She picked it up, unfolded it, and read it, hardly + knowing what she was doing, for her head was dizzy and her eyes were + swimming in unshed tears. It ran: + </p> + <p> + “You ask, Do I mean to adopt entirely? Yes; to bring up just the same as + if it were born to me. I hope yours will be a strong and healthy boy; but + if it is a girl——” + </p> + <p> + Glory could not understand what she was reading. Whose letter could it be? + It was addressed “X. Y. Z., Office of <i>Morning Post</i>.” + </p> + <p> + There was a hurried footstep approaching, and Polly came in, with her eyes + on the ground as if looking for something she had dropped. At the next + moment she had snatched the letter out of Glory's hand, and was saying: + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing in my room? Has your friend the chaplain told you to + spy upon me?” + </p> + <p> + The expression on her face was appalling, and Glory, who had flushed up + with shame, turned away without a word. + </p> + <p> + When John Storm got back to his room he found the following letter from + the canon on his table: + </p> + <p> + “Since our interview of this morning (so strangely abridged) I have had + the honour to visit your dear uncle, the Prime Minister, and he agrees + with me that the strain of your recent examinations and the anxieties of a + new occupation have probably disturbed your health, and that it will be + prudent of you to take a short vacation. I have therefore the greatest + pleasure in assuring you that you are free from duty for a week, a + fortnight, or a month, as your convenience may determine; and during your + much-regretted absence I will do my best to sustain the great loss of your + invaluable help.” + </p> + <p> + On reading the message, John Storm flung himself into a chair and burst + into a long peal of bitter laughter. But when the laughter was spent there + came a sense of great loneliness. Then he remembered Mrs. Callender, and + went across to her little house in Victoria Square, and showed her the + canon's letter and told her everything. + </p> + <p> + “Lies, lies, lies!” she said. “Ah, laddie, laddie! to lie, to know you + lie, to be known to lie, and yet to go on lying—that is the whole + art of life with these fashionable shepherds and their fashionable flock. + As for that woman—ugh! She was separated from her husband for two + years before his death; and he died in a hotel abroad without kith or kin + to comfort him: and now she wears his hair in a gold locket on her bosom—that's + what she is! But all's well that ends well, laddie. The <i>holly</i> will + do ye good, for you were killing yerself with work. You'll no be spending + it in your little island, now, eh?” + </p> + <p> + John Storm was sitting with one leg across the other, and his head on his + hand and his elbow on his knee. + </p> + <p> + “I shall spend it,” he said, “in Retreat at the Brotherhood in + Bishopsgate.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless me, man! is that the change of air ye'll be going to gie + yoursel'? It may be well enough for men with water in their veins; but you + have blood, laddie—blood! Tak' care, tak' care!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. + </h2> + <p> + “Still at Martha's. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, dear Aunt Anna, the terms 'authority' and 'obedience' must + be known and honoured. Only, when it is a case of put a penny in the slot + and out comes the word of command, you can't exactly feel that way. The + board of directors put the penny into the slot of this institution, and + the word of command, so far as I am concerned, comes out of the mouth of + Ward Sister Allworthy. I call her the White Owl. She is five feet ten, and + has big round cheeks which sometimes I should dearly love to slap—as + mothers slap their 'childers' when they administer a humiliating + punishment. + </p> + <p> + “So you think you notice 'a certain want of aptitude'? Well, I don't think + I am naturally a bad nurse, Aunt Anna. The patients like me, and they + don't die of the dumps when I am about. Only I can't practise nursing by + the rule of three, and as a consequence I get myself reported. Sister + Allworthy has reported me three times, bless her! Thrice the brinded cat + hath mewed, and now she threatens to have me up before the matron. That + dear soul has difficulties of locomotion, being buried under the Pelion on + Ossa of a mountain of fat. She inhabits a cave of Adullam on the edge of + the Inferno—i. e., the 'theatre'—below stairs, and has a small + dog with a bad heart and broken wind always nagging on her knee. I call + her the Chief Broker in Breakages and Head Dealer in Diseases, and she is + only seen once a day when she comes round to take stock. You have to be + nice with her Majesty,' for she can haul you up at the weekly board, and + put a score against you in the black book, and send you away without a + certificate. If that happens, a girl who expects to earn her living as a + nurse has never any particular need to pray, 'In all time of our wealth, + good Lord deliver us.' + </p> + <p> + “But, oh, my dear grandfather, what do you think of our John Storm now? + After uttering the lamentations of Jeremiah and predicting all the plagues + of Egypt, he has gone off to hold his peace—that is to say, he has + gone to make his 'Retreat,' which, being interpreted, means praying + without ceasing, and also without speaking, eighteen hours a day, six days + at a spell, and sometimes sixty. When he comes back reeking with all that + holiness I shall feel myself such a miserable sinner—— + </p> + <p> + “Soberly, I could cry to think of it, though, and when I remember that + perhaps I was partly to blame—— + </p> + <p> + “It was this way: In that 'ter'ble discoorse' I told you he had scotched + the snake, not killed it, and his vicar (I call him Mr. Worldly Wiseman), + finding that his ladies and nobility went out like the Pharisees, one by + one, told our poor John he was ill and stood in need of instant rest. It + looked like it certainly, and the trouble must have been a sort of human + rabies in which the poor victim bites at his best friends first. He came + here with his lower lip hanging like an old dog's, and I was so stupid as + not to see that he was being hunted like a dog too, and only told myself + how ugly and untidy he had grown of late. But the Sister had just before + been showing me her tusks again, and being possessed with a fury, I gave + it him world without end. He was very unreasonable though, and seemed to + say that I must have no friends and no amusements that were not of his + choosing, and that after spending my days walking through the inside of + this precious hospital I must spend my nights walking round the outside of + it. Being a woman of like passions with himself, I had a 'ter'ble dust' + with him on the subject, and the next I heard was that he was going to + make Retreat in a kind of English-church monastery somewhere in the city, + where he would 'try to disentangle' himself 'from the world' and see what + he 'ought to do next.' He sent me his blessing with this message, and I + sent him back mine—a less holy one, but he'll make it do. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would remember Mr. Drake's mother, dear Auntie Rachel. Yes, + he is fair also, and wears his hair brushed across his forehead, much as + you see in the portraits of Napoleon. In fact, he is a sort of fair-haired + Napoleon in nature as well. + </p> + <p> + “He took me to the theatre the other evening, and that was the great event + I intended to tell you about. It was quite a proper sort of place, and + nobody behaved badly except Glory, who kept talking and preaching and + going silly with excitement all the evening through, with the result that + everybody was staring mewards and wanting to turn me out. + </p> + <p> + “Since then Mr. Drake's friend, Lord Bob, who knows all the actors on + earth seemingly, has taken us 'behind,' and we have seen a rehearsal. + Things don't look quite the same behind as before, but nothing in the + world does that, and I wasn't a bit disenchanted. In fact, I found + everything delightfully romantic and amusing, and really I do not think it + <i>can</i> be so very wicked to be an actress. Do you? + </p> + <p> + “My friend Polly Love was with us. Polly is a probationer also, and sleeps + in the cubicle next to mine, and after the rehearsal we went to the + gentlemen's chambers to tea. I can hear what Aunt Anna is saying: + 'Goodness gracious! you didn't do that, girl?' Well, yes, I did though. In + the interest of my sex I wanted to see how two boys could live in rooms + all by themselves, and it's perfectly shocking how well they get on + without a woman. Of course I wasn't such a silly as to let wit about that, + but after I had examined their sitting-room and cross-examined its owners + on its numerous photographs (chiefly feminine) and tried how it feels to + hold their big pipes between one's teeth, I whipped off my hat at once and + began to put things straight for them, and then I made the tea. + </p> + <p> + “By this time the gentlemen had changed into their jackets, and I sent + them flying around for cups and saucers and sugar basins. It turned out + that they had only one teaspoon in the place, and when anybody wanted to + stir her tea she said, 'Will you oblige me with <i>spoon</i> please?' What + fun it was! We laughed until we cried—at least one of us did—and + eventually we managed to break the teapot and a slop basin and to overturn + a standing lamp. It was perfectly delightful! + </p> + <p> + “But the best sport was after tea was over, and Glory was called on for + imitations of the people we had seen at the theatre. Of course she + couldn't imitate a man when she was in a woman's frock, so being as bright + as diamonds that night and twice 'as impudent as a white stone,' [* A Manx + proverb] she actually conceived the idea of dressing up in man's clothes. + Naturally the gentlemen were enchanted, so I hope Auntie Rachel isn't + terribly shocked. Mr. Drake lent me his knickerbockers and a velvet + jacket, and Polly and I went into the bedroom, where she helped me to find + the way to put them on. With my own blouse and my own hat (I am wearing a + felt one now with a broad brim and a feather), and <i>of course</i> my own + slippers and stockings, I made a bogh of a boy, I can tell you. I thought + Polly would have died of delight in the bedroom, but when we came out she + kept covering her face and crying, 'Glory, how <i>can</i> you!' + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I sang and talked more than was good for the soul, but it was + all Mr. Drake's doing. He declared I was such a marvellous mimic that it + was simply a waste of time and the good gifts of God to go on hospital + nursing any longer. And I do believe that if anything happened, and the + need arose, he would—— + </p> + <p> + “Only fancy Glory a public person, and all the world and his wife going + down on their knees to her! But then it's fearful to think of being an + actress, isn't it? + </p> + <p> + “After all such glorious 'outs' I have to go 'in' to the hospital, and + then comes my fit again. Do you remember my little boy who said he was + going to the angels, and he would get lots of gristly pork up there? He + has gone, and I don't think I like nursing children now. Oh, how I long to + go out into the world! I want to shine in it. I want to become great and + glorious. I could do it too, I know I could. I have got it in me, I am + sure I have. Yet here I am in a little dark corner crying for the + sunshine! + </p> + <p> + “How silly this is, isn't it? It sounds like madness. My dears, allow me + to introduce you to some one— + </p> + <p> + “Glory Quayle, 'March Hare and Madwoman.'” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. + </h2> + <p> + The board room of the hospital of Martha's Vineyard was a large and + luxurious chamber, with an oval window at its farther end, and its two + side walls panelled with portraits of former chairmen and physicians. In + great oaken armchairs, behind ponderous oaken tables, covered with green + cloth and furnished with writing pads, the Board of Governors sat in three + sides of a square, leaving an open space in the middle. This open space + was reserved for patients seeking admission or receiving discharge, and + for officers of the hospital presenting their weekly reports. + </p> + <p> + On a morning in August the matron's report had closed with a startling + item. It recommended the immediate suspension of a nurse on the ground of + gross impropriety of conduct. The usual course in such a case was for the + board of the hospital to depute the matron to act for them in private, but + the chairman in this instance was a peppery person, with a stern mouth and + a solid under-jaw. + </p> + <p> + “This is a most serious matter,” he said. “I think—this being a + public institution—I really think the board should investigate the + case for itself. We ought to assure ourselves that—that, in fact, no + other irregularity is going on in the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “May it please your lordship,” said a rotund voice from, one of the side + tables, “I would suggest that a case like this of grievous moral + delinquency comes directly within the dispensation of the chaplain, and if + he has done his duty by the unhappy girl (as no doubt he has) he must have + a statement to make to the board with regard to her.” + </p> + <p> + It was Canon Wealthy. + </p> + <p> + “I may mention,” he added, “that Mr. Storm has now returned to his duties, + and is at present in the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “Send for him,” said the chairman. + </p> + <p> + When John Storm entered the board room it was remarked that he looked no + better for his holiday. His cheeks were thinner, his eyes more hollow, and + there was a strange pallor under his swarthy skin. + </p> + <p> + The business was explained to him, and he was asked if he had any + statement to make with regard to the nurse whom the matron had reported + for suspension. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I have no statement.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell the board,” said the chairman, “that you know nothing + of this matter—that the case is too trivial for your attention—or + perhaps that you have never even spoken to the girl on the subject?” + </p> + <p> + “That is so—I never have,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Then you shall do so now,” said the chairman, and he put his hand on the + bell beside him, and the messenger appeared. + </p> + <p> + “You can not intend, sir, to examine the girl here,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Before so many—and all of us men save one. Surely the matron——” + </p> + <p> + The canon rose to his feet again. “My young brother is naturally + sensitive, my lord, but I assure him his delicate feelings are wasted on a + girl like this. He forgets that the shame lies in the girl's sin, not in + her just and necessary punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring her in,” said the chairman. The matron whispered to the messenger, + and he left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, sir,” said John Storm; “if it is your expectation that I + should question the nurse on her sin, as the canon says, I can not do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Can not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will not.” + </p> + <p> + “And is that your idea of your duty as a chaplain?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the matron's duty, not the chaplain's, to——” + </p> + <p> + “The matron! The matron! This is your parish, sir—your parish. A + great public institution is in danger of a disgraceful scandal, and you + who are responsible for its spiritual welfare—really, gentlemen——” + </p> + <p> + Again the canon rose with a conciliatory smile. + </p> + <p> + “I think I understand my young friend,” he said, “and your lordship and + the hoard will appreciate his feelings, however you may disapprove of his + judgment. What generous heart can not sympathize with the sensitive spirit + of the youthful clergyman who shrinks from the spectacle of guilt and + shame in a young and perhaps beautiful woman? But if it will relieve your + lordship from an embarrassing position, I am myself willing——” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said the chairman; and then the girl was brought into the + room in charge of Sister Allworthy. + </p> + <p> + She was holding her head down and trying to cover her face with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Your name, girl?” said the canon. + </p> + <p> + “Mary Elizabeth Love,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “You are aware, Mary Elizabeth Love, that our excellent and indulgent + matron” (here he bowed to a stout lady who sat in the open space) “has + been put to the painful duty of reporting you for suspension, which is + equivalent to your immediate discharge. Now, I can not hold out a hope + that the board will not ratify her recommendation, but it may perhaps + qualify the terms of your 'character' if you can show these gentlemen that + the unhappy lapse from good conduct which brings you to this position of + shame and disgrace is due in any measure to irregularities practised + perhaps within this hospital, or to the temptations of any one connected + with it.” + </p> + <p> + The girl began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “Speak, nurse; if you have anything to say, the gentlemen are willing to + hear it.” + </p> + <p> + The girl's crying deepened into sobs. + </p> + <p> + “Useless!” said the chairman. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” said the canon. + </p> + <p> + But some one suggested that perhaps the nurse had a girl friend in the + hospital who could throw light on the difficult situation. Then Sister + Allworthy whispered to the matron, who said, “Bring her in.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm's face had assumed a fixed and absent expression, but he saw a + girl of larger size than Polly Love enter the room with a gleam, as it + were, of sunshine on her golden-red hair. It was Glory. + </p> + <p> + There was some preliminary whispering, and then the canon began again: + </p> + <p> + “You are a friend and companion of Mary Elizabeth Love?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + Her voice was full and calm, and a look of quiet courage lit up her + girlish beauty. + </p> + <p> + “You have known her other friends, no doubt, and perhaps you have shared + her confidence?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you can tell the board if the unhappy condition in which she finds + herself is due to any one connected with this hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to any officer, servant, or member of any school attached to it?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said the chairman, “that is quite enough,” and down the + tables of the governors there were nods and smiles of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “What have I done?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “You have done a great service to an ancient and honourable institution,” + said the canon, “and the best return the board can make for your candour + and intelligence is to advise you to avoid such companionship for the + future and to flee such perilous associations.” + </p> + <p> + A certain desperate recklessness expressed itself in Glory's face, and she + stepped up to Polly, who was now weeping audibly, and put her arm about + the girl's waist. + </p> + <p> + “What are the girl's relatives?” said the chairman. + </p> + <p> + The matron replied out of her book. Polly was an orphan, both her parents + being dead. She had a brother who had lately been a patient in the + hospital, but he was only a lay-helper in the Anglican Monastery at + Bishopsgate Street, and therefore useless for present purposes. + </p> + <p> + There was some further whispering about the tables. Was this the girl who + had been recommended to the hospital by the coroner who had investigated a + certain notorious and tragic case? Yes. + </p> + <p> + “I think I have heard of some poor and low relations,” said the canon, + “but their own condition is probably too needy to allow them to help her + at a time like the present.” + </p> + <p> + Down to this moment Polly had done nothing but cry, but now she flamed up + in a passion of pride and resentment. + </p> + <p> + “It's false!” she cried. “I have no poor and low relations, and I want + nobody's help. My friend is a gentleman—as much a gentleman as + anybody here—and I can tell you his name, if you like. He lives in + St. James's Street, and he is Lord——” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, girl!” said the canon, in a loud voice. “We can not allow you to + compromise the honour of a gentleman by mentioning his name in his + absence.” + </p> + <p> + John stepped to one of the tables of the governors and took up a pamphlet + which lay there. It was the last annual report of Martha's Vineyard, with + a list of its governors and subscribers. + </p> + <p> + “The girl is suspended,” said the chairman, and reaching for the matron's + book, he signed it and returned it. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said the canon, “appears to be a case for Mrs. Callender's + Maternity Home at Soho, and with the consent of the board I will request + the chaplain to communicate with that lady immediately.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm had heard, but he made no answer; he was turning over the + leaves of the pamphlet. + </p> + <p> + The canon hemmed and cleared his throat. “Mary Elizabeth Love,” he said, + “you have brought a stain upon this honourable and hitherto irreproachable + institution, but I trust and believe that ere long, and before your + misbegotten child is born, you may see cause to be grateful for our + forbearance and our charity. Speaking for myself, I confess it is an + occasion of grief to me, and might well, I think, be a cause of sorrow to + him who has had your spiritual welfare in his keeping” (here he gave a + look toward John), “that you do not seem to realize the position of infamy + in which you stand. We have always been taught to think of a woman as + sweet and true and pure; a being hallowed to our sympathy by the most + sacred associations, and endeared to our love by the tenderest ties, and + it is only right” (the canon's voice was breaking), “it is only right, I + say, that you should be told at once, and in this place—though + tardily and too late—that for the woman who wrongs that ideal, as + you have wronged it, there is but one name known among persons of good + credit and good report—a hard name, a terrible name, a name of + contempt and loathing—the name of <i>prostitute!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Crushing the pamphlet in his hand, John Storm had taken a step toward the + canon, but he was too late. Some one was there before him. It was Glory. + With her head erect and her eyes flashing, she stood between the weeping + girl and the black-coated judge, and everybody could see the swelling and + heaving of her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you!” she cried. “You say you have been taught to think of a + woman as sweet and pure. Well, <i>I</i> have been taught to think of a <i>man</i> + as strong and brave, and tender and merciful to every living creature, but + most of all to a woman, if she is erring and fallen. But you are not brave + and tender; you are cruel and cowardly, and I despise you and hate you!” + </p> + <p> + The men at the tables were rising from their seats. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you have discharged my friend,” she said, “and you may discharge me, + too, if you like—if you <i>dare</i>! But I will tell everybody that + it was because I would not let you insult a poor girl with a cruel and + shameful name, and trample upon her when she was down. And everybody will + believe me, because it is the truth; and anything else you may say will be + a lie, and all the world will know it!” + </p> + <p> + The matron was shambling up also. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you, miss! Go back to your ward this instant! Do you know whom + you are speaking to?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's not the first time I've spoken to a clergyman, ma'am. I'm the + daughter of a clergyman, and the granddaughter of a clergyman, and I know + what a clergyman is when he is brave and good, and gentle and merciful to + all women, and when he is a man and a gentleman—not a Pharisee and a + crocodile!” + </p> + <p> + “Please take that girl away,” said the chairman. + </p> + <p> + But John Storm was by her side in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” he said, “nobody shall do that.” + </p> + <p> + But now Glory had broken down too, and the girls, like two lost children, + were crying on each other's breasts. John opened the door and led them up + to it. + </p> + <p> + “Take your friend to her room, nurse: I shall be with you presently.” + </p> + <p> + Then he turned back to the chairman, still holding the crumpled pamphlet + in his hand, and said calmly and respectfully: + </p> + <p> + “And now that you have finished with the woman, sir, may I ask what you + intend to do with the man?” + </p> + <p> + “What man?” + </p> + <p> + “Though I did not feel myself qualified to sit in judgment on the broken + heart of a fallen girl, I happen to know the name which she was forbidden + to mention, and I find it here, sir—here in your list of subscribers + and governors.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “You have wiped the girl out of your books, sir. Now I ask you to wipe the + man out also.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the chairman, rising, “the business of the board is at + an end.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + John Storm wrote a letter to Mrs. Callender explaining Polly Love's + situation and asking her to call on the girl immediately, and then he went + out in search of Lord Robert Ure at the address he had discovered in the + report. + </p> + <p> + He found the man alone on his arrival, but Drake came in soon afterward. + Lord Robert received him with a chilly bow; Drake offered his hand coldly; + neither of them requested him to sit. + </p> + <p> + “You are surprised at my visit, gentlemen,” said John, “but I have just + now been present at a painful scene, and I thought it necessary that you + should know something about it.” + </p> + <p> + Then he described what had occurred in the board room, and in doing so + dwelt chiefly on the abjectness of the girl's humiliation. Lord Robert + stood by the window rapping a tune on the window pane, and Drake sat in a + low chair with his legs stretched out and his hands in his trousers + pockets. + </p> + <p> + “But I am at a loss to understand why you have thought it necessary to + come here to tell that story,” said Lord Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Robert,” said John, “you understand me perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Mr. Storm, I do not understand you in the least.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will not ask you if you are responsible for the girl's position.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't.” + </p> + <p> + “But I will ask you a simpler and easier question.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “When are you going to marry her?” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert burst into ironical laughter and faced round to Drake. + </p> + <p> + “Well, these men—these curates—their assurance, don't you + know... May I ask your reverence what is <i>your</i> position in this + matter—your standing, don't you know?” + </p> + <p> + “That of chaplain of the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “But you say she has been, turned out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Lord Robert, merely that of a man who intends to protect an + injured woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know,” said Lord Robert dryly, “I understand these heroics. I've + heard of your sermons, Mr. Storm—your interviews with ladies, and so + forth.” + </p> + <p> + “And I have heard of your doings with girls,” said John. “What are you + going to do for this one?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly what I please.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care! You know what the girl is. It's precisely such girls—— + At this moment she is tottering on the brink of hell, Lord Robert. If + anything further should happen—if you should disappoint her—she + is looking to you and building up hopes—if she should fall still + lower and destroy herself body and soul——” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mr. Storm, please understand that I shall do everything or + nothing for the girl exactly as I think well, don't you know, without the + counsel or coercion of any clergyman.” + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence, and then John Storm said quietly: “It is no + worse than I expected. But I had to hear it from your own lips, and I have + heard it. Good-day.” + </p> + <p> + He went back to the hospital and asked for Glory. She was banished with + Polly to the housekeeper's room. Polly was catching flies on the window + (which overlooked the park) and humming, “Sigh no more, ladies.” Glory's + eyes were red with weeping. John drew Glory aside. + </p> + <p> + “I have written to Mrs. Callender, and she will be here presently,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “It is useless,” said Glory. “Polly will refuse to go. She expects Lord + Robert to come for her, and she wants me to call on Mr. Drake.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have seen the man myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Robert?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He will do nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, or worse than nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of that kind is impossible to men like those.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not so bad as that though, and even if Lord Robert is all you + say, Mr. Drake——” + </p> + <p> + “They are friends and housemates, Glory, and what the one is the other + must be also.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. Mr. Drake is quite a different person.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be misled, my child. If there were any real difference between them——” + </p> + <p> + “But there is; and if a girl were in trouble or wanted help in anything——” + </p> + <p> + “He would drop her, Glory, like an old lottery ticket that has drawn a + blank and is done for.” + </p> + <p> + She was biting her lip, and it was bleeding slightly. + </p> + <p> + “You dislike Mr. Drake,” she said, “and that is why you can not be just to + him. But he is always praising and excusing you, and when any one——” + </p> + <p> + “His praises and excuses are nothing to me. I am not thinking of myself. I + am thinking——” + </p> + <p> + He had a look of intense excitement, and his speaking was abrupt and + disconnected. + </p> + <p> + “You were splendid this morning, Glory, and when I think of the girl who + defied that Pharisee, being perhaps herself the victim—The man asked + me what my standing was, as if that—But if I had really had a right, + if the girl had been anything to me, if she had been somebody else and not + a light, shallow, worthless creature, do you know what I should have said + to him? 'Since things have gone so far, sir, you must marry the girl now, + and keep to her and be faithful to her, and love her, or else I——” + </p> + <p> + “You are flushed and excited, and there is something I do not understand——” + </p> + <p> + “Promise me, Glory, that you will break off this bad connection.” + </p> + <p> + “You are unreasonable. I can not promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Promise that you will never see these men again.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must see Mr. Drake at once and arrange about Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't mention the man's name again; it makes my blood boil to hear you + speak it!” + </p> + <p> + “But this is tyranny; and you are worse than the canon; and I can not bear + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; as you will. It's of no use struggling—What is the + time?” + </p> + <p> + “Six o'clock nearly.” + </p> + <p> + “I must see the canon before he goes to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + His manner had changed suddenly. He looked crushed and benumbed. + </p> + <p> + “I am going now.” he said, turning aside. + </p> + <p> + “So soon? When shall I see you again?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows!—I mean—I don't know,” he answered in a helpless + way. + </p> + <p> + He was looking around, as if taking a mental farewell of everything. + </p> + <p> + “But we can not part like this,” she said. “I think you like me a little + still, and——” + </p> + <p> + Her supplicating voice made him look up into her face for a moment. Then + he turned away, saying, “Good-bye, Glory.” And with a look of utter + exhaustion he went out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Glory walked to a window at the end of the corridor that she might see him + when he crossed the street. There was just a glimpse of his back as he + turned the corner with a slow step and his head on his breast. She went + back crying. + </p> + <p> + “I could fancy a fresh herring for supper, dear,” said Polly. “What do you + say, housekeeper?” + </p> + <p> + John Storm went back to the canon's house a crushed and humiliated man. “I + can do no more,” he thought. “I will give it up.” His old influence with + Glory must have been lost. Something had come between them—something + or some one. “Anyhow it is all over and I must go away somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + To go on seeing Glory would be useless. It would also be dangerous. As + often as he was face to face with her he wanted to lay hold of her and + say, “You must do this and this, because it is my wish and direction and + command, and it is <i>I</i> that say so!” In the midst of God's work how + subtle were the temptations of the devil! + </p> + <p> + But with every step that he went plodding home there came other feelings. + He could see the girl quite plainly, her fresh young face, so strong and + so tender, so full of humour and heart's love, and all the sweet beauty of + her form and figure. Then the old pain in his breast came back again and + he began to be afraid. + </p> + <p> + “I will take refuge in the Church,” he thought. In prayer and penance and + fasting he would find help and consolation. The Church was peace—peace + from the noise of life, and strength to fight and to vanquish. But the + Church must be the Church of God—not of the world, the flesh, and + the devil. + </p> + <p> + “Ask the canon if he can see me immediately,” said John Storm to the + footman, and he stood in the hall for the answer. + </p> + <p> + The canon had taken tea that day in the study with his daughter Felicity. + He was reclining on the sofa, propped up with velvet cushions, and holding + the teacup and saucer like the wings of a butterfly in both hands. + </p> + <p> + “We have been deceived, my dear” (sip, sip), “and we must pay the penalty + of the deception. Yet we have nothing to blame ourselves for—nothing + whatever. Here was a young man, from Heaven knows where, bent on entering + the diocese. True, he was merely the son of a poor lord who had lived the + life of a hermit, but he was also the nephew, and presumably the heir, of + the Prime Minister of England” (sip, sip, sip). “Well, I gave him his + title. I received him into my house. I made him free of my family—and + what is the result? He has disregarded my instructions, antagonized my + supporters, and borne himself toward me with an attitude of defiance, if + not disdain.” + </p> + <p> + Felicity poured out a second cup of tea for her father, sympathized with + him, and set forth her own grievances. The young man had no conversation, + and his reticence was quite embarrassing. Sometimes when she had friends, + and asked him to come down, his silence—well, really—— + </p> + <p> + “We might have borne with these little deficiencies, my dear, if the Prime + Minister had been deeply interested. But he is not. I doubt if he has ever + seen his nephew since that first occasion. And when I called at Downing + Street, about the time of the sermon, he seemed entirely undisturbed. 'The + young man is in the wrong place, my dear canon; send him back to me.' That + was all.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don't you do it?” said Felicity. + </p> + <p> + “It is coming to that, my child; but blood is thicker than water, you + know, and after all——” + </p> + <p> + It was at this moment the footman entered the room to ask if the canon + could see Mr. Storm. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the man himself!” said the canon, rising. “Jenkyns, remove the tray.” + Dropping his voice: “Felicity, I will ask you to leave us together. After + what occurred this morning at the hospital anything like a scene——” + Then aloud: “Bring him in, Jenkyns.—Say something, my dear. Why + don't you speak?—Come in, my dear Storm.—You'll see to that + matter for me, Felicity. Thanks, thanks! Sorry to send you off, but I'm + sure Mr. Storm will excuse you. Good-bye for the present.” + </p> + <p> + Felicity went out as John Storm came in. He looked excited, and there was + an expression of pain in his face. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to disturb you, but I need not detain you long,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Mr. Storm, sit down,” said the canon, returning to the sofa. + </p> + <p> + But John did not sit. He stood by the chair vacated by Felicity, and kept + beating his hat on the back of it. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to tell you, sir, that I wish to resign my curacy.” + </p> + <p> + The canon glanced up with a stealthy expression, and thought: “How clever + of him! To resign before he is told plainly that he has to go—that + is very clever.” + </p> + <p> + Then he said aloud: “I am sorry, very sorry. I'm always sorry to part with + my clergy. Still—you see I am entirely frank with you—I have + observed that you have not been comfortable of late, and I think you are + acting for the best. When do you wish to leave me?” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as convenient—as early as I can be spared.” + </p> + <p> + The canon smiled condescendingly. “That need not trouble you at all. With + a staff like mine, you see—— Of course, you are aware that I + am entitled to three months' notice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But I will waive it; I will not detain you. Have you seen your uncle on + the subject?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “When you do so please say that I always try to remove impediments from a + young man's path if he is uncomfortable—in the wrong place, for + example.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said John Storm, and then he hesitated a moment before + stepping to the door. + </p> + <p> + The canon rose and bowed affably. “Not an angry word,” he thought. “Who + shall say that blood does not count for something?” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, my dear Storm,” he said aloud, “I shall always remember with + pride and pleasure our early connection. Perhaps I think you are acting + unwisely, even foolishly, but it will continue to be a source of + satisfaction to me that I was able to give you your first opportunity, and + if your next curacy should chance to be in London, I trust you will allow + us to maintain the acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm's face was twitching and his pulses were beating violently, but + he was trying to control himself. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said; “but it is not very likely——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say you are giving up Orders, dear Mr. Storm, or perhaps that you + are only leaving our church in order to unite yourself to another. Ah! + have I touched on a tender point? You must not be surprised that rumours + have been rife. We can not silence the tongues of busybodies and + mischief-makers, you know. And I confess, speaking as your spiritual head + and adviser, it would be a source of grief to me if a young clergyman, who + has eaten the bread of the Establishment, and my own as well, were about + to avow himself the subject and slave of an Italian bishop.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm came back from the door. + </p> + <p> + “What you are saying, sir, requires that I should be plain spoken. In + giving up my curacy I am not leaving the Church of England; I am only + leaving you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad, so relieved!” + </p> + <p> + “I am leaving you because I can not live with you any longer, because the + atmosphere you breathe is impossible to me, because your religion is not + my religion, or your God my God!” + </p> + <p> + “You surprise me. What have I done?” + </p> + <p> + “A month ago I asked you to set your face as a clergyman against the + shameful and immoral marriage of a man of scandalous reputation, but you + refused; you excused the man and sided with him. This morning you thought + it necessary to investigate in public the case of one of that man's + victims, and you sided with the man again—you denied to the girl the + right even to mention the scoundrel's name!” + </p> + <p> + “How differently we see things! Do you know I thought my examination of + the poor young thing was merciful to the point of gentleness! And that, I + may tell you—notwithstanding the female volcano who came down on me—was + the view of the board and of his lordship the chairman.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am sorry to differ from them. I thought it unnecessary and unmanly + and brutal, and even blasphemous!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Storm! Do you know what you are saying?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, and I came to say it.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes were wild, his voice was hoarse; he was like a man breaking the + bonds of a tyrannical slavery. + </p> + <p> + “You called that poor child a prostitute because she had wasted the good + gifts which God had given her. But God has given good gifts to you also—gifts + of intellect and eloquence with which you might have raised the fallen and + supported the weak, and defended the downtrodden and comforted the + broken-hearted—and what have you done with them? You have bartered + them for benefices, and peddled them for popularity; you have given them + in exchange for money, for houses, for furniture, for things like this—and + this—and this! You have sold your birthright for a mess of pottage, + therefore <i>you</i> are the prostitute!” + </p> + <p> + “You're not yourself, sir; leave me,” and, crossing the room, the canon + touched the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ten thousand times more the prostitute than that poor fallen girl + with her taint of blood and will! There would be no such women as she is + to fall victims to evil companionship if there were no such men as you are + to excuse their betrayers and to side with them. Who is most the + prostitute—the woman who sells her body, or the man who sells his + soul?” + </p> + <p> + “You're mad, sir! But I want no scene——” + </p> + <p> + “You are the worst prostitute on the streets of London, and yet you are in + the Church, in the pulpit, and you call yourself a follower of the One who + forgave the woman and shamed the hypocrites, and had not where to lay his + head!” + </p> + <p> + But the canon had faced about and fled out of the room. + </p> + <p> + The footman came in answer to the bell, and, finding no one but John + Storm, he told him that a lady was waiting for him in a carriage at the + door. + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs. Callender. She had come to say that she had called at the + hospital for Polly Love, and the girl had refused to go to the home at + Soho. + </p> + <p> + “But whatever's amiss with ye, man?” she said. “You might have seen a + ghost!” + </p> + <p> + He had come out bareheaded, carrying his hat in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It's all over,” he said. “I've waited weeks and weeks for it, but it's + over at last. It was of no use mincing matters, so I spoke out.” + </p> + <p> + His red eyes were ablaze, but a great load seemed to be lifted off his + mind, and his soul seemed to exult. + </p> + <p> + “I have told him I must leave him, and I am to go, immediately. The + disease was dire, and the remedy had to be dire also.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady was holding her breath and watching his flushed face with + strained attention. + </p> + <p> + “And what may ye be going to do now?” + </p> + <p> + “To become a religious in something more than the name; to leave the world + altogether with its idleness and pomp and hypocrisy and unreality.” + </p> + <p> + “Get yoursel' some flesh on your bones first, man. It's easy to see ye've + no been sleeping or eating these days and days together.” + </p> + <p> + “That's nothing—nothing at all. God can not take half your soul. You + must give yourself entirely.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, laddie, laddie, I feared me this was what ye were coming til. But a + man can not bury himself before he is dead. He may bury the half of + himself, but is it the better half? What of his thoughts—his + wandering thoughts? Choose for yoursel', though, and if you must go—if + you must hide yoursel' forever, and this is the last I'm to see of ye—ye + may kiss me, laddie—I'm old enough, surely.—Go on, James, man, + what for are ye sitting up there staring?” + </p> + <p> + When John Storm returned to his room he found a letter from Parson Quayle. + It was a good-natured, cackling epistle, full of sweet nothings about + Glory and the hospital, about Peel and the discovery of ancient ruins in + the graveyards of the treen chapels, but it closed with this postscript: + </p> + <p> + “You will remember old Chalse, a sort of itinerant beggar and the + privileged pet of everybody. The silly old gawk has got hold of your + father and has actually made the old man believe that you are bewitched! + Some one has put the evil eye on you—some woman it would seem—and + that is the reason why you have broken away and behaved so strangely! It + is most extraordinary. That such a foolish superstition should have taken + hold of a man like your father is really quite astonishing, but if it will + only soften his rancour against you and help to restore peace we may + perhaps forgive the distrust of Providence and the outrage on common + sense. All's well that ends well, you know, and we shall all be happy.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. + </h2> + <p> + “Martha's. + </p> + <p> + “Lost, stolen, or strayed—a man, a clergyman, answers to the name of + John Storm. Or rather he does not answer, having allowed himself to be + written to twice without making so much as a yap or a yowl by way of + reply. Last seen six days ago, when he was suffering from the sulks, after + being in a de'il of a temper, with a helpless and innocent maiden who + 'doesn't know nothin',' that can have given him offence. Any one giving + information of his welfare and whereabouts to the said H. and I. M. will + be generously and appropriately rewarded. + </p> + <p> + “But, soberly, my dear John Storm, what has become of you? Where are you, + and whatever have you been doing since the day of the dreadful + inquisition? Frightful rumours are flying through the air like knives, and + they cut and wound a poor girl woefully. Therefore be good enough to reply + by return of post—and in person. + </p> + <p> + “Meantime please accept it as a proof of my eternal regard that after two + knock-down blows received in silence I am once more coming up smiling. + Know, then, that Mr. Drake has justified all expectations, having + compelled Lord Robert to provide for Polly, who is now safely ensconced in + her own country castle somewhere in St. John's Wood, furnished to hand + with servants and vassals complete. Thus you will be charmed to observe in + me the growth of the prophetic instinct, for you will remember my positive + prediction that if a girl were in trouble, and the necessity arose, Mr. + Drake would be the first to help her. Of course, he had a great deal to + say that was as sweet as syrup on the loyalty of my own friendship also, + and he expended much beautiful rhetoric on yourself as well. It seems that + you are one of those who follow the impulse of the heart entirely, while + the rest of us divide our allegiance with the head; and if you display + sometimes the severity of a tyrant of our sex, that is only to be set down + as another proof of your regard and of the elevation of the pedestal + whereon you desire us to be placed. Thus he reconciles me to the harmony + of the universe, and makes all things easy and agreeable. + </p> + <p> + “This being the case, I have now to inform you that Polly's baby has come, + having hastened his arrival (it is a man, bless it!) owing either to the + tears or the terrors of the crocodile. And being on night duty now, and + therefore at liberty from 6.30 to 8.30, I intend to pay him my first call + of ceremony this evening, when anybody else would be welcome to accompany + me who might be willing to come to his shrine of innocence and love in the + spirit of the wise men of the East. But, lest anybody <i>should</i> + inquire for me at the hospital at the first of the hours aforesaid, this + is to give warning that the White Owl has expressly forbidden all + intercourse between the members of her staff and the discharged and + dishonoured mother. Set it down to my spirit of contradiction that I + intend to disregard the mandate, though I am only too well aware that the + poor discharged and dishonoured one has no other idea of friendship than + that of a loyalty in which she shares but is not sharing. Of course, woman + is born to such selfishness as the sparks fly upward; but if I should ever + meet with a man who isn't I will just give myself up to him—body and + soul and belongings—unless he has a wife or other encumbrance + already and is booked for this world, and in that event I will enter into + my own recognisances and be bound over to him for the next. Glory.” + </p> + <p> + At six-thirty that evening Glory stood waiting in the portico of the + hospital, but John Storm did not come. At seven she was ringing at the + bell of a little house in St. John's Wood that stood behind a high wall + and had an iron grating in the garden door. The bell was answered by a + good-natured, slack-looking servant, who was friendly, and even familiar + in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the young lady from the hospital? The missis told me about you. + I'm Liza, and come upstairs—Yes, doing nicely, thank you, both of + 'em is—and mind your head, miss.” + </p> + <p> + Polly was in a little bandbox of a bedroom, looking more pink and white + than ever against the linen of her frilled pillow slips. By the bedside a + woman of uncertain age in deep mourning, with little twinkling eyes and + fat cheeks, was rocking the baby on her knee and babbling over it in words + of maudlin endearment. + </p> + <p> + “Bless it, 'ow it do notice! Boo-loo-loo!” + </p> + <p> + Glory leaned over the little one and pronounced it the prettiest baby she + had ever seen. + </p> + <p> + “Syme 'ere miss. There ain't sech another in all London! It's jest the + sort of baby you can love. Pore little thing, it's quite took to me + already, as if it wanted to enkirridge you, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “This is Mrs. Jupe,” said Polly, “and she's going to take baby to nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “Boo-loo-loo-boo! And a nice new cradle's awaiting of it afront of the + fire in my little back parlour. Boo-loo!” + </p> + <p> + “But surely you're never going to part with your baby!” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you suppose, dear? Do you think I'm going to be tied to a + child all my days, and never be able to go anywhere or do anything or + amuse myself at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Jest that. It'll be to our mootual benefit, as I said when I answered + your advertisement.” + </p> + <p> + Glory asked the woman if she was married and had any children of her own. + </p> + <p> + “Me, miss? I've been married eleven years, and I've allwiz prayed the dear + Lord to gimme childring. Got any? On'y one little girl; but I want to + adopt another from the birth, so as to have something to love when my + own's growed up.” + </p> + <p> + Glory supposed that Polly could see her baby at any time, but the woman + answered doubtfully: + </p> + <p> + “Can she see baby? Well, I would rather not, certingly. If I tyke it I + want to feel it is syme as my very own and do my dooty by it, pore thing! + And if the mother were coming and going I should allwiz feel as she 'ad + the first claim.” + </p> + <p> + Polly showed no interest in the conversation until Mrs. Jupe asked for the + name of her “friend,” in lieu of eighty pounds that were to be paid down + on delivery of the child. + </p> + <p> + “Come, myke up your mind, my dear, and let me tyke it away at onct. Give + me 'is nyme, that's good enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + After some hesitation Glory gave Lord Robert's name and address, and the + woman prepared the child for its departure. + </p> + <p> + “Don't tyke on so, my dear. 'Tain't sech a great crime, and many a laidy + of serciety 'as done worse.” + </p> + <p> + At the street door Glory asked Mrs. Jupe for her own address, and the + woman gave her a card, saying if she ever wanted to leave the hospital it + would be easy to help such a fine-looking young woman as she was to make a + bit of living for herself. + </p> + <p> + Polly recovered speedily from the trouble of the child's departure, and + presently assumed an easy and almost patronizing tone toward Glory, + pretending to be amused and even a little indignant when asked how soon + she expected to be fit for business again, and able to do without Lord + Robert's assistance. + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the truth,” she said, “I was as much to blame as he was. I + wanted to escape from the drudgery of the hospital, and I knew he would + take me when the time came.” + </p> + <p> + Glory left early, vowing in her heart she would come no more. When she + changed her omnibus at Piccadilly the Circus was very full of women. + </p> + <p> + “Letter for you, nurse,” said the porter as she entered the hospital. It + was from John Storm. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Glory: I have at length decided to enter the Brotherhood at + Bishopsgate Street, and I am to go into the monastery this evening. It is + not as a visitor that I am going this time, but as a postulant or novice + and in the hope of becoming worthy in due course to take the vows of + lifelong consecration. Therefore I am writing to you probably for the last + time, and parting from you perhaps forever. + </p> + <p> + “Since we came up to London together I have suffered many shocks and + disappointments, and I seem to have been torn in ribbons. My cherished + dreams have proved to be delusions; the palaces I had built up for myself + have turned out to be pasteboard, gilt, and rubbish; I have been robbed of + all my jewels, or they have shown themselves to be shingle stones. In this + condition of shame and disillusionment I am now resolved to escape at the + same time from the world and from myself, for I am tired of both alike, + and already I feel as if a great weight had been lifted off me. + </p> + <p> + “But I wish to speak of you. You must have thought me cantankerous, and so + I have been sometimes, but always by conviction and on principle. I could + not countenance the fashionable morality that is corrupting the manhood of + the laity, or endure the toleration that is making the clergy thoroughly + wicked; I could not without a pang see you cater to the world's appetites + or be drawn into its gaieties and frivolities; and it was agony to me to + fear that a girl of your pure if passionate nature might perhaps fall a + victim to a gamester in life's follies—an actor indulging a pastime—a + mere cheat. + </p> + <p> + “And what you tell me of your friend's altered circumstances does not + relieve me of such anxieties. The man who has deceived a girl once is + likely to deceive her again. Short of marriage itself, such connections + should be cut off entirely, whatever the price. When they are maintained + in relations of liberty the victim is sure to be further victimized, and + her last state is always worse than the first. + </p> + <p> + “However, I do not wish to blame anybody, least of all you, who have done + everything for the best, and especially now when I am parting from you + forever. You have never realized how much you have been to me, and I doubt + if I knew it myself until to-day. You know how I was brought up—with + a solitary old man—God be with him!—who tried to be good to me + for the sake of his ambitions, and to love me for the sake of his revenge. + I never knew my mother, I never had a sister, and I can never have a wife. + You were all three to me and yourself besides. There were no women in our + household, and you stood for woman in my life. I have never told you this + before, but now I tell it as a dying man whispers his secret with his + parting breath. + </p> + <p> + “I have written my letters of farewell—one to my father, asking his + forgiveness if I have done him any wrong; one to my uncle, with my love + and thanks; and one to your good old grandfather, giving up my solemn and + sacred trust of you. My conduct will of course be condemned as weak and + foolish from many points of view, but by my departure some difficulties + will be removed, and for the rest I have come to see that everything is + done by the spirit and nothing by the flesh, and that by prayer and + fasting I can help and protect you more than by counsel and advice. Thus + everything is for the best. + </p> + <p> + “The rule under which the Brothers live in community forbids them to write + and receive letters without special permission, or even to think too + constantly of the world outside; and now that I am on the eve of that new + life, memories of the old one keep crowding on me as on a drowning man. + But they are all of one period—the days when we were at Peel in your + sweet little island, before the vain and cruel world came in between us, + when you were a simple, merry girl, and I was little more than a happy + boy, and we went plunging and laughing through your bright blue sea + together. + </p> + <p> + “But earth's joys grow very dim and its glories are fading. That also is + for the best. I have my Koh-i-noor—my desire to depart and surrender + my life to God. John Storm.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything wrong, nurse? Feeling ill, ain't ye? Only dizzy a bit? + Unpleasant news from home, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “No, something else. Let me sit in your room, porter.” + </p> + <p> + She read the letter again and again, until the words seemed blurred and + the lines irregular as a spider's web. Then she thought: “We can not part + forever like this. I must see him again whatever happens. Perhaps he has + not yet gone.” + </p> + <p> + It was now half-past eight and time to go on duty, but she went upstairs + to Sister Allworthy and asked for an hour's further leave. The request was + promptly refused. She went downstairs to the matron and asked for half an + hour, only that she might see a friend away on a long journey, and that + was refused too. Then she tightened her quivering lips, returned to the + porter's room, fixed her bonnet on before the scratched pier-glass, and + boldly walked out of the hospital. + </p> + <p> + It was now quite dark and the fashionable dinner hour of Belgravia, and as + she hurried through the streets many crested and coroneted carriages drew + up at the great mansions and discharged their occupants in evening dress. + The canon's house was brilliantly lighted, and when the door was opened in + answer to her knock she could see the canon himself at the head of his own + detachment of diners coming downstairs with a lady in white silk chatting + affably on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Storm at home?” + </p> + <p> + The footman, in powdered wig and white cotton gloves, answered haltingly. + “If it is—er—anything about the hospital, miss, Mr.—er—Golightly + will attend.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is Mr. Storm himself I wish to see.” + </p> + <p> + “Gorn!” said the footman, and he shut the door in her face. + </p> + <p> + She had an impulse to hammer on the door with her hand, and command the + flunky to go down on his knees and beg her pardon. But what was the good? + She had no time to think of herself now. + </p> + <p> + As a last resource she would go to Bishopsgate. How dense the traffic + seemed to be at Victoria! She had never felt so helpless before. + </p> + <p> + It was better in the city, and as she walked eastward, in the direction + indicated by a policeman, every step brought her into quieter streets. She + was now in that part of London which is the world's busiest market-place + by day, but is shut up and deserted at night. Her light footsteps echoed + against the shutters of the shops. The moon had risen, and she could see + far down the empty street. + </p> + <p> + She found the place at last. It was one of London's weather-beaten old + churches, shouldered by shops on either hand, and almost pushed back by + the tide of traffic. There was an iron gate at the side, leading by an + arched passage to a little courtyard, which was bounded by two high blank + walls, by the back wall of the church, and by the front of a large house + with a small doorway and many small windows. In the middle of the + courtyard there was a tree with a wooden seat round its trunk. + </p> + <p> + And being there, she felt afraid and almost wished she had not come. The + church was dimly lighted, and she thought perhaps the cleaners were + within. But presently there was a sound of singing, in men's voices only, + and without any kind of musical accompaniment. Just then the clock in the + steeple struck nine, and chimes began to play: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Days and moments quickly flying. +</pre> + <p> + The singing came to an end, and there was some low, inarticulate droning, + and then a general “Amen.” The hammer of the bell continued to beat out + its hymn, and Glory stood under the shadow of the tree to collect her + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Then the sacristy door opened and a line of men came out. They were in + long black cassocks, and they crossed the courtyard from the church to the + house with the measured and hasty step of monks, and with their hands + clasped at their breasts. Almost at the end of the line, walking with an + old man whose tread was heavy, there was a younger one who was bareheaded, + and who did not wear the cassock. The moon threw a light on his face, + which looked pale and worn. It was John Storm. + </p> + <p> + Glory gave a faint cry, a gasp, and he turned round as if startled. + </p> + <p> + “Only the creaking of the sycamore,” said the Superior. And then the + mysterious shadows took them; they passed into the house, the door was + closed, and she was alone with the chimes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Days and moments quickly flying, + Blend the living with the dead. +</pre> + <p> + Glory's strength had deserted her, and she went away as she came. When she + got back to Victoria, she felt for the first time as if her own little + life had been swallowed up in the turmoil of London, and she had gone down + to the cold depths of an icy sea. + </p> + <p> + It was a quarter to ten when she returned to the ward, and the matron, + with her dog on her lap, was waiting to receive her. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I tell you that you could not go out to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Then how did you dare to go?” + </p> + <p> + Glory looked at her unwaveringly, with glittering eyes that seemed to + smile, whereupon the matron picked up her dog, gathered up her train, and + swept out of the ward, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Nurse, you can leave me at the end of your term; and you need never cross + the doors of this institution again.” + </p> + <p> + Then Glory, who had all night wanted to cry, burst into laughter. The ward + Sister reproved her, but she laughed in the woman's fat face, and would + have given worlds to slap it. + </p> + <p> + There was not a nurse in the hospital who showed more bright and cheerful + spirits when the patients were being prepared for the night. But next + morning, in the gray dawn, when she had dragged herself to bed, and was + able at length to be alone, she beat the pillows with both hands and + sobbed in her loneliness and shame. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. + </h2> + <p> + But youth is rich in hope, and at noon, when Glory awoke, the thought of + Drake flashed upon her like light in a dark place. He had compelled Lord + Robert to assist Polly in a worse extremity, and he would assist her in + her present predicament. How often he had hinted that the hospital was not + good enough for her, and that some day and somewhere Fate would find other + work for her and another sphere. The time had come; she would appeal to + him, and he would hasten to help her. + </p> + <p> + She began to revive the magnificent dreams that had floated in her mind + for months. No need to tell the people at home of her dismissal and + disgrace; no need to go back to the island. She would be somebody in her + own right yet. Of course, she would have to study, to struggle, to endure + disappointments, but she would triumph in the end. And when at length she + was great and famous she would be good to other poor girls; and as often + as she thought of John Storm in his solitude in his cell, though there + might be a pang, a red stream running somewhere within, she would comfort + herself with the thought that she, too, was doing her best; she, too, had + her place, and it was a useful and worthy one. + </p> + <p> + Before that time came, however, there would be managers to influence and + engagements to seek, and perhaps teachers to pay for. But Drake was rich + and generous and powerful; he had a great opinion of her talents, and he + would stop at nothing. + </p> + <p> + Leaping out of bed, she sat down at the table as she was and wrote to him: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mr. Drake: Try to see me to-night. I want your advice immediately. + What do you think? I have got myself 'noticed' at last, and as a + consequence I am to leave at the end of my term. So things are urgent, you + see. I 'wave my lily hand' to you. Glory. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—save time I suggest the hour and the place: eight o'clock, St. + James's Park, by the bridge going down from Marlborough House.” + </p> + <p> + Drake received this note as he was sitting alone in his chambers smoking a + cigarette after drinking a cup of tea, in that hour of glamour that is + between the lights. It seemed to bring with it a secret breath of passion + out of the atmosphere in which it had been written. At the first impulse + it went up to his lips, but at the next moment he was smitten by the + memory of something, and he thought: “I will do what is right; I will play + the game fair.” + </p> + <p> + He dined that night with a group of civil servants at his club in St. + James's Street, but at a quarter to eight, notwithstanding some playful + bantering, he put on his overcoat and turned toward the park. The autumn + night was soft and peaceful; the stars were out and the moon had risen; a + fragrant mist came up from the lake, and the smoke of his cigar was hardly + troubled by the breeze that pattered the withered tassels of the + laburnums. Big Ben was striking eight as he reached the end of the little + bridge, and almost immediately afterward he was aware of soft and hurrying + footsteps approaching him. + </p> + <p> + Glory had come down by the Mall. The whispering of the big white trees in + the moonlight was like company, and she sang to herself as she walked. Her + heart seemed to have gone into her heels since yesterday, for her step was + light and sometimes she ran a few paces. She arrived out of breath as the + great clock was striking, and seeing the figure of a gentleman in evening + dress by the end of the bridge, she stopped to collect herself. + </p> + <p> + Her hand was hot and a little damp when Drake took it, and her face was + somewhat flushed. She had all at once become ashamed that she had come to + ask him for anything, and she took out her pocket-handkerchief and began + to roll it in her palms. He misunderstood her agitation, and trying to + cover it he offered her his arm and took her across the bridge, and they + turned westward down the path that runs along the margin of the lake. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Storm has gone,” she said, thinking to explain herself. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Is it generally known, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I had a letter from him yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it about me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not mind if he says things, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't, Glory. I set them down to the egotism of the religious man. The + religious man can not believe that anybody can live a moral life and act + on principle except from the religious impulse.... I suppose he has warned + you against me, hasn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm at a loss to know what I've done to deserve it. But time must justify + me. I am not a religious man myself, you know, though I hate to talk of + it. To tell you the truth, I think the religious idea a monstrous egotism + altogether, and the love of God merely the love of self. Still, you must + judge for yourself, Glory.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we not wasting our time a little?” she said. “I am here; isn't that + proof enough of my opinion?” And then in an agitated whisper she added: “I + have only half an hour, the gates will be closing, and I want to ask your + advice, you know. You remember what I told you in my letter?” + </p> + <p> + He patted the hand on his arm and said, “Tell me how it happened.” + </p> + <p> + She told him everything, with many pauses, expecting every moment that he + would break in upon her and say, “Why didn't you box the woman's ears?” or + perhaps laugh and assure her that it did not matter in the least, and she + was making too much of a mere bagatelle. But he listened to every + syllable, and after she had finished there was silence for a moment. Then + he said: “I'm sorry—very sorry; in fact, I am much troubled about + it.” + </p> + <p> + Her nerves were throbbing hard and her hand on his arm was twitching. + </p> + <p> + “If you had left of your own accord after that scene in the board room, it + would have been so different—so easy for me to help you!” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I should have spoken to my chief—he is a governor of many hospitals—and + said, 'A young friend of mine, a nurse, is uncomfortable in her present + place and would like to change her hospital.' It would have been no sooner + said than done. But now—now there is the black book against you, and + God knows if ... In fact, somebody has laid a trap for you, Glory, + intending to get rid of you at the first opportunity, and you seem to have + walked straight into it.” + </p> + <p> + She felt stunned. “He has forgotten all he has said to me,” she thought. + In a feeble, expressionless voice she asked: + </p> + <p> + “But what am I to do now?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me think.” + </p> + <p> + They walked some steps in silence. “He is turning it over,” she thought. + “He will tell me how to begin.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, as if seized by a new idea. + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell them where you had been?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, in the same weak voice. + </p> + <p> + “But why not do so? There is hope in that. The chaplain was your friend—your + only friend in London, so far as they know. Surely that is an extenuating + circumstance so plausible——” + </p> + <p> + “But I cannot——” + </p> + <p> + “I know it is bitter to explain—to apologize—and if I can do + it for you——” + </p> + <p> + “I will not allow it!” she said. Her lips were set, and her breath was + coming through them in gusts. + </p> + <p> + “It is a pity to allow the hospitals to be closed against you. Nursing is + a good profession, Glory—even a fashionable one. It is true womanly + work, and——” + </p> + <p> + “That was what he said.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? John Storm? He was right. Indeed, he was an entirely honourable and + upright man, and——” + </p> + <p> + “But <i>you</i> always seemed to say there were other things more worthy + of a girl, and if she had a mind to—— But no matter. We + needn't talk about the hospitals any longer. I am not fit for them and + shall never go back to them, whatever happens.” + </p> + <p> + He looked down at her. She was biting her lips, and the tears were + gathering in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, never mind, dear,” he said, and he patted her hand again. + </p> + <p> + The moon had begun to wane, and out of the dark shadows they walked in + they could see the lines of houses lit up all around. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” she said, with a feeble laugh, “in all this great busy London is + there nothing else I'm fit for?” + </p> + <p> + “You are fit for anything in the world, my dear,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Her nerves were throbbing harder than ever. “Perhaps he doesn't remember,” + she thought. Should she tell him what he said so often about her talents, + and how much she might be able to make of them? + </p> + <p> + “Is there nothing a girl can do except go down on her knees to a woman?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and talked some nonsense about the kneeling. “Poor little + woman, she doesn't know what she is doing,” he thought. + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't mind what people thought of me,” she said, “not even my own + people, who have been brought up with such narrow ideas, you know. They + might think what they liked, if I felt I was in the right place at last—the + right place for me, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + Her nervous fingers were involuntarily clutching at his coat sleeve. “Now, + any other man——” he thought. + </p> + <p> + She began to cry. “He <i>won't</i> remember,” she told herself. “It was + only his way of being agreeable when he praised me and predicted such + wonderful things. And now his good breeding will not allow him to tell me + there are hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of girls in London as + likely to——” + </p> + <p> + “Come, you mustn't cry, Glory. It's not so bad as that.” + </p> + <p> + She had never seemed to him so beautiful, and he wanted to take her in his + arms and comfort her. + </p> + <p> + “I had no one but you to come to,” she murmured in her confusion. But she + was thinking: “Why didn't you stop me before? Why have you let me go on + all these months?” + </p> + <p> + “I must try to think of something, and I'll speak to my friend Rosa—Miss + Macquarrie, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a man,” said Glory, “and I thought perhaps——” But she + could not speak of her fool's paradise now, she was so deeply ashamed and + abased. + </p> + <p> + “That's just the difficulty, my dear. If I were not a man, I might so + easily help you.” + </p> + <p> + What did he mean? The frogs kept croaking at the margin of the lake, + disturbed by the sound of their footsteps. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you were to tell me to do I should do it,” she said, in the same + confused murmur. She was ruining herself with every word she uttered. + </p> + <p> + He drew up and stood before her, so close that she could feel his breath, + on her face. “My dear Glory,” he said passionately, “don't think it isn't + terrible to me to renounce the happiness of helping you, but I must not, I + dare not, I will not take it.” + </p> + <p> + She could scarcely breathe for the shame that took sudden hold of her. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows I would give anything to have the joy of looking after your + happiness, dear, but I should despise myself forever if I took advantage + of your circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + Good God! What did he think she had been asking of him? + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of yourself, Glory, because I want to esteem you and honour + you, and because your good name is above everything else—everything + else in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Her shame was now abject. It stifled her, deafened her, blinded her. She + could not speak or hear or see. + </p> + <p> + He took her hand and pressed it. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go,” she stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Stay—do not go yet!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “One moment——” + </p> + <p> + But with a cry like the cry of a startled bird she disappeared in the + shadow of the trees. + </p> + <p> + He stood a moment where she had left him, tingling in every nerve, wanting + to follow her, and overtake her, and kiss her, and abandon everything. But + he buttoned up his overcoat and turned away, telling himself that whatever + another man might have done in the same case he at least had done rightly, + and that men like John Storm were wrong if they thought it was impossible + to act on principle without the impulse of religion. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Glory was flying through the darkness and weeping in the + bitterness of her disappointment and shame. The big trees overhead were + all black now and very gaunt and grim, and the breeze was moaning in their + branches. + </p> + <p> + “I had disgrace enough already,” she thought; “I might have spared myself + a degradation like this!” + </p> + <p> + Drake had supposed that she came to plead for herself to-night as she had + pleaded for Polly a week ago. How natural that he should think so! How + natural and yet how hideous! + </p> + <p> + “I hate him! I hate him!” she thought. + </p> + <p> + John Storm had been right. In their heart of hearts these men of society + had only one idea about a girl, and she had stumbled on it unawares. They + never thought of her as a friend and an equal, but only as a dependent and + a plaything, to be taken or left as they liked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how shameful to be a woman—how shameful, how shameful!” + </p> + <p> + And Drake had renounced her! In the hideous tangle of his error he had + renounced her! For honour's sake, and her own sake, and for sake of his + character as a gentleman—renounced her! Oh, there was somebody who + would never have renounced her whatever had happened, and yet she had + driven him away, and he was gone forever! + </p> + <p> + “I hate myself! I hate myself!” + </p> + <p> + She remembered how often out of recklessness and daring and high spirits, + but without a thought of evil, she had broken through the barrier of + manners and given Drake occasion to think lightly of her—at the + ball, at the theatre, at tea in his chambers, and by dressing herself up + as a man. + </p> + <p> + “I hate myself! I hate myself!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm was right, and Drake in his different way was right too, and + she alone had been to blame. But Fate was laughing at her, and the jest + was very, very cruel. + </p> + <p> + “No matter. It is all for the best,” she thought. She would be the + stronger for this experience—the stronger and the purer too, to + stand alone and to face the future. + </p> + <p> + She got back to the hospital just as the great clock of Westminster was + chiming the half-hour, and she stood a moment on the steps to listen to + it. Only half an hour had passed, and yet all the world had changed! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. + </h2> + <p> + It was the last day of Glory's probation, and, dressed in the long blue + ulster in which she came from the Isle of Man, she was standing in the + matron's room waiting for her wages and discharge. The matron was sitting + sideways at her table, with her dog snarling in her lap. She pointed to a + tiny heap of gold and silver and to a foolscap paper which lay beside it. + </p> + <p> + “That is your month's salary, nurse, and this is your 'character.' The + 'character' has given me a deal of trouble. I have done all I could for + you. I have said you were bright and cheerful, and that the patients liked + you. I trust I have not committed myself too far.” + </p> + <p> + Glory gathered up the money, but left the “character” untouched. + </p> + <p> + “You need not be anxious, ma'am; I shall not require it.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you got a situation?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then where are you going next?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—yet.” + </p> + <p> + “How much money have you saved?” + </p> + <p> + “About three months' wages.” + </p> + <p> + “Only three pounds altogether!” + </p> + <p> + “It will be quite sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “What friends have you got in London?” + </p> + <p> + “None—that is to say—no, none whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don't you go back to your island?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I don't wish to be a burden upon my people, and because earning + my living in London doesn't depend on the will or the whim of any woman.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just like you. I might have dismissed you instantly, but for the + sake of the chaplain I've borne with your rudeness and irregularities, and + even tried to be your friend, and yet—— I dare say you've not + even told your people why you are leaving the hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't—I haven't told them yet that I'm leaving at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I've a great mind to do it for you. A venturesome, headstrong girl + who flings herself on London is in danger of ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't trouble yourself, ma'am,” said Glory, opening the door to go. + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” said the matron. + </p> + <p> + Glory stood at her full height and answered: + </p> + <p> + “Because if you said that of me there is nobody in the world would believe + you!” + </p> + <p> + Her box had been brought down to the hall, and the porter, who wished to + be friendly, was cording it. + </p> + <p> + “May I leave it in your care, porter, until I am able to call for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certingly, nurse. Sorry you're goin'. I'll miss your face, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I'll call for my letters also.” + </p> + <p> + “There's one just come.” + </p> + <p> + It was from Aunt Anna, and was full of severe reproof and admonition. + Glory was not to think of leaving the hospital; she must try to be content + with the condition to which God had called her. But why had her letters + been so few of late? and how did it occur that she had never told them + about Mr. Storm? He had gone for good into that strange Brotherhood, it + seemed. Not Catholic, and yet a monastery. Most extraordinary! They were + all eagerly waiting to hear more about it. Besides, the grandfather was + anxious on Glory's account. If half they heard was true, the dangers of + London—— + </p> + <p> + The house-surgeon came down to say good-bye. He had always been as free + and friendly as Sister Allworthy would allow. They stood a moment at the + door together. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going to?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere—nowhere—everywhere; to 'all the airts the wind can + blaw.'” + </p> + <p> + It was a clear, bright morning, with a light, keen frost. On looking out, + Glory saw that flags were flying on the public buildings. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's going on?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know? It's the ninth of November—Lord Mayor's Day.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed merrily. “A good omen. I'm the female Dick Whittington! Here + goes for it! Good-bye, hospital nursing.—By-bye, doctor.” + </p> + <p> + She dropped him a playful curtsy at the bottom of the steps, and then + tripped along the street. + </p> + <p> + “What a girl it is!” he thought. “And what is to become of her in this + merciless old London?” + </p> + <p> + She had taken less than a score of steps from the hospital when blinding + teardrops leaped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks; but she only + dropped her veil and walked on boldly. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SECOND BOOK. — <i>THE RELIGIOUS LIFE.</i> + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + The Society of the Holy Gethsemane, popularly called the Bishopsgate + Fathers, was one of the many conventual institutions of the English Church + which came as a sequel to the great upheaval of religious feeling known as + the Tractarian or Oxford movement. Most of them gave way under the + pressure of external opposition, some of them broke down under the strain + of internal dissension, and a few lived on as secret brotherhoods, in + obedience to a rule which was never divulged by their members, who were + said to wear a hair shirt next the skin and to scourge themselves with the + lash of discipline. + </p> + <p> + Of these conventual institutions the Society of the Holy Gethsemane had + been one of the earliest, and it was now quite the oldest, although it had + challenged not only the traditions of the Reformed Church but the spirit + of the age itself by establishing its place of prayer at the very doors of + the Stock Exchange—that crater of volcanic emotions, that generating + house for the electric currents of the world. + </p> + <p> + Its founder and first Superior had been a man of iron will, who had fought + his way through ecclesiastical courts and popular anger, and even family + persecution, which had culminated in an effort of his own brother to shut + him up as a lunatic. His first disciple and most stanch supporter had been + the Rev. Charles Frederic Lamplugh, a fellow of Corpus, newly called to + orders after an earlier career which had been devoted to the world, and, + according to rumour, nearly wrecked in an affair of the heart. + </p> + <p> + When the community had proved its legal right to exist within the + Establishment and public clamour had subsided, this disciple was + despatched to America, and there he established a branch brotherhood and + became great and famous. At the height of his usefulness and renown he was + recalled, and this exercise of authority provoked a universal outcry among + his admirers. But he obeyed; he left his fame and glory in America and + returned to his cell in London, and was no more heard of by the outer + world until the founder of the society died, when he was elected by the + brothers to the vacant place of Superior. + </p> + <p> + Father Lamplugh was now a man of seventy, so gentle in his manner, so + sweet in his temper, so pious in his life, that when he stepped out of his + room to greet John Storm on his arrival in Bishopsgate Street it seemed as + if he brought the air of heaven in the rustle of his habit, and to have + come from the holy of holies. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome! welcome!” he said. “I knew you would come to us; I have been + expecting you. The first time I saw you I said to myself: 'Here is one who + bears a burden; the world can not satisfy the cravings of a heart like + that; he will surrender it some day.'” + </p> + <p> + Having been there before, though in “Retreat” only, he entered at once + into the life of the Brotherhood. It was arranged that he was to spend + some two or three months as postulant, then to take the vow of a novice + for one year, and finally, if he proved his vocation, to seal and + establish his calling by taking the three life vows of poverty, chastity, + and obedience. + </p> + <p> + The home of the Brotherhood was one of those old London mansions in the + heart of the city, which were built perhaps for the palaces of dignitaries + of the Church, and were afterward occupied as the houses and offices of + London merchants and their apprentices, and have eventually descended to + the condition of warehouses and stores and tenement dwellings for the + poor. Its structure remained the same, but the brothers made no effort to + support its ancient grandeur. Nothing more simple can be imagined than the + appointments of their monastery. The carved-oak staircase was there, but + the stairs wore carpetless, and the panelled and parqueted hall was bare + of ornament, except for a picture, in a pale oaken frame, of the head of + Christ in its crown of thorns. A plain clock in a deal case was nailed up + under the floral cornice, and beneath it there hung the text: “Lord, who + shall dwell in thy tabernacle, or who shall rest upon thy holy hill? Even + he that leadeth an uncorrupt life.” The old dining-room was now the + community room, the old kitchen was the refectory, the spacious bedrooms + were partitioned into cells, and the corridors, which had once been + covered with tapestry, were now coated with whitewash, and bore the + inscription, “Silence in the passages.” + </p> + <p> + In this house of poverty and dignity, of past grandeur and present + simplicity, the brothers lived in community. They were forty in number, + consisting of ten lay brothers, ten novices, and twenty professed Fathers. + The lay brothers, who were under the special direction of their own + Superior, the Father Minister, and were rarely allowed to go into the + street, had to clean the house and bake the bread and cook and serve the + food which was delivered at the door, and thus, in that narrow circle of + duty, they proved their piety by their devotion to a lot which condemned + them to scour and scrub to the last day of life. The clerical brothers, + who were nearly all in full orders, enjoyed a more varied existence, being + confined to the precincts only during a part of their novitiate, and then + sent out at the will of the Superior to preach in the churches of London + or the country, and even despatched on expeditions to establish missions + abroad. + </p> + <p> + The lay brothers had their separate retiring room, but John Storm met his + clerical housemates on the night of his arrival. It was the hour of + evening recreation, and they were gathered in the community room for + reading and conversation. The stately old dining-room was as destitute as + the corridors of adornments or even furniture. Straw armchairs stood on + the clean, white floor; a bookcase, containing many volumes of the + Fathers, lined one of the panelled walls; and over the majestic fireplace + there was a plain card with the inscription, “There be eunuchs which have + made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake.” + </p> + <p> + The brothers gathered about him and examined him with a curiosity which + was more than personal. To this group of men, detached from life, the + arrival of some one from the outer world was an event of interest. He knew + what wars had been waged, what epidemics were raging, what Governments had + risen and fallen. He might not speak of these things in casual talk, for + it was against rule to discuss, for its own sake, what had been seen or + heard outside, but they were in the air about him, and they were happening + on the other side of the wall. + </p> + <p> + And he on his part also examined his housemates, and; tried to guess what + manner of men they were and what had brought them to that place. They were + men of all ages, and nearly every school of the Church had sent its + representatives. Here was the pale face of the ascetic, and there the + guileless eyes of the saint. Some were keen and alert, others were timid + and slow. All wore the long black cassock of the community, and many wore + the rope with three knots. They spoke little of the world outside, but it + was clear that they could not dismiss it from their thoughts. Their talk + was cheerful, and the Father told stories of his preaching expeditions + which provoked some laughter. They had no newspapers (except one + well-known High-Church organ) and no games, and there was no smoking. + </p> + <p> + The bell rang for supper, and they went down to the refectory. It was a + large apartment in the basement, and it still bore the emblems of its + ancient service. Over the great kitchen ingle there was yet another card + with the inscription, “Neither said any of them that aught of the things + which he possessed was his own, but they had all things in common.” A + table, scoured white, ran round three sides of the room, the seats were + forms without backs, and there was one chair—the Superior's chair—in + the middle. + </p> + <p> + The supper consisted of porridge and milk and brown bread, and it was + eaten out of plates and cans of pewter. While it lasted one of the + brothers, seated at a raised desk, read first a few passages of Scripture, + and then some pages, of a secular book which the religious were thus + hearing at their meals. The supper was hardly over when the bell rang + again. It was time for Compline, the last service of the day, and the + brothers formed in procession and passed out of the house, across the + courtyard, into the little church. + </p> + <p> + The old place was dimly lighted, but the brothers occupied the chancel + only. They sat in two companies on opposite sides of the choir, in three + rows of stalls, the lay brothers in front, the novices next, and the + Fathers at the back. Each side had its leader in the recitation of the + prayers. The Miserere was said kneeling, the Psalms were sung with + frequent pauses, each of the duration of the words “Ave Maria,” producing + the effect of a broken wail. The service was short, and it ended with “May + the Lord Almighty grant us a quiet night and a perfect end.” There was + another stroke of the bell, and the brothers returned to the house in + silence. + </p> + <p> + John Storm walked with the Superior, and passing through the courtyard, in + the light of the moon that had risen while they were at prayers, he was + startled by the sound of something. + </p> + <p> + “Only the creaking of the sycamore,” said the Father. + </p> + <p> + He had thought it was the voice of Glory, but he had been hearing her cry + throughout the service, so he dismissed the circumstance as a dream. Half + an hour later the household had retired for the night, the lights were put + out, and the Society of the Gethsemane was at rest. + </p> + <p> + John's cell was on the topmost floor, next to the quarters of the lay + brothers. There was nothing above it but a high lead flat, which was + sometimes used by the religious as watch-tower and breathing place. The + cell was a narrow room with bare floor, a small table, one chair, a + prayingstool, a crucifix, and a stump bed, having a straw pillow and a + crimson coverlet marked with a large white cross. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he thought, “my journey is at an end. This is my resting-place for + life.” The mighty hand of the Church was on him and he felt a deep peace. + He was like a ship that had been tossed at sea and was lying quiet in + harbour at last. + </p> + <p> + Without was the world, the fantastic world, forever changing; within were + gentle if strict rules and customs securely fixed. Without was the + ceaseless ebb and flow of the financial tide; within were content and + sweet poverty and no disturbing fears. Without were struggle and strife + and the fever of gain; within were peace and happiness and the grand + mysteries which God reveals to the soul in solitude. + </p> + <p> + He began to pass his life in review and to think: “Well, it is all over, + at all events. I shall never leave this place. Friends who forgive me, + good-bye! And foes who are unforgiving, good-bye to you too! + </p> + <p> + “And the world—the great, vain, cruel, hypocritical world—farewell + to it also! Farewell to its pomp and its glory! Farewell to life, and + liberty, and—love——” + </p> + <p> + The wind was rustling the leaves of the tree in the courtyard, and he + could not help but hear again the voice he had heard when crossing from + the church. His eyes were closed, but Glory's face, with its curling and + twitching lip and its laughing and liquid eyes, was printed on the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Ave Maria,” he murmured; and saying this again and again, he fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the daylight had not quite dawned when he was awakened by a + knock at his door and a low voice saying, “Benedicamus Domino!” + </p> + <p> + It was the Father Superior, who made it his rule to rouse the household + himself, on the principle of “whosoever will be chief among you, let him + be your servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Deo Gratias,” he answered, and the voice went on through the corridor. + Then the bell rang for Lauds and Prime, and John left his cell to begin + his life as Brother Storm. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + Though it was against the rule of the Order to indulge in particular + friendships, yet in obedience to the rule of Nature he made friends among + the brothers. His feeling for the Superior became stronger than love and + approached to adoration, and there were certain of the Fathers to whom his + heart went out with a tender sympathy. The Father Minister was a man of a + hard, closed soul, very cantankerous and severe; but the rest were gentle + and timid men for the most part, with a wistful outlook on the world. + </p> + <p> + It was due in part to the proximity of his cell to the quarters assigned + to the lay brothers that his two closest friendships were made among them. + One was with a great creature, like an overgrown boy, who kept the door to + the monastery by day, and alternated that duty with another by night. He + was called Brother Andrew—for the lay brothers were known by their + Christian names—and he was one of those characterless beings who are + only happy when they have merged their individuality in another's and + joined their fate to his. He attached himself to John from the first, and + as often as he was at liberty he was hanging about him, ready to fetch and + carry in his shambling gait, which was like the roll of an old dog. The + expression of his beardless face was that of a boy, and he had no + conversation, for he always agreed with everything that was said to him. + </p> + <p> + The other of John's friendships was with the lay brother whom he had known + outside—the brother of Polly Love—but this was a friendship of + slower growth, impeded by a tragic obstacle. John had seen him first in + the refectory on the night of his arrival, and observed in his face the + marks of suffering and exhaustion. At various times afterward he had seen + him in the church and encountered him in the corridors, and had sometimes + bowed to him and smiled, but the brother had never once given sign of + recognition. At length he had begun to doubt his identity, and one + morning, going upstairs from breakfast side by side with the Superior, he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Father, is the lay brother with the melancholy eyes and the pale face the + one whom I knew at the hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Father; “but he is under the rule of silence.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Does he know what has become of his sister?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + It was the morning hour of recreation, and the Father drew John into the + courtyard and talked of Brother Paul. + </p> + <p> + He was much tormented by thoughts of the world without, and being a young + man of a weak nervous system and a consumptive tendency, such struggles + with the evil one were hurtful to him. Therefore, though it was the rule + that a lay brother should not be consecrated until after long years of + service, it had been decided that he should take the vows immediately, in + order that Satan might yield up his hold of him and the world might drag + at him no more. + </p> + <p> + “Is that your experience?” said John; “when a religious has taken the + vows, are his thoughts of the world all conquered?” + </p> + <p> + “He is like the sailor making ready for his voyage. As long as he lies in + harbour his thoughts are of the home he has left behind him; but when he + has once crossed the bar and is out on the ocean he thinks only of the + haven where he would be.” + </p> + <p> + “But are there no backward glances, Father? The sailor may write to the + friends he has parted from—surely the religious may pray for them.” + </p> + <p> + “As brothers and sisters of the spirit, yes, always and at all times; as + brothers and sisters of the flesh, no, never, save in hours of especial + need. He is the spouse of Christ, my son, and all Christ's children are + his kindred equally.” + </p> + <p> + As a last word the Father begged of John to abstain from reference to + anything that had happened at the hospital, lest Brother Paul might hear + of it and manifold evils be the result. + </p> + <p> + The warning seemed needless. From that day forward John tried to avoid + Brother Paul. In church and in the refectory he kept his eyes away from + him. He could not see that worn face, with its hungry look, and not think + of a captured eagle with a broken wing. It was with a shock that he + discovered that their cells were side by side. If they came near to each + other in the corridors he experienced a kind of terror, and was thankful + for the rule of silence which forbade them to speak. Under the smouldering + ashes there might be coals of fire which only wanted a puff to fan them + into flame. + </p> + <p> + They came face to face at last. It was on the lead flat of the tower above + their cells. John had grown accustomed to go there after Compline, that he + might look on London from that eminence and thank God that he had escaped + from its clutches. The stars were out, and the city lay like a great + monster around and beneath. Something demoniacal had entered into his view + of it. Down there was the river, winding like a serpent through its sand, + and here and there were the bridges, like the scales across it, and + farther west was the head of the great creature, just beginning to be + ablaze with lights. + </p> + <p> + “She is there,” he thought, and then he was startled by a sound. Had he + uttered the words aloud? But it was some one else who had spoken. Brother + Paul was standing by the parapet with his eyes in the same direction. When + he became conscious that John was behind him he stammered something in his + confusion, and than hurried away as if he had been detected in a crime. + </p> + <p> + “God pity him!” thought John. “If he only knew what has happened!” + </p> + <p> + Going back to his cell, he began to think of Glory. By the broken links of + memory he remembered for the first time, since coming into the monastery, + the condition of insecurity in which he had left her. How uncertain her + position at the hospital, how perilous her relations with her friend! + </p> + <p> + The last prayer of the day for the brothers of the Gethsemane was the + prayer before the crucifix by the side of the bed: “Thanks be to God for + giving me the trials of this day!” To this he added another petition: “And + bless and protect her wheresoever she may be!” + </p> + <p> + He ceased to frequent the tower after that, and did not go up to it again + until the morning of the day on which he was to make his vows. By this + time his soul had spent itself so prodigally in prayer that he had almost + begun to regard himself as one already in another world. The morning was + clear and frosty, and he could see that something unusual was taking place + on the earth below. Traffic was stopped, the open spaces were crowded, and + processions were passing through the streets with bands of music playing + and banners flying. Then he remembered what day it was—it was Lord + Mayor's Day, the 9th of November—and once again he thought of Glory. + She would be there, for her heart was light and she loved the world and + all its scenes of gaiety and splendour. + </p> + <p> + It was the day of his final preparation, and he was under the rule of + silence, so he returned to his cell and shut the door. But he could not + shut out the sounds of the streets. All day long the bands were playing + and the horses prancing, and there was the tramp of many feet. And even in + the last hour before the ceremony, when he was on his knees in front of + the crucifix and the palms of his hands were pressed against his face, he + could see the gay spectacle and the surging throngs—the men, the + women, the children in every window, on every parapet, and Glory in the + midst of them with her laughing lips and her sparkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + Night brought peace with it at length, and then the bell rang and he went + down to service. The brothers were waiting for him in the hall, and they + formed into line and passed into the church: first, Brother Andrew with + the cross, then Brother Paul with the incense, and the other lay brothers + with the candles, then the religious in their cassocks, and the Superior + in his cope, and John Storm last of all. + </p> + <p> + The altar was decorated as for a feast, and the service was strange but + solemn. John had drawn up in writing a promise of stability and obedience, + and this he placed with his own hand on the altar. Down to that moment he + had worn his costume as a secular priest, but now he was to be robed in + the habit of the Order. + </p> + <p> + The Father stood on the altar steps with the habit lying at his feet. He + took it up and blessed it and then put it on John, saying as he bound it + with the cord, “Take this cord and wear it in memory of the purity of + heart wherewith you must ever hereafter seek to abide in the love and + service of our Lord Jesus.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment a door was suddenly and loudly slammed, to signify that the + world was being shut out; the choir said the Gloria Patri, and then sang a + hymn beginning: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Farewell, thou world of sorrow, + Unrest, and schism and strife! + I leave thee on the threshold + Of the celestial life. +</pre> + <p> + It was the occasion of Brother Paul's life vows also, and as John stood + back from the altar steps the lay brother was brought up to them. He was + very pale and nervous, and he would have stumbled but for the help of the + Father Minister and Brother Andrew, who walked on either side of him. + </p> + <p> + Then the same ceremony was gone through again, but with yet more solemn + accessories. The burial service was read, the De Profundis was sung, the + bell was tolled, the Ecce quam bonum was intoned, and finally the chant + was chanted: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dead to Him, then death is over, + Dead and gone are death's dark fears. +</pre> + <p> + John Storm was profoundly stirred. The heavens seemed to open and all the + earth to pass away. It was difficult to believe that he was still in the + flesh. + </p> + <p> + When he was able to collect himself he was on the tower again, but in his + cassock now and gripping the cord by which it was tied. The frosty air of + the morning had thickened to a fog, the fog-signals were sounding, and the + mighty monster below seemed to be puffing fire from a thousand nostrils + and bellowing from a thousand throats. + </p> + <p> + Some one had come up to him. It was Brother Paul. He was talking nervously + and even pretending to laugh a little. + </p> + <p> + “I am so happy to see you here. And I am glad the silence is at an end and + I am able to tell you so.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said John, and he tried to pass him. + </p> + <p> + “I always knew you would come to us—that is to say, after the night + I heard you at the hospital—the night of the Nurses' Ball, you + remember, and the Father's visit, you know. Still, I trust there was + nothing wrong—nothing at the hospital, I mean——” + </p> + <p> + John was fumbling for the door to the dormer. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody loved you too—the patients and the nurses and everybody! + How they will miss you there! I trust you left everybody well—and + happy and—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” said John from the head of the stair. + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment, and then the brother said, in another + voice: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand you. I know quite well what you mean. It is a fault to + speak of the outer world except on especial need. We have taken the vows, + too, and are pledged for life—I am, at all events. Still, if you + could have told me anything—— But I am much to blame. I must + confess my fault and do my penance.” + </p> + <p> + John was diving down the stair and hurrying into his room. + </p> + <p> + “God help him!” he thought. “And me too! God help both of us! How am I to + live if I have to hide this secret? Yet how is he to live if he learns + it?” + </p> + <p> + He sat on the bed and tried to compose himself. Yes, Brother Paul was an + object for pity. In all the moral universe there was no spectacle more + pitiable than that of a man who had left the world while his heart was + still in it. What was he doing here? What had brought him? What business + had such a one in such a place? And then his pitiful helplessness for all + the uses of life and duty! Could it be right, could it be necessary, could + it be God's wish and will? + </p> + <p> + Here was a man whose sister was in the world. She was young and vain, and + the world was gay and seductive. Without a hand to guide and guard her, + what evils might not befall? She was sunk already in shame and + degradation, and he had put it out of his power to save her. Whatever had + happened in the past, whatever might happen in the future, he was lost to + her forever. The captured eagle with the broken wing was now chained to + the wall as well. But prayer! Prayer was the bulwark of chastity, and God + was in need of no man's efforts. + </p> + <p> + John fell on his knees before the crucifix. With the broken logic of + reverie he was thinking of Glory, and Brother Paul, and Polly and Drake. + They crossed his brain and weighed upon it and went out and returned. The + night was cold, but the sweat stood on his brow in beads. In the depths of + his soul something was speaking to him, and he was trying not to listen. + He was like a blind man who had stumbled to the edge of a precipice, and + could hear the waves breaking on the rocks beneath. + </p> + <p> + When he said his last prayer that night he omitted the petition for Glory + (as duty seemed to require of him), and then found that all life and soul + and strength had gone out of it. In the middle of the night he awoke with + a sense of fright. Was it only a dream that he was dead and buried? He + raised his head in the darkness and stretched out his hand. No, it was + true. Little by little he pieced together the incidents of the previous + day. Yes, it had really happened. + </p> + <p> + “After all, I am not like Paul—I am not bound for life,” he told + himself, and then he lay back like a child and was comforted. + </p> + <p> + He was ashamed, but he could not help it; he was feeling already as if he + were a prisoner in a dungeon looking forward to his release. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <p> + “5a Little Turnstile, High Holborn, London, W. C., November 9, 18—. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + “Oh yiz, oh yiz, oh yiz! This is to announce to you with due pomp and + circumstance that I, Glory Quayle, am no longer at the hospital—for + the present. Did I never tell you? Have you never noticed it in the + regulations? Every half-year a nurse is entitled to a week's holiday, and + as I have been exactly six months to-day at Martha's Vineyard, and as a + week is too short a time for a trip to the 'oilan,' [* Island.] and as a + good lady whose acquaintance I have made here had given me a pressing + invitation to visit her—— See? + </p> + <p> + “Being the first day since I came up to London that I have been sole + mistress of my will and pleasure, I have been letting myself loose, like + Caesar does the moment his mad hoofies touch the grass. I must tell you + all about it. The day began beautifully. After a spell of laughing and + crying weather, and all the world sneezing and blowing its nose, there + came a frosty morning with the sun shining and the air as bright as + diamonds. I left the hospital between, eleven and twelve o'clock, and + crossing the park by Birdcage Walk I noticed that flags were flying on + Buckingham Palace and church bells ringing everywhere. It turned out to be + the birthday of the Prince of Wales, and the Lord Mayor's Day as well, and + by the time I got to Storey's Gate bands of music were playing and people + were scampering toward the Houses of Parliament. So I ran, too, and from + the gardens in front of Palace Yard I saw the Lord Mayor's Show. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what that is, good people? It is a civic pageant. Once a year + the City King makes a royal procession through the streets with his + soldiers and servants and keepers and pipers and retainers, bewigged and + bepowdered and bestockinged pretty much as they used to be in the days + before the flood. There have been seven hundred of him in succession, and + his particular vanity is to show that he is wearing the same clothes + still. But it was beautiful altogether, and I could have cried with + delight to see those grave-looking signiors forgetting themselves for once + and pretending they were big boys over again. + </p> + <p> + “Such a sight! Flags were flying everywhere and festoons were stretched + across the streets with mottoes and texts, such as 'Unity is strength' and + 'God save the Queen,' and other amiable if not original ideas. Traffic was + stopped in the main thoroughfares, and the 'buses were sent by devious + courses, much to the astonishment of the narrow streets. Then the crowds, + the dense layers of potted people with white, upturned faces, for all the + world like the pictures of the round stones standing upright at the + Giant's Causeway—it was wonderful! + </p> + <p> + “And then the fun! Until the procession arrived the policemen were really + obliging in that way. The one nearest me was as fat as Falstaff, and a + slim young Cockney in front kept addressing intimate remarks to him and + calling him Robert. The young impudence himself was just as ridiculous, + for he wore a fringe which was supported by hair-oil and soap, and rolled + carefully down the right side of his forehead so that he could always keep + his left eye on it. And he did, too. + </p> + <p> + “But the pageant itself! My gracious! how we laughed at it! There were + Epping Forest verderers, and beef-eaters from the Tower, and pipers of the + Scots Guards, and ladies of the ballet shivering on shaky stools and + pretending to be 'Freedom' and 'Commerce,' and last of all the City King + himself, smiling and bowing to all his subjects, and with his liegemen + behind him in yellow coats and red silk stockings. Perhaps the most + popular character was a Highlander in pink tights, where his legs ought to + have been, walking along as solemnly as if he thought it was a sort of + religious ceremony and he was an idol out for an airing. + </p> + <p> + “And then the bands! There must have been twenty of them, both brass and + fife, and they all played the Washington Post, but no two had the luck to + fall on the same bar at the same moment. It was a medley of all the tunes + in music, an absolute kaleidoscope of sounds, and meantime there was the + clash of bells from the neighbouring belfries in honour of the Prince's + birthday, and the rattle of musketry from the Guards, so that when the + double event was over I felt like the man whose wife presented him with + twins—I wouldn't have lost either of them for a million of money, + but I couldn't have found it in my heart to give a bawbee for another one. + </p> + <p> + “The procession took half an hour to pass, and when it was gone, + remembering the ladies in lovely dresses who had rolled by in their + gorgeous carriages, looking not a bit cleverer or handsomer than other + people, I turned away with a little hard lump at my heart and a limp in my + left foot—the young Cockney with the fringe had backed on to my toe. + I suppose they are feasting with the lords and all the nobility at the + Guildhall to-night, and no doubt the crumbs that fall from the rich man's + table will go in pies and cakes to the alleys and courts where hunger + walks, and I dare say little Lazarus in the Mile End Road is dreaming at + this very moment of Dick Whittington and the Lord Mayor of London. + </p> + <p> + “It must have been some waking dream of that sort which took possession of + me also, for what do you suppose I did? Shall I tell you? Yes, I will. I + said to myself: 'Glory, my child, suppose you were nearly as poor as he + was in this great, glorious, splendid London; suppose—only suppose—you + had no home and no friends, and had left the hospital, or perhaps even + been turned away from it, and hadn't a good lady's door standing open to + receive you, what would you do first, my dear?' To all which I replied + promptly, 'You would first get yourself lodgings, my child, and then you + would just go to work to show this great, glorious London what a woman can + do to bring it to her little feet.' + </p> + <p> + “I know grandfather is saying, 'Gough bless me, girl! you didn't try it, + though?' Well, yes, I did—just for fun, you know, and out of the + spirit of mischief that's born in every daughter of Eve. Do you remember + that Manx cat that wouldn't live in the house, notwithstanding all the + bribes and corruption of Aunt Rachel's new milk and softened bread, but + went off by the backyard wall to join the tribe of pariah pussies that + snatch a living how they may? Well, I felt like Rumpy for once, having + three 'goolden sovereigns' in my pocket and a mind superior to fate. + </p> + <p> + “It was glorious fun altogether, and the world is so amusing that I can't + imagine why anybody should go out of it before he must. I hadn't gone a + dozen yards in my new character as Dick Whittington <i>fille</i> before a + coachman as fat as an elephant was shouting, 'Where d'ye think yer going + ter?' and I was nearly run down in the Broad Sanctuary by a carriage + containing two brazen women in sealskin jackets, with faces so thick with + powder and paint that you would have thought they had been quarrelling on + washing day and thrown the blue bag at each other's eyes. I recognised one + of them as a former nurse who had left the hospital in disgrace, but + happily she didn't see me, for the little hard lump at my heart was + turning as bitter as gall at that moment, so I made some philosophical + observations to myself and passed on. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my gracious, these London landladies! They must be female Shylocks, + for the pound of flesh is the badge of all their tribe. The first one I + boarded asked two guineas for two rooms, and lights and fires extra. 'By + the month?' says I. 'Yus, by the month if ye like,' says she. 'Two guineas + a month?' says I. Marry come up! I was out of that house in a twinkling. + </p> + <p> + “Then I looked out a group of humbler thoroughfares, not far from the + Houses of Parliament, where nearly every house had a card fixed up on a + little green blind. At last I found a place that would do—for my + week, only my week, you know. Ten shillings and no extras. 'I'll take + them,' said I with a lofty air, and thereupon the landlady, a grim person, + with the suspicion of a mustache, began to cross-examine me. Was I + married? Oh, dear, no! Then what was my business? Fool that I was, I said + I had none, being full of my Dick Whittingtonism, and not choosing to + remember the hospital, for I was wearing my private clothes, you know. But + hoot! She didn't take unmarried young ladies without businesses, and I was + out in the street once more. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mind it, not I indeed, and it was only for fun after all; but + since people objected to girls without businesses, I made up my mind to be + a singer if anybody asked me the question again. My third landlady had + only one room, and it was on the second floor back, but before I got the + length of mounting to this eyry I went through my examination afresh. 'In + the profession, miss?' 'What profession?' 'The styge, of course.' 'Well, + ye—yes, something of that sort.' 'Don't tyke anybody that's on the + styge.' + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I could have screamed, it was so ridiculous; but time + was getting on, Big Ben was striking four, and the day was closing in. + Then I saw the sign, 'Home for Girls.' 'Wonder if it is a charity?' thinks + I; but no, it didn't look like that, so in I went as bold as brass, and + inquired for the manageress. 'Is it the matron you mean, miss?' 'Very + well, the matron then,' said I, and presently she came up—no, not + smiling, for she wasn't an amiable-looking Christian, but I thought she + would smother me with mysterious questions. 'Tired of the life, are you, + my dear? It <i>is</i> a cruel one, isn't it?' I stood my ground for some + minutes, and then, feeling dreadfully thick in the throat, and cold down + the back, I asked her what she was talking about, whereupon she looked + bewildered and inquired if I was a good girl, and being told that I hoped + so, she said she couldn't take me in there, and then pointed to a card oh + the wall which, simpleton that I was, I hadn't read before: 'A home and + rescue is offered to women who desire to leave a life of misery and + disgrace.' + </p> + <p> + “I <i>did</i> scream that time, the world was so nonsensical. At one + place, being 'on the styge' I was not good enough to be taken in, at + another I was not bad enough, and what in the name of all that was + ridiculous was going to happen next? But it was quite dark by this time, + the air was as black as a northwest gale, and I was 'aweary for all my + wings,' so forgetting Dick Whittington <i>fille</i>, and only remembering + the good female Samaritan who had asked me to stay with her, I made a dart + for Victoria Street and jumped into the first 'bus that came along, just + as the hotels and the clubs and the great buildings were putting' out the + Prince of Wales's feathers as sign and symbol of the usual rejoicings + within. + </p> + <p> + “It was an 'Atlas' omnibus, and it took me to Piccadilly Circus, and that + being the wrong direction, I had to change. But a fog had come down in the + meanwhile, and lo, there I was in the middle of it! + </p> + <p> + “O Ananias, Azarias, and Misael! Do you know what a London fog is? It's + smoke, it's soot, it's sulphur. It is darker than night, for it + extinguishes the lights, and denser than the mist on the Curragh, and + filthier than the fumes of the brick-kiln. It makes you think the whole + round earth must be a piggery copper and that London has lifted the lid + off. In the midst of this inferno the cabs crawl and the 'buses creep, and + foul fiends, who turn out to be men merely, go flitting about with + torches, and you grope and croak and cough, and the most innocent faces + come puffing and snorting down on you like the beasts in the Apocalypse. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it good fun at first, but presently I could only keep from + crying by having a good laugh, and I was doing that, and asking somebody + the way to the Holborn omnibus, when a policeman pushed me and said: + 'Come, move on; none of yer lyterin' abart here!' + </p> + <p> + “I could have choked, but remembering something I had seen on that very + spot on the night of my first day out, I dived across the street and ran + in spite of curses and collisions. But the 'somebody,' whoever he was, had + followed me, and he put me into the right 'bus, so I got here at last. It + took two mortal hours to do it, and after that spell of purgatory this + house is like a blessed paradise, peopled with angels of mercy and grace, + as paradise ought to be. + </p> + <p> + “The good Samaritan was very kind, and she made tea for me in a twinkling + and slaughtered the fatted calf in the shape of a pot of raspberry jam. + Her name is Mrs. Jupe, and her husband is something in a club, and she has + one child of eleven, whose bedfellow I am to be, and here I am now with + Miss Slyboots in our little bedroom feeling safe and sound and monarch of + all I survey. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, good people! Half an hour hence I'll be going through a mad + march of the incidents of the day, turned topsy-turvy according to the way + of dreams. But wae's me! wae's me! If it had all been true—if I had + been really homeless and friendless and penniless, instead of having three + 'goolden' pounds in my purse, and Providence in the person of Mrs. Jupe, + to fall back upon! When I grow to be a wonderful woman and have brought + the eyes of all the earth upon me, I am going to be good to poor girls who + have no anchorage in London. John Storm was right: this great, glorious, + brilliant, delightful London can be very cruel to them sometimes. It calls + to them, beckons to them, smiles on them, makes them think there must be + joy in the blaze of so much light and luxury and love by the side of so + many palaces, and then—— + </p> + <p> + “But perhaps the mischief lies deeper down; and though I'm not going to + cut my hair and wear a waistcoat and stand up for the equal rights of the + sexes, I feel at this moment that if I were only a man I should be the + happiest woman in the world, God bless me! Not that I am afraid of London, + not I indeed; and to show you how I long to take a header into its + turbulent tides, I hereby warn and apprize and notify you that perhaps I + may use my week's holiday to find a more congenial employment than that of + deputy White Owl at the hospital. I am not in my right place yet, Aunt + Anna, notwithstanding, so look out for revelations! 'To be or not to be? + that is the question.' Just say the word and I'll leave it to Providence, + which is always a convenient legatee, and in any case—but wait, only + wait and see what a week will bring forth! + </p> + <p> + “Greet the island for me to the inmost core of its being. The dear little + 'oilan!' Now that I am so far away, I go over it in my mind's eye with the + idiotic affection of a mother who knows every inch of her baby's body and + would like to gobble it. The leaves must be down by this time, and there + can be nothing on the bare boughs but the empty nests where the little + birdies used to woo and sing. My love to them and three tremendous kisses + for yourselves! + </p> + <p> + “Glory. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—Oh, haven't I given you the 'newses' about John Storm? There + are so many things to think about in a place like London, you see. Yes, he + has gone into a monastery—communication cut off—wires broken + down by the 'storm,' etc. Soberly, he has gone for good seemingly, and to + talk of it lightly is like picking a penny out of a blind man's hat. Of + course, it was only to be expected that a man with an upper lip like that + should come to grief with all those married old maids and elderly women of + the opposite sex. Canons to right of him, canons to left of him, canons in + front of him—but rumour says it was John himself who volleyed and + thundered. He wrote me a letter when he was on the point of going, saying + how London had shocked and disappointed him, and how he longed to escape + from it and from himself at the same time, that he might dedicate his life + to God. It was right and true, no doubt; but wherefore could not I + pronounce Amen? He also mentioned something about myself, how much I had + been to him; for he had never known his mother, and had never had a + sister, and could never have a wife. All which was excellent, but a mere + woman like Glory doesn't want to read that sort of thing in a letter, and + would rather have five minutes of John Storm the man than a whole eternity + of John Storm the saint. His letter made me think of Christian on his way + to the eternal city; but that person has always seemed to me a doubtful + sort of hero anyway, taking Mrs. Christian into account and the various + little Christians, and I can't pity him a pin about his bundle, for he + might just as well have left behind him what he couldn't enjoy of God's + providence himself. + </p> + <p> + “But this is like hitting a cripple with his crutch, John being gone and + past all defending himself, and when I think of it in the streets I have + to run to keep myself from doing something silly, and then people think + I'm chasing an omnibus, when I'm really only chasing my tears. I can't + tell you much about the Brotherhood. It looks like a cross between a + palace and a penitentiary, and it appears that ritualism has gone one + better than High-Churchmanship, and is trying to introduce the monastic + system, which, to an ordinary woman of the world, seems well enough for + the man in the moon, though the man in the moon might have a different way + of looking at things. They say the brothers are all celibates and live in + cells, but I think I've seen a look in John Storm's eyes that warns me + that he wasn't intended for 'the lek o' that' exactly. To tell you the + truth, I half blame myself for what has happened, and I am ashamed when I + remember how jauntily I took matters all the time our poor John was + fighting with beasts at Ephesus. But I am vexed with him too; and if only + he had waited patiently before taking such a serious step in order to hear + <i>my</i> arguments—— But no matter. A jackdaw isn't to be + called a religious bird because it keeps a-cawing on the steeple, and John + Storm won't make himself into a monk by shutting himself up in a cell. + Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. + </h2> + <p> + The house to which Glory had fled out of the fog was a little dingy + tobacconist's shop opening on a narrow alley that runs from Holborn into + Lincoln's-Inn Fields. It was kept by the baby farmer whom she had met at + the house of Polly Love, and the memory of the address thrust upon her + there had been her only resource on that day of crushing disappointment + and that night of peril. Mrs. Jupe's husband, a waiter at a West End club, + was a simple and helpless creature, very fond of his wife, much deceived + by her, and kept in ignorance of the darker side of her business + operations. Their daughter, familiarly called “Booboo,” a silent child + with cunning eyes and pasty cheeks, was being brought up to help in the + shop and to dodge the inspector of the school board. + </p> + <p> + On coming downstairs next morning to the close and dingy parlour at the + back, Glory had looked about her as one who had expected something she did + not see, whereupon Mrs. Jupe, who was at breakfast with her husband, threw + up her little twinkling eyes and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now I know what she's a-lookin' for; it's the byeby.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is it?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Gorn, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you don't mean——” + </p> + <p> + “No, not dead, but I 'ad to put it out, pore thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Ye see, miss,” said Mr. Jupe with his mouth full, “my missus couldn't + nurse the byeby and 'tend to the biziniss as well, so as reason was——” + </p> + <p> + “It brikes my 'eart to think it; but it made such a n'ise, pore darling!” + </p> + <p> + “Does the mother know?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “That wasn't necessary, my dear. It's gorn to a pusson I can trust to tyke + keer of it, and I'm trooly thenkful——” + </p> + <p> + “It jest amarnts to this, miss: the biziness is too much for the missus as + things is——” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't keer if my 'ealth was what it used to be, in the dyes when I + 'ad Booboo.” + </p> + <p> + “But it ain't, and she's often said as how she'd like a young laidy to + live with her and 'elp her with the shop.” + </p> + <p> + “A nice-lookin' girl might 'ave a-many chawnces in a place syme as this, + my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Lawd, yus; and when I seen the young laidy come in at the door, 'Strike + me lucky!' thinks I, 'the very one!'” + </p> + <p> + “Syme 'ere, my dear. I reckkernized ye the minute I seen ye; and if ye + want to leave the hospital and myke a stawt, as you were saying—last + night——” + </p> + <p> + Glory stopped them. They were on the wrong trace entirely. She had merely + come to lodge with them, and if that was not agreeable—— + </p> + <p> + “Well, and so ye shell, my dear; and if ye don't like the shop all at + onct, there's Booboo, she wants lessons——” + </p> + <p> + “But I can pay,” said Glory, and then she was compelled to say something + of her plans. She wanted to become a singer, perhaps an actress, and to + tell them the truth she might not be staying long, for when she got + engagements—— + </p> + <p> + “Jest as you like, my dear; myke yerself at 'ome. On'y don't be in a 'urry + about engygements. Good ones ain't tots picked up by the childring in the + streets these dyes.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless it was agreed that Glory was to lodge at the tobacconist's, + and Mr. Jupe was to bring her box from the hospital on coming home that + night from his work. She was to pay ten shillings a week, all told, so + that her money would last four or five weeks, and leave something to + spare. “But I shall be earning long before that,” she thought, and her + resources seemed boundless. She started on her enterprise instantly, + knowing no more of how to begin than that it would first be necessary to + find the office of an agent. Mr. Jupe remembered one such place. + </p> + <p> + “It's in a street off of Waterloo Road,” he said, “and the name on the + windows is Josephs.” + </p> + <p> + Glory found this person in a fur-lined coat and an opera hat, sitting in a + room which was papered with photographs, chiefly of the nude and the + semi-nude, intermingled with sheafs of playbills that hung from the walls + like ballads, from the board of the balladmonger. + </p> + <p> + “Vell, vot's yer line?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Glory answered nervously and indefinitely. + </p> + <p> + “Vot can you do then?” + </p> + <p> + She could sing and recite and imitate people. + </p> + <p> + The man shrugged his shoulders. “My terms are two guineas down and ten per + cent on salary.” + </p> + <p> + Glory rose to go. “That is impossible. I can not——” + </p> + <p> + “Vait a minute. How much have you got?” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't that my business, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Touchy, ain't ye, miss? But if you mean bizness, I'll tyke a guinea and + give you the first chawnce what comes in.” + </p> + <p> + Reluctantly, fearfully, distrustfully, Glory paid her guinea and left her + address. + </p> + <p> + “Daddle doo,” said the agent. + </p> + <p> + Then she found herself in the street. + </p> + <p> + “Two weeks less for lodgings,” she thought, as she returned to the + tobacconist's. But Mrs. Jupe seemed entirely satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell ye, my dear? Good engygements ain't chasing nobody abart + the streets these dyes, and there's that many girls now as can do a song + and a dance and a recitashing——” + </p> + <p> + Three days passed, four days, five days, six days, a week, and still no + word from Mr. Josephs. Glory called on him again. He counselled patience. + It was the dead season at the theatres and music halls, but if she only + waited—— + </p> + <p> + She waited a week longer and then called again, and again, and yet again. + But she brought nothing back except her mimicry of the man's manner. She + could hit him off to a hair—his raucous voice, his guttural + utterance, and the shrug of his shoulders that told of the Ghetto. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jupe shrieked with laughter. That lady's spirits were going up as + Glory's came down. At the end of the third week she said, “I can't abear + to tyke yer money no longer, my dear, you not doing nothink.” + </p> + <p> + Then she hinted at a new arrangement. She had to be much from home. It was + necessary; her health was poor—an obvious fiction. During her + absence she had to leave Booboo in charge. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't good for the child, my dear, and it ain't good for the shop; but + if anybody syme as yerself would tyke a turn behind the counter——” + </p> + <p> + Having less than ten shillings in her pocket, Glory was forced to submit. + </p> + <p> + There was a considerable traffic through the little turnstile. Lying + between Bedford Row and Lincoln's Inn, it was the usual course of lawyers + and lawyers' clerks passing to and fro from the courts. They were not long + in seeing that a fresh and beautiful face was behind the counter of the + dingy little tobacco-shop. Business increased, and Mrs. Jupe became + radiant. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell ye, my dear? There's more real gentlemen a-mooching rahnd + here in a day than a girl would have a chawnce of meeting in a awspital in + a twelvemonth.” + </p> + <p> + Glory's very soul was sickening. The attentions of the men, their easy + manners, their little liberties, their bows, their smiles, their + compliments—it was gall and wormwood to the girl's unbroken spirit. + Nevertheless she was conscious of a certain pleasure in the bitterness. + The bitterness was her own, the pleasure some one else's, so to speak, who + was looking on and laughing. She felt an unconquerable impulse to sharpen + her wit on Mrs. Jupe's customers, and even to imitate them to their faces. + They liked it, so she was good for business both ways. + </p> + <p> + But she remembered John Storm and felt suffocated with shame. Her thoughts + turned to him constantly, and she called at the hospital to ask if there + were any letters. There were two, but neither of them was from Bishopsgate + Street. One was from Aunt Anna. Glory was not to dream of leaving the + hospital. With tithes going down every year, and everything else going up, + how could she think of throwing away a salary and adding to their + anxieties? The other was from her grandfather: + </p> + <p> + “Glad to hear you have had a holiday, dear Glory, and trust you are + feeling the better for the change. Must confess to being a little startled + by the account of your adventure on Lord Mayor's Day, with the wild scheme + for cutting adrift from the hospital and taking London by storm. But it + was just like my little witch, my wandering gipsy, and I knew it was all + nonsense; so when Aunt Anna began to scold I took my pipe and went + upstairs. Sorry to hear that John Storm has gone over to Popery, for that + is what it comes to, though he is not under the Romish obedience. I am the + more concerned because I failed to make his peace with his father. The old + man seems to blame me for everything, and has even taken to passing me on + the road. Give my best respects to Mrs. Jupe, when you see her again, with + my thanks for taking care of you. And now that you are alone in that great + and wicked Babylon, take good care of yourself, my dear one. To know that + my runaway is well and happy and prosperous is all I have left to + reconcile me to her absence. Yes, the harvest is over and threshed and + housed, and we have fires in the parlour nearly every day, which makes + Anna severe sometimes, coals being so dear just now, and the turf no + longer allowed to us.” + </p> + <p> + It was ten days overdue. That night, in her little bedroom, with its low + ceiling and sloping floor, Glory wrote her answer: + </p> + <p> + “But it isn't nonsense, my dear grandfather, and I really have left the + hospital. I don't know if it was the holiday and the liberty or what, but + I felt like that young hawk at Glenfaba—do you remember it?—the + one that was partly snared and came dragging the trap on to the lawn by a + string caught round its leg. I had to cut it away, I had to, I had to! But + you mustn't feel one single moment's uneasiness about me. An able-bodied + woman like Glory Quayle doesn't starve in a place like London. Besides, I + am provided for already, so you see my bow abides in strength. The first + morning after my arrival Mrs. Jupe told me that if I cared to take to + myself the style and title of teacheress to her little Slyboots I had only + to say the word and I should be as welcome as the flowers in May. It isn't + exactly first fiddling, you know, and it doesn't bring an ambassador's + salary, but it may serve for the present, and give me time to look about. + You mustn't pay too much attention to my lamentations about being + compelled by Nature to wear a petticoat. Things being so arranged in this + world I'll make them do. But it does make one's head swim and one's wings + droop to see how hard Nature is on a woman compared to a man. Unless she + is a genius or a jelly-fish there seems to be only one career open to her, + and that is a lottery, with marriage for the prizes, and for the blanks—oh + dear, oh dear! Not that I have anything to complain of, and I hate to be + so sensitive. Life is wonderfully interesting, and the world is such an + amusing place that I've no patience with people who run away from it, and + if I were a man—but wait, only wait, good people!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. + </h2> + <p> + John Storm had made one other friend at Bishopsgate Street—the dog + of the monastery. It was a half-bred bloodhound, and nobody seemed to know + whence he came and why he was there. He was a huge, ungainly, and most + forbidding creature, and partly for that reason, but chiefly because it + was against rule to fix the affections on earthly things, the brothers + rarely caressed him. Unnoticed and unheeded, he slept in the house by day + and prowled through the court by night, and had hardly ever been known to + go out into the streets. He was the strictest monk in the monastery, for + he eyed every stranger as if he had been Satan himself, and howled at all + music except the singing in the church. + </p> + <p> + On seeing John for the first time, he broadened his big flews and + stiffened his thick stern, according to his wont with all intruders, but + in this instance the intruder was not afraid. John patted him on the + peaked head and rubbed him on the broad nose, then opened his mouth and + examined his teeth, and finally turned him on his back and tickled his + chest, and they were fast friends and comrades forever after. + </p> + <p> + Some weeks after the dedication they were in the courtyard together, and + the dog was pitching and plunging and uttering deep bays which echoed + between the walls like thunder at play. It was the hour of morning + recreation, between Terce and Sext, and the religious were lolling about + and talking, and one lay brother was sweeping up the leaves that had + fallen from the tree, for the winter had come and the branches were bare. + The lay brother was Brother Paul, and he made sidelong looks at John, but + kept his head down and went on with his work without speaking. One by one + the brothers went back to the house, and John made ready to follow them, + but Paul put himself in his way. He was thinner than before, and his eyes + were red and his respiration difficult. Nevertheless, he smiled in a + childlike way, and began to talk of the dog. What life there was in the + old creature still! and nobody had known, there was so much play in it. + </p> + <p> + “You are not feeling so well, are you?” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite so well,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “The day is cold, and this penance is too much for you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not that. I asked for it, you know, and I like it. It's + something else. To tell you the truth, I'm very foolish in some ways. When + I've got anything on my mind I'm always thinking. Day and night it's the + same with me, and even work——” + </p> + <p> + His breathing was audible, but he tried to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what it is this time? It's what you said on the roof on the + night of the vows, you remember. What you didn't say, I mean—and + that's just the trouble. It was wrong to talk of the world without great + necessity, but if you had been able to say 'Yes' when I asked if everybody + was well you would have done it, wouldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll not talk of that now,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “No, it would be the same fault as before. Still——” + </p> + <p> + “How keen the air is! And your asthma is so troublesome! You must really + let me speak to the Father.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's nothing. I'm used to it. But if you know yourself what it is + to be always thinking of anybody——” + </p> + <p> + John called to the dog, and it capered about him. “Good-morning, Brother + Paul.” And he went into the house. The lay brother leaned on his besom and + drew a long sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his chest. + </p> + <p> + John had hastened away, lest his voice should betray him. + </p> + <p> + “Awful!” he thought. “It must be awful to be always thinking of somebody, + and in fear of what has happened to her. Poor little Polly! She's not + worthy of it, but what does that matter? Blood is blood and love is love, + and only God is stronger.” + </p> + <p> + A few days afterward the air darkened and softened, and snow began to + fall. Between Vespers and Evensong John went up to the tower to see London + under its mantle of white. It was like an Eastern city now under an + Eastern moonlight, and he was listening to the shouts and laughter of + people snowballing in the streets when he heard a laboured step on the + stair behind him. It was Brother Paul coming up with a spade to shovel + away the snow. His features were pinched and contracted, and his young + face was looking old and worn. + </p> + <p> + “You really must not do it,” said John. “To work like this is not penance, + but suicide. I'll speak to the Father, and he'll——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't; for mercy's sake, don't! Have some pity, at all events! If you + only knew what a good thing work is for me—how it drives away + thoughts, and stifles——” + </p> + <p> + “But it's so useless, Brother Paul. Look! The snow is still falling, and + there's more to come yet.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same, it's good for me. When I'm very tired I can sleep + sometimes. And then God is good to you if you don't spare yourself. Some + day perhaps he'll tell me something.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll tell us everything in his own good time, Brother Paul.” + </p> + <p> + “It's easy to counsel patience. If I were like you I should be counting + the days until my time was over, and that would help me to bear things. + But when you are dedicated for life——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped at his work and looked over the parapet, and seemed to be + gazing into the weary days to come. + </p> + <p> + “Have you anybody of your own out there?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean any——” + </p> + <p> + “Any relative—any sister?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't know what it is; that's why you won't give me an answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me, Brother Paul.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “It might only make you the more uneasy if I told you what——” + </p> + <p> + The lay brother let his spade fall, then slowly, very slowly, picked it up + again and said: + </p> + <p> + “I understand. You needn't say any more. I shall never ask you again.” + </p> + <p> + The bell rang for Evensong, and John hurried away. “If it were only some + one who was deserving of it!” he thought—“some one who was worthy + that a man should risk his soul to save her!” + </p> + <p> + At supper and in church he saw Brother Paul going about like a man in a + waking dream, and when he went up to bed he heard him moving restlessly in + the adjoining cell. The fear of betraying himself was becoming unbearable, + and he leaped up and stepped out into the corridor, intending to ask the + Superior to give him another room elsewhere. But he stopped and came back. + “It's not brave,” he thought, “it's not kind, it's not human,” and, saying + this again and again, as one whistles when going by a haunted house, he + covered his ears and fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the night, while it was still quite dark, he was awakened + by a light on his face and the sense of some one looking down on him in + his sleep. With a shudder he opened his eyes and saw Brother Paul, candle + in hand, standing by the bed. His eyes were red and swollen, and when he + spoke his voice was full of tears. + </p> + <p> + “I know it's a fault to come into anybody else's cell,” he said, “but I + would rather do my penance than endure this torture. Something has + happened—I can see that quite well; but I don't know what it is, and + the suspense is killing me. The certainty would be easier to bear; and I + swear to you by Him who died for us that if you tell me I shall be + satisfied! Is she dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that,” said John by a sudden impulse, and then there was an awful + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Not dead!” said Paul. “Then would to God that she were dead, for it must + be something worse, a thousand times worse!” + </p> + <p> + John felt as if the secret had been stolen from him in his sleep; but it + was gone, and he could say nothing. Brother Paul's lips trembled, his + respiration quickened, and he turned away and smote his head against the + wall and sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it all the time,” he said. “Her sister went the same way, and I + could see that she was going too, and that was why I was so anxious. Oh, + my poor mother! my poor mother!” + </p> + <p> + For two days after that John saw no more of Brother Paul. “He is doing his + penance somewhere,” he thought. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the snow was still falling, and when the brothers went out to + Lauds at 6 A.M. they passed through a cutting of snow which was banked up + afresh every morning, though the day had not then dawned. On the third day + John was the first to go down to the hall, and there he met Brother Paul, + with his spade in his hands, coming out of the courtyard. He looked like a + man who was melting before a fire as surely as a piece of wax. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry now that I told you,” said John. + </p> + <p> + Brother Paul hung his head. + </p> + <p> + “It is easy to see that you are suffering more than ever; and it is all my + fault. I will go to the Father and confess.” + </p> + <p> + Between breakfast and Terce John carried out this intention. The Superior + was sitting before a handful of fire, in a little room that was darkened + by leather-bound books and by the flakes of snow which were falling across + the window panes. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said John, “I am a cause of offence to another brother, and it + is I who should be doing his penance.” And then he told how he had broken + the observance which forbids any one to talk of his relations with the + world without + </p> + <p> + The Father listened with great solemnity. + </p> + <p> + “My son,” he said, “your temptation is a testimony to the reality of the + religious life. Satan's rage against the home of consecrated souls is + terrible, and he would fain break in upon it if he could with worldly + thoughts and cares and passions. But we must conquer him by his own + weapons. Your penance, my son, shall be of the same kind with your + offence. Go to the door and take the place of the doorkeeper, and stay + there day and night until the end of the year. Thus shall the evil one be + made aware that you are the guardian of our house, to be tampered with no + more.” + </p> + <p> + Brother Andrew was troubled when John took his place at the door that + night, but John himself was unconcerned. He was doorkeeper to the + household, so he began on the duties of his menial position. As the + brothers passed in and out on their mission-errands he opened the door and + closed it. If any one knocked he answered, “Praise be to God!” then slid + back the little grating in the middle panel of the door and looked out at + the stranger. The hall was a chill place, with a stone floor, and he sat + on a form that stood against one of its walls. His bed was in an alcove + which had formerly been the cloak-room, and a card hung over it with the + inscription, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord.” He had no company + except big Brother Andrew, who stole down sometimes to cheer him with his + speechless presence, and the dog, which was always hanging about. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. + </h2> + <p> + It was at least some comfort to be out of the proximity of Brother Paul. + The sounds of the lay brother in the neighbouring cell had brought back + recollections of Glory, and he had more than he could do to conquer his + thoughts of her. Since he had taken his vows and had ceased to mention her + in his prayers she had been always with him, and his fears for her fate + had been pricked and goaded by the constant presence of Brother Paul's + anxieties. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, it was some loss that he could not go to the church, + and he remembered with a pang how happy he had been after a night of + terrors when he had gone into God's house in the morning and cast his + burden on him with one yearning cry of “God bless all women and young + children!” + </p> + <p> + It was now the Christmas season, and his heart tingled and thrilled as the + brothers passed through the door at midday and talked of the women who + attended the Christmas services. Were they really so calm as they seemed + to be, and had they conquered their natural affections? + </p> + <p> + Sometimes during the midday service he would slide back the grating and + listen for the women's voices. He heard one voice in all of them, but he + knew it was only a dream. Then he would watch the snow falling from the + little patch of dun-coloured sky crossed by bars, and tell himself that + that was all he was to see of the world henceforth. + </p> + <p> + The sky emptied itself at last, and Brother Paul came again to shovel away + the snow. He was weaker than ever, for the wax was melting away. When he + began to work, his chest was oppressed and his face was feverish. John + snatched the spade out of his hand and fell to doing his work instead of + him. + </p> + <p> + “I can't bear to see it, and I won't!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But the Father——?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care—you can tell him if you like. You are killing yourself + by inches, and you are a failing man any way.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I really dying?” said Brother Paul, and he staggered away like one who + had heard his sentence. + </p> + <p> + John looked after, him and thought: “Now what should I do if I were in + that man's place? If the case were Glory's, and I fixed here as in a + vice?” + </p> + <p> + He was ashamed when he thought of Glory like that, and he dismissed the + idea, but it came back with mechanical obstinacy and he was compelled to + consider it. His vows? Yes, it would be death to his soul to break them. + But if she were lost who had no one but him to look to—if she went + down to wreck and ruin, then the fires of hell would be as nothing to his + despair! + </p> + <p> + Brother Paul came to him next day and sat on the form by his side and + said: + </p> + <p> + “If I'm really dying, what am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “What would you like to do, Brother Paul?” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to go out and find her.” + </p> + <p> + “What good would there be in that?” + </p> + <p> + “I could say something that would stop her and put an end to everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure of it?” + </p> + <p> + A wild light came into his eyes and he answered, “Quite sure.” + </p> + <p> + John played the hypocrite and began to counsel patience. + </p> + <p> + “But a man can't live without hope and not go mad,” said Brother Paul. + </p> + <p> + “We must trust and pray,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “But God never answers us. If it were your own case what would you do? If + some one outside were lost——” + </p> + <p> + “I should go to the Father and say, 'Let me go in search of her.'” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it,” said Brother Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? The Father is kind and tender and he loves his children.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I <i>will</i> do it,” said Paul, and he made for the Father's room. + </p> + <p> + He got to the door of the cell and then came back again. “I can't,” he + said. “There's something you don't know. I can't look in his face and + ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay here and I'll ask for you,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you!” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + John made three hasty strides and then stopped. + </p> + <p> + “But if he will not——” + </p> + <p> + “Then—God's will be done!” + </p> + <p> + It was morning, and the Superior was reading in his room. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, my son,” he said, and he laid his book on his lap. “This is a + book you must read some day—the Inner Life of Père Lacordaire. Most + fascinating! An inner life of intolerable horror until he had conquered + his natural affections.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said John, “one of our lay brothers has a little sister in the + world and she has fallen into trouble. She has gone from the place where + he left her, and God only knows where she is now! Let him go out and find + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it, my son?” + </p> + <p> + “Brother Paul—and she is all he has, and he can not help but think + of her.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a temptation of the evil one, my son. Brother Paul has newly + taken the vows and so have you. The vows are a challenge to the powers of + evil, and it is only to be expected that he who takes them will be tested + to the uttermost.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Father, she is young and thoughtless. Let him go out and find her + and save her, and he will come back and praise God a thousand times the + more.” + </p> + <p> + “The temptations of Satan are very subtle; they come in the guise of duty. + Satan is tempting our brother through love, and you, also, through pity. + Let us turn our backs on him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is impossible?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite impossible.” + </p> + <p> + When John returned to the door Brother Paul was standing by the alcove + gazing with wet eyes on the text hanging above the bed. He saw his answer + in John's face, and they sat down on the form without speaking. + </p> + <p> + The bell rang for service and the religious began to pass through the + hall. As the Father was crossing the threshold Brother Paul flung himself + down at his feet and clutched his cassock and made a frantic appeal for + pity. + </p> + <p> + “Father, have pity upon me and let me go!” + </p> + <p> + The Father's eyes became moist but his will remained unshaken. “As a man I + ought to have pity,” he said, “and as the Father of all of you I should be + kind to my children; but it is not I who refuse you, it is God, and I + should be guilty of a sin if I let you go.” + </p> + <p> + Then Paul burst into mad laughter and the religious gathered round and + looked at him in astonishment. There was foam on his lips and fire in his + eyes, and he threw up his hands and fell back fainting. + </p> + <p> + The Father made the sign of the cross on his breast and his lips moved in + silence for a moment. Then he said to John, who had raised the lay brother + in his arms: + </p> + <p> + “Leave him there. Damp his forehead and hold his hands.” + </p> + <p> + And turning to the religious he added: “I ask the prayers of the community + for our poor brother. Satan is fighting for his soul. Let us wrestle in + prayer that we may expel the spirit that possesses him.” + </p> + <p> + At the next moment John was alone with the unconscious man, except for the + dog which was licking his forehead. And looking after the Superior, he + told himself that such unlimited power over the body and soul of another + the Almighty could have meant for no man. The love of God and the fear of + the devil had swallowed up the love of man and stifled all human + affections. Such religion must have hardened the best man ever born. As + for the poor broken creature lying there so still, his vows had been made + to heaven, and to heaven alone his obedience was due. The nature within + him had spoken too loudly, but there were laws of Nature which it was a + sin to resist. Then why should he resist them? The cry of blood was the + voice of God, or God had no voice and He could speak to no man. Then, why + should he not listen? + </p> + <p> + Brother Paul recovered consciousness and raised his head. The waves of + memory flowed back upon him and his eyes flamed and his lips trembled. + </p> + <p> + “I will go if I have to break my vows!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No need for that,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I will let you out at night and let you in again in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I. Listen!” + </p> + <p> + And then these two crushed and fettered souls, bound by no iron bonds, + confined by no bolts and bars, but only under the shadow of the + supernatural, sat together like prisoners in a dungeon concocting schemes + for their escape. + </p> + <p> + “The Father locks the outer gate himself,” said John. “Where does he keep + the key?” + </p> + <p> + “In his own room on a nail above his bed,” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Who is the lay brother attending to him now?” + </p> + <p> + “Brother Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “Brother Andrew will do anything for me,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “But the dog?” said Paul. “He is always in the court at night, and he + barks at the sound of a step.” + </p> + <p> + “Not my step,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it,” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + “I will send you to some one who can find your sister. You'll tell her you + come from me and she'll take you with her.” + </p> + <p> + They could hear the singing in the church, and they paused to listen. + </p> + <p> + “When I come back in the morning I'll confess everything and do my + penance,” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + “And I too,” said John. + </p> + <p> + The sun had come out with a sudden gleam and the thawing snow was dripping + from the trees in drops like diamonds. The singing ceased, the service + ended, and the brothers came back to the house. When the Father entered, + Paul was clothed and in his right mind and sitting quietly on the form. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God for this answer to our prayers!” said the Father. “But you must + pray without ceasing lest Satan should conquer you again. Until the end of + the year say your Rosary in the church every night alone from Compline to + midnight.” + </p> + <p> + Then turning to John he said with a smile: “And you shall be like the + anchoret of old to this household, my son. We monks pray by day, but the + anchoret prays by night. Unless we know that in the dark hours the + anchoret guards the house, who shall rest on his bed in peace?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. + </h2> + <p> + At the end of the fourth week, after Glory had paid her fee to the agent, + she called on him again. It was Saturday morning, and the vicinity of his + office was a strange and surprising scene. The staircase and passages to + the house, as well as the pavement of the streets far as to the + public-house at the corner, were thronged with a gaudy but shabby army of + music-hall artistes of both sexes. When Glory attempted to pass through + them she was stopped by a cry of, “Tyke yer turn on Treasury day, my + dear,” and she fell back and waited. + </p> + <p> + One by one they passed upstairs, came down again with cheerful faces, + shouted their adieus and disappeared. Meanwhile they amused themselves + with salutations, all more or less lively and familiar, told stories and + exchanged confidences, while they danced a step or stamped about to keep + away the cold. “You've chucked the slap [* Rouge.] on with a mop this + morning, my dear,” said one of the girls. “Have I, my love? Well, I was a + bit thick about the clear, so I thought it would keep me warm.” “It ain't + no use facing the doner of the casa with that,” said a man who jingled a + few coins as he came downstairs, and away went two to the public-house. + Sometimes a showy brougham would drive up to the door and a magnificent + person in a fur-lined coat, with diamond rings on both hands, would sweep + through the lines and go upstairs. When he came down again his carriage + door would be opened by half a dozen “pros” who would call him “dear old + cully” and tell him they were “down on their luck” and “hadn't done a turn + for a fortnight.” He would distribute shillings and half-crowns among + them, cry “Ta-ta, boys,” and drive away, whereupon his pensioners would + stroke their cuffs and collars of threadbare astrakhan, tip winks after + the carriage, and say, “That's better than crying cabbages in Covent + Garden, ain't it?” Then they would all laugh knowingly, and one would say, + “What's it to be, cully?” and somebody would answer, “Come along to + Poverty Point then,” and a batch of the waiting troop would trip off to + the corner. + </p> + <p> + One of the gorgeous kind was coming down the stairs when his eye fell on + Glory as she stood in a group of girls who were decked out in rose pink + and corresponding finery. He paused, turned back, reopened the office + door, and said in an audible whisper, “Who's the pretty young ginger + you've got here, Josephs?” A moment afterward the agent had come out and + called her upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “It's salary day, my dear—vait there,” he said, and he put her into + an inner room, which was tawdrily furnished in faded red plush, with piano + and coloured prints of ballet girls and boxing men, and was full of the + odour of stale tobacco and bad whisky. + </p> + <p> + She waited half an hour, feeling hot and ashamed and troubled with + perplexing thoughts, and listening to the jingle of money in the adjoining + room, mingled with the ripple of laughter and sometimes the exchange of + angry words. At length the agent came back, saying, “Vell, vat can I do + for you to-day, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + He had been drinking, his tone was familiar, and he placed himself on the + end of the sofa upon which Glory was seated. + </p> + <p> + Glory rose immediately. “I came to ask if you have heard of anything for + me,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Heard anything? Not yet, my dear. You must vait——” + </p> + <p> + “I think I've waited long enough, and if your promises amount to anything + you'll get me an appearance at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “So I vould, my dear. I vould get you an extra turn at the Vashington, but + it's very expensive, and you've got no money.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you take what I had if you can do nothing? Besides, I don't + want anything but what my talents can earn. Give me a letter to a manager—for + mercy's sake, do something for me!” + </p> + <p> + There was a shrug of the Ghetto as the man rose and said, “Very vell, if + it's like that, I'll give you a letter and velcome.” + </p> + <p> + He sat at a table and wrote a short note, sealed it carefully in an + envelope which was backed with advertisements, then gave it to Glory, and + said, “Daddle doo. You'll not require to come again.” + </p> + <p> + Going downstairs she looked at the letter. It was addressed to an acting + manager at a theatre in the farthest west of London. The passages of the + house and the pavements outside were now empty; it was nearly two o'clock, + and snow was beginning to fall. She was feeling cold and a little hungry, + but, making up her mind to deliver the letter at once, she hastened to the + Temple station. + </p> + <p> + There was a <i>matinée</i>, so the acting manager was “in front.” He took + the letter abruptly, opened it with an air of irritation, glanced at it, + glanced at Glory, looked at the letter again, and then said in a strangely + gentle voice, “Do you know what's in this, my girl?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you don't—look,” and he gave her the letter to read. It + ran: + </p> + <p> + “Dear ——: This wretched young ginger is worrying me for a + shop. She isn't worth a ——. Get rid of her, and oblige + Josephs.” + </p> + <p> + Glory flushed up to the forehead and bit her lip; then a little nervous + laugh broke from her throat, and two great tears came rolling from her + eyes. The acting manager took the letter out of her hands and tapped her + kindly on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, my child. Perhaps we'll disappoint him yet. Tell me all about + it.” + </p> + <p> + She told him everything, for he had bowels of compassion. “We can't put + you on at present,” he said, “but our saloon contractor wants a young lady + to give out programmes, and if that will do to begin with——” + </p> + <p> + It was a crushing disappointment, but she was helpless. The employment was + menial, but it would take her out of the tobacco shop and put her into the + atmosphere of the theatre, and bring fifteen shillings a week as well. She + might begin on Monday if she could find her black dress, white apron, cap, + and cuffs. The dress she had already, but the apron, cap, and cuffs would + take the larger part of the money she had left. + </p> + <p> + By Sunday night she had swallowed her pride with one great gulp and was + writing home to Aunt Anna: + </p> + <p> + “I'm as busy as Trap's wife these days; indeed, that goddess of industry + is nothing to me now; but Christmas is coming, and I shall want to buy a + present for grandfather (and perhaps for the aunties as well), so please + send me a line in secret saying what he is wanting most. Snow! snow! snow! + The snow it snoweth every day.” + </p> + <p> + On the Monday night she presented herself at the theatre and was handed + over to another girl to be instructed in her duties. The house was one of + the best in London, and Glory found pleasure in seeing the audience + assemble. For the first half hour the gorgeous gowns, the beautiful faces, + and the distinguished manners excited her and made her forget herself. + Then little by little there came the pain of it all, and by the time the + curtain had gone up her gorge was rising, and she crept out into the quiet + corridor where her colleague was seated already under an electric lamp + reading a penny number. + </p> + <p> + The girl was a little, tender black and white thing, looking like a + dahlia. In a quarter of an hour Glory knew all about her. During the day + she served in a shop in the Whitechapel Road. Her name was Agatha Jones—they + called her Aggie. Her people lived in Bethnal Green, but Charlie always + came to the theatre to take her home. Charlie was her young man. + </p> + <p> + In the intervals between the acts Glory assisted in the cloak-room, and + there the great ladies began to be very amusing. After the tinkle of the + electric bell announcing the second act she returned to the deserted + corridor, and before her audience of one gave ridiculous imitations in + dead silence of ladies using the puff and twiddling up their front hair. + </p> + <p> + “My! It's you as oughter be on the styge, my dear,” said Aggie. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going on myself soon. Charlie's getting me on the clubs.” + </p> + <p> + “The clubs?” + </p> + <p> + “The foreign clubs in Soho. More nor one has begun there.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “The foreigners like dancing best. If you can do the splits and shoulder + the leg it's the mykings of you for life.” + </p> + <p> + When the performance was over they found Charlie waiting on the square in + front of the house. Glory had seen him before, and she recognised him + immediately. He was the young Cockney with the rolled fringe who had + bantered the policeman by Palace Yard on Lord Mayor's Day. They got into + the Underground together, and when Glory returned to the subject of the + foreign clubs Charlie grew animated and eloquent. + </p> + <p> + “They give ye five shillings a turn, and if yer good for anythink ye may + do six turns of a Sunday night, not ter speak of special nights, and + friendly leads and sech.” + </p> + <p> + When Glory got out at the Temple Aggie's head was resting on Charlie's + shoulder, and her little gloved fingers were lightly clasped in his hand. + </p> + <p> + On the second night Glory had conquered a good deal of her pride. The + grace of her humour was saving her. It was almost as if somebody else was + doing servant's duty and she was looking on and laughing. After all it was + very funny that she should be there, and what delicious thoughts it would + bring later! Even Nell Gwynne sold oranges in the pit at first, and then + some day when she had risen above all this—— + </p> + <p> + It must have been a great night of some sort. She had noticed red baize + and an awning outside, and the front of one of the boxes was laden with + flowers. When its occupants entered, the orchestra played the national + anthem and the audience rose to their feet. It was the Prince with the + Princess and their daughters. The audience was only less distinguished, + and something far off and elusive moved in her memory when a lady handed + her a check and said in a sweet voice: + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman will come for this seat.” + </p> + <p> + Glory's station was in the stalls, and she did not go out when the lights + went down and the curtain rose. The play was a modern one—the story + of a country girl who returned home after a life of bitterness and shame. + </p> + <p> + It moved her and thrilled her, and stirred the smouldering fires of her + ambition. She was sorry for the actress who played the part—the poor + thing did not understand—and she would have given worlds to pour her + own voice through the girl's mouth. Then she was conscious that she was + making a noise with her hands, and looking down at them she saw the + crumpled programmes and her white cuffs, and remembered where she was, and + what, and she murmured, “O God, do not punish me for these vain thoughts!” + </p> + <p> + All at once a light shot across her face as she stood in the darkness. The + door of the corridor had been opened, and a gentleman was coming in. He + stood a moment beside her with his eyes on the stage and said in a + whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Did a lady leave a seat?” + </p> + <p> + It was Drake! She felt as if she would suffocate, but answered in a + strained voice: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that one. Programme, please.” + </p> + <p> + He took the programme without looking at her, put his fingers into his + waistcoat pocket, and slid something into her hand. It was sixpence. + </p> + <p> + She could have screamed. The humiliation was too abject. Hurrying out, she + threw down her papers, put on her cloak and hat and fled. + </p> + <p> + But next morning she laughed at herself, and when she took out Drake's + sixpence she laughed again. With the poker and a nail she drove a hole + through the coin and then hung it up by a string to a hook over the + mantelpiece, and laughed (and cried a little) every time she looked at it. + Life was so funny! Why did people bury themselves before they were dead? + She wouldn't do it for worlds! But she did not go back to the theatre for + all that, and neither did she return to the counter. + </p> + <p> + Christmas was near, the shops became bright and gay, and she remembered + what beautiful presents she had meant to send home out of the money she + had hoped to earn. On Christmas Eve the streets were thronged with little + family groups out shopping, and there were many amusing sights. Then she + laughed a good deal; she could not keep from laughing. + </p> + <p> + Christmas Day opened with a rimy, hazy morning, and the business + thoroughfares were deserted. They had sucking pig for dinner, and Mr. + Jupe, who was at home for the holiday, behaved like a great boy. It was + afternoon before the postman arrived with a bag as big as a creel, and + full of Christmas cards and parcels. There was a letter for Glory. It was + from Aunt Anna. + </p> + <p> + “We are concerned about the serious step you have taken, but trust it is + for the best, and that you will give Mrs. Jupe every satisfaction. Don't + waste your savings on us. Remember there are post-office savings banks + everywhere, and that there is no friend like a little money.” + </p> + <p> + At the bottom there was a footnote from Aunt Rachel: “Do you ever see the + Queen in London, and the dear Prince and Princess?” + </p> + <p> + She went to service that night at St. Paul's Cathedral. Entering by the + west door, a verger in a black cloak directed her to a seat in the nave. + The great place was dark and chill and half empty. All the singing seemed + to come from some unseen region far away, and when the preacher got into + the curious pulpit he looked like a Jack-in-the-box, and it seemed to be a + drum that was speaking. + </p> + <p> + Coming out before the end, she thought she would walk to the Whitechapel + Road, of which Aggie had told her something. She did so, going by + Bishopsgate Street, but turning her head away as she passed the church of + the Brotherhood. The motley crowd of Polish Jews, Germans, and Chinamen, + in the most interesting street in Europe, amused her for a while, and then + she walked up Houndsditch and passed through Bishopsgate Street again. + </p> + <p> + At the Bank she took an omnibus for home. The only other fare was a + bouncing girl in a big hat with feathers. + </p> + <p> + “Going to the market, my dear? No? I hates it myself, too, so I goes to + the 'alls instead. Come from the country, don't ye? Same here. Father's a + farmer, but he's got sixteen besides me, so I won't be missed. Live? I + live at Mother Nan's dress-house now. Nice gloves, ain't they? My hat? + Glad you like the style. I generally get a new hat once a week, and as for + gloves, if anybody likes me——” + </p> + <p> + That night in her musty bedroom Glory wrote home while little Slyboots + slept: “'The best-laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft aglee.' Witness + me! + </p> + <p> + “I intended to send you some Christmas presents, but the snow has been so + industrious that not a mouse has stirred if he could help it. However, I + send three big kisses instead, and a pair of mittens for grandfather—worked + with my own hands, because I wouldn't allow any good Brownie to do it for + me. Tell Aunt Rachel I <i>do</i> see the Prince and Princess sometimes. I + saw them at the theatre the other night. Yes, the theatre! You must not be + shocked—we are rather gay in London—we go to the theatre + occasionally. It is so interesting to meet all the great people! You see I + am fairly launched in fashionable society, but I love everybody just the + same as ever, and the moment the candle is out I shall be thinking of + Glenfaba and seeing the 'Waits,' and 'Oiel Verree,' and 'Hunting the + Wren,' and grandfather smoking his pipe in the study by the light of the + fire, and Sir Thomas Traddles, the tailless, purring and blinking at his + feet. Merry Christmas to you, my dears! By-bye.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. + </h2> + <p> + “'Where's that bright young Irish laidy?' the gentlemen's allwiz sayin', + my dear,” said Mrs. Jupe, and for very shame's sake, having no money to + pay for board and lodgings, Glory returned to the counter. + </p> + <p> + A little beyond Bedford Row, in a rookery of apartment houses in narrow + streets, there lives a colony of ballet girls and chorus girls who are + employed at the lighter theatres of the Strand. They are a noisy, merry, + reckless, harmless race, free of speech, fond of laughter, wearing false + jewellery, false hair, and false complexions, but good boots always, which + they do their utmost not to conceal. + </p> + <p> + Many of these girls pass through the Turnstile on their way to their work, + and toward seven in the evening the tobacconist's would be full of them. + Nearly all smoked, as the stained forefinger of their right hands showed, + and while they bought their cigarettes they chirruped and chirped until + the little shop was like a tree full of linnets in the spring. + </p> + <p> + Most of them belonged to the Frailty Theatre, and their usual talk was of + the “stars” engaged there. Chief among these were the “Sisters Bellman,” a + trio of singers in burlesque, and a frequent subject of innuendo and + rapartee was one Betty, of that ilk, whose name Glory could remember to + have seen blazing in gold on nearly every hoarding and sign. + </p> + <p> + “Says she was a governess in the country, my dear.” “Oh, yus, I dare say. + Came out of a slop shop in the Mile End Road though, and learned 'er steps + with the organ man in the court a-back of the jam factory.” “Well, I + never! She's a wide un, she is!” “About as wide as Broad Street, my dear. + Use ter sell flowers in Piccadilly Circus till somebody spoke to 'er, and + now she rides 'er brougham, doncher know.” Then the laughter would be + general, and the girls would go off with their arms about each other's + waists, and singing, in the street substitute for the stage whisper, “And + 'er golden 'air was 'anging dahn 'er back!” + </p> + <p> + This yellow-haired and yellow-fingered sisterhood saw the game of life + pretty clearly, and it did not take them long to get abreast of Glory. + “Like this life, my dear?” “Go on! Do she look as if she liked it?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I do, perhaps I don't,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Tell that to the marines, my dear. I use ter be in a shop myself, but I + couldn't a-bear it. Give me my liberty, I say; and if a girl's got any + sort o' figure——Unnerstand, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + Late that night one of the girls came in breathless and cried: “Hooraa! + What d'ye think? Betty wants a dresser, and I've got the shop for ye, my + dear. Guinea a week and the pickings; and you go tomorrow night on trial. + By-bye!” + </p> + <p> + Glory's old infirmity came back upon her, and she felt hot and humiliated. + But her vanity was not so much wounded by the work that she was offered as + her honour was hurt by the work she was doing. Mrs. Jupe's absences from + home were now more frequent than ever. If the business that took her + abroad was akin to that which had taken her to Polly Love—— + </p> + <p> + To put an end to her uneasiness, Glory presented herself at the stage + door. + </p> + <p> + “You the noo dresser, miss?” said the doorkeeper. “Collins has orders to + look after you.—Collins!” + </p> + <p> + A scraggy, ugly, untidy woman who was passing—through an inner door + looked back and listened. + </p> + <p> + “Come along of me then,” she said, and Glory followed her, first down a + dark passage, then through a dusty avenue between stacks of scenery, then + across the open stage, up a flight of stairs, and into a room of moderate + size which had no window and no ventilation and contained three cheval + glasses, a couch, four cane-bottom chairs, three small toilet tables with + gas jets suspended over them, three large trunks, some boxes of + cigarettes, and a number of empty champagne bottles. Here there was + another woman as scraggy and untidy as the first, who bobbed her head at + Glory and then went on with her work, which was that of taking gorgeous + dresses out of one of the trunks and laying them on the end of the couch. + </p> + <p> + “She told me to show you her first act,” said the woman called Collins, + and, throwing open another of the trunks, she indicated some of the + costumes contained in it. + </p> + <p> + It was a new world to Glory, and there was something tingling and + electrical in the atmosphere about her. There were the shouts and curses + of the scene-shifters on the stage, the laughing voices of the chorus + girls going by the door, and all the multitudinous noises of the theatre + before the curtain rises. Presently there was a rustle of silk, and two + young ladies came bouncing into the room. One was tall and pink and white, + like a scarlet runner, the other was little and dainty. They stared at + Glory, and she was compelled to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Bellman, I presume?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye mean Betty, down't ye?” said the tall lady, and at that moment Betty + herself arrived. She was a plump person with a kind of vulgar comeliness, + and Glory had a vague sense of having seen her before somewhere. + </p> + <p> + “So ye've came,” she said, and she took possession of Glory straightway. + “Help me off of my sealskin.” + </p> + <p> + Glory did so. The others were similarly disrobed, and in a few moments + their three ladyships were busy before the toilet tables with their grease + and rose-pink and black pencils. + </p> + <p> + Glory was taking down the hair of her stout ladyship, and her stout + ladyship was looking at Glory in the glass. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bad face, girls, eh?” + </p> + <p> + The other two glanced at Glory approvingly. “Not bad,” they answered, and + then hummed or whistled as they went on with their making-up. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, <i>thank</i> you,” said Glory, with a low courtesy, and everybody + laughed. It was really very amusing. Suddenly it ceased to be so. + </p> + <p> + “And what's it's nyme, my dear?” said the little lady. + </p> + <p> + A sort of shame at using in this company the name that was sacred to home, + to the old parson, and to John Storm, came creeping over Glory like a + goosing of the flesh, and by the inspiration of a sudden memory she + answered, “Gloria.” + </p> + <p> + The little lady paused with the black pencil at her eyebrows, and said: + </p> + <p> + “My! What a nyme for the top line of a bill!” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh! Mykes me feel like Sundays, though,” said the tall lady with a + shudder. + </p> + <p> + “Irish, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Something of that sort,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Brought up a laidy, I'll be bound?” + </p> + <p> + “My father was a clergyman,” said Glory, “but——” + </p> + <p> + A sudden peal of laughter stopped her, whereupon she threw up her head, + and her eyes flashed: but her stout ladyship patted her hands and said: + </p> + <p> + “No offence, Glo, but you re'lly mustn't—they're all clergymen's + daughters, doncher know?” + </p> + <p> + A sharp knock came to the door, followed by the first call of the + call-boy. “Half-hour, ladies.” Then there was much bustle and some + irritation in the dressing-room and the tuning up of the orchestra + outside. The knock came again. “Curtain up, please.” The door was thrown + open, the three ladies swept out—the tall one in tights, the little + one in a serpentine skirt, the plump one in some fancy costume—and + Glory was left to gather up the fragments, to listen to the orchestra, + which was now in full power, to think of it all and to laugh. + </p> + <p> + The ladies returned to the dressing-room again and again in the coarse of + the performance, and when not occupied with the changing of their dresses + they amused themselves variously. Sometimes they smoked cigarettes, + sometimes sent Collins for brandy and soda, sometimes talked of their + friends in front: 'Lord Johnny's 'ere again. See 'im in the prompt box? + It's 'is sixtieth night this piece, and there's only been sixty-nine of + the run—and sometimes they discussed the audience generally: “Don't + know what's a-matter with 'em to-night; ye may work yer eyes out and ye + can't get a 'and.” + </p> + <p> + The curtain came down at length, the outdoor costumes were resumed, the + call-boy cried “Carriages, please,” the ladies answered “Right ye are, + Tommy,” her plump ladyship nodded to Glory, “You'll do middling, my dear, + when ye get yer 'and in”; and then nothing was left but the dark stage, + the blank house, and the “Good-night, miss,” of the porter at the stage + door. + </p> + <p> + So these were favourites of the footlights! And Glory Quayle was dressing + and undressing them and preparing them for the stage! Next morning, before + rising, Glory tried to think it out. Were they so very beautiful? Glory + stretched up in bed to look at herself in the glass, and lay down again + with a smile. Were they so much cleverer than other people? It was + foolishness to think of it, for they were as empty as a drum. There must + be some explanation if a girl could only find it out. + </p> + <p> + The second night at the theatre passed much like the first, except that + the ladies were visited between the acts by a group of fellow-artistes + from another company, and then the free-and-easy manners of familiar + intercourse gave way to a style that was most circumspect and precise, + and, after the fashion of great ladies, they talked together of morning + calls and leaving cards and five-o'clock tea. + </p> + <p> + There was a scene in the performance in which the three girls sang + together, and Glory crept out to the head of the stairs to listen. When + she returned to the dressing-room her heart was bounding, and her eyes, as + she saw them in the glass, seemed to be leaping out of her head. It was + ridiculous! To think of all that fame, all that fuss about voices like + those, about singing like that, while she—if she could only get a + hearing! + </p> + <p> + But the cloud had chased the sunshine from her face in a moment, and she + was murmuring again, “O God, do not punish a vain, presumptuous creature!” + </p> + <p> + All the same she felt happy and joyous, and on the third night she was + down at the theatre earlier than the other dressers, and was singing to + herself as she laid out the costumes, for her heart was beginning to be + light. Suddenly she became aware of some one standing at the open door. It + was an elderly man, with a bald head and an owlish face. He was the stage + manager; his name was Sefton. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, my girl,” he said. “If you've got a voice like that, why don't you + let somebody hear it?” + </p> + <p> + Her plump ladyship arrived late that night, and her companions were + dressed and waiting when she swept into the room like a bat with + outstretched wings, crying: “Out o' the wy! Betty Bellman's coming! She's + lyte.” + </p> + <p> + There were numerous little carpings, backbitings, and hypocrisies during + the evening, and they reached a climax when Betty said, “Lord Bobbie is + coming to-night, my dear.” “Not if <i>I</i> know it, my love,” said the + tall lady. “We are goin' to supper at the Nell Gwynne Club, dearest.” + “Surprised at ye, my darling.” “<i>You</i> are a nice one to preach, my + pet!” + </p> + <p> + After that encounter two of their ladyships, who were kissing and hugging + on the stage, were no longer on speaking terms in the dressing-room, and + as soon as might be after the curtain had fallen, the tall lady and the + little one swept out of the place with mysterious asides about a “friend + being a friend,” and “not staying there to see nothing done shabby.” + </p> + <p> + “If she don't like she needn't, my dear,” said the boycotted one, and then + she dismissed Glory for the night with a message to the friend who would + be waiting on the stage. + </p> + <p> + The atmosphere of the dressing-room had become oppressive and stifling + that night, and, notwithstanding the exaltation of her spirits since the + stage manager had spoken to her, Glory was sick and ashamed. The fires of + her ambition were struggling to burn under the drenching showers that had + fallen upon her modesty, and she felt confused and compromised. + </p> + <p> + As she stepped down the stairs the curtain was drawn up, the auditorium + was a void, the stage dark, save for a single gas jet that burned at the + prompter's wing, and a gentleman in evening dress was walking to and fro + by the extinguished footlights. She was about to step up to the man when + she recognised him, and turning on her heel she hurried away. It was Lord + Robert Ure, and the memory that had troubled her at the first sight of + Betty was of the woman who had ridden with Polly Love on the day of the + Lord Mayor's show. + </p> + <p> + Feeling hot and foolish and afraid, she was scurrying through the dark + passages when some one called her. It was the stage manager. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to hear your voice again, my dear. Come down at eleven in + the morning, sharp. The leader of the orchestra will be here to play.” + </p> + <p> + She made some confused answer of assent, and then found herself in the + back seat, panting audibly and taking long breaths of the cold night air. + She was dizzy and was feeling, as she had never felt before, that she + wanted some one to lean upon. If anybody had said to her at that moment, + “Come out of the atmosphere of that hot-bed, my child, it is full of + danger and the germs of death,” she would have left everything behind her + and followed him, whatever the cost or sacrifice. But she had no one, and + the pain of her yearning and the misery of her shame were choking her. + </p> + <p> + Before going home she walked over to the hospital; but no, there was still + no letter from John Storm. There was one from Drake, many days overdue: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Glory: Hearing that you call for your letters, I write to ask if you + will not let me know where you are and how the world is using you. Since + the day we parted in St. James's Park I have often spoken of you to my + friend Miss Macquarrie, and I am angry with myself when I remember what + remarkable talents you have, and that they are only waiting for the right + use to be made of them. + </p> + <p> + “Yours most kindly, + </p> + <p> + “F. H. N. Drake.” + </p> + <p> + “Many thanks, good Late-i'-th'-day,” she thought, and she was crushing the + latter in her hand when she saw there was a postscript: + </p> + <p> + “P. S.—This being the Christmas season, I have given myself the + pleasure of sending a parcel of Yuletide goodies to your dear old + grandfather and his sweet and simple household; but as they have doubtless + long forgotten me, and I do not wish to embarrass them with, unnecessary + obligations, I will ask you not to help them to the identification of its + source.” + </p> + <p> + She straightened out the letter and folded it, put it in her pocket and + returned home. Another letter was waiting for her there. It was from the + parson: + </p> + <p> + “So you sent us a Christmas-box after all! That was just like my runaway, + all innocent acting and make-believe. What joy we had of it!—Rachel + and myself, I mean, for we had to carry on the fiction that Aunt Anna knew + nothing about it, she being vexed at the thought of our spendthrift + spending so much money. Chalse brought it into the parlour while Anna was + upstairs, and it might have been the ark going up to Jerusalem it entered + in such solemn stillness. Oh, dear! oh, dear! The bun-loaf, and the + almonds, and the cheese, and the turkey, and the pound of tobacco, and the + mull of snuff! On account of Anna everything had to be conducted in great + quietness, but it was a terrible leaky sort of silence, I fear, and there + were hot and hissing whispers. God bless you for your thought and care of + us! Coming so timely, it is like my dear one herself, a gift that cometh + from the Lord; and when people ask me if I am not afraid that my + granddaughter should be all alone in that great and wicked Babylon, I tell + them: 'No; you don't know my Glory; she is all courage and nerve and + power, a perfect bow of steel, quivering with sympathy and strength.'” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. + </h2> + <p> + Christmas had come and gone at the Brotherhood, and yet the project was + unfulfilled. John himself had delayed its fulfilment from one trivial + cause after another. The night was too dark or not dark enough; the moon + shone or was not shining. His real obstacle was his superstitious fear. + The scheme was very easy of execution, and the Father himself had made it + so. This, and the Father's trust in him, had almost wrecked the + enterprise. Only his own secret anxieties, which were interpreted to his + consciousness by the sight of Brother Paul's wasting face, sufficed to + sustain his purpose. + </p> + <p> + “The man's dying. It can not be unpleasing to God.” + </p> + <p> + He said this to himself again and again, as one presses the pain in one's + side to make sure it is still there. Under the shadow of the crisis his + character was going to ruin. He grew cunning and hypocritical, and could + do nothing that was not false in reality or appearance. When the Father + passed him he would drop his head, and it was taken for contrition, and he + was commended for humility. + </p> + <p> + It was now the last day of the year, and therefore the last of his duty at + the door. + </p> + <p> + “It must be to-night,” he whispered, as Paul passed him. + </p> + <p> + Paul nodded. Since the plan of escape had been projected he had lost all + will of his own and become passive and inert. + </p> + <p> + How the day lingered! And when the night came it dragged along with feet + of lead! It seemed as if the hour of evening recreation would never end. + Certain of the brothers who had been away on preaching missions throughout + the country had returned for the Feast of the Circumcision, and the house + was bright with fresh faces and cheerful voices. John thought he had never + before heard so much laughter in the monastery. + </p> + <p> + But the bell rang for Compline, and the brothers passed into church. It + was a cold night, the snow was trodden hard, and the wind was rising. The + service ended, and the brothers returned to the house with clasped hands + and passed up to their cells in silence, leaving Brother Paul at his + penance in the church. + </p> + <p> + Finally the Father put up his hood and went out to lock the gate, and the + dog, who took this for his signal, shambled up and followed him. When he + returned he shuddered and shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “A bitter night, my son,” he said. “It's like courting death to go out in + it. Heaven help all homeless wanderers on a night like this!” + </p> + <p> + He was wiping the snow from his slippers. + </p> + <p> + “So this is the last day of your penance, Brother Storm, and to-morrow + morning you will join us in the community room. You have done well; you + have fought a good fight and resisted the assaults of Satan. Good-night to + you, my son, and God bless you!” + </p> + <p> + He took a few steps forward and then stopped. “By the way, I promised you + the Life of Père Lacordaire, and you might come to my room and fetch it.” + </p> + <p> + The Father's room was on the ground floor to the left of the staircase, + and it was entered from a corridor which cut the house across the middle. + The rooms that opened out of this corridor to the front looked on the + courtyard, and those to the back looked across the City in the direction + of the Thames. The Father's room opened to the back. It was as bare of + ornament as any of the cells, but it had a small fire, and a writing-table + on which a lamp was burning. + </p> + <p> + As they entered the room together the Father hung the key of the gate on + one of many hooks above the bed. It was the third hook from the end + nearest the window, and the key was an old one with very few wards. John + watched all this, and even observed that there were books on the floor, + and that a man might stumble if he did not walk warily. The Father picked + up one of them. + </p> + <p> + “This is the book, my son. A most precious document, the very mirror of a + living human soul. What touched me most, perhaps, were the Father's + references to his mother. A monk may not have his mother to himself, and + if the love of woman is much to him he is miserable indeed until he has + fixed his eyes on the most blessed among women. But the religious life + does not destroy natural affection. It only kills in order to bring forth + new life. The corn of wheat dies that it may live again. That is the true + Christian asceticism, my son, and so it is with our vows. Goodnight!” + </p> + <p> + As John was coming out of the Father's room, he met Brother Andrew going + into it, with clean linen over one arm and a ewer of water in the other + hand. He threw on his bed in the alcove the book which the Father had + given him, and sat down on the form at the door and tried to strengthen + himself in his purpose. + </p> + <p> + “The man is dying for the sight of his sister. He can save her soul if he + can only see her. It can not be displeasing to the Almighty.” + </p> + <p> + When he lifted his head the house was silent, except for the wind that + whistled outside its walls. Presently there was a scarcely perceptible + click, as of a door closing, and Brother Andrew came from the direction of + the Superior's room. John called to him and he stepped up on tip-toe, for + the monk hates noise as an evil spirit. The sprawling features of the big + fellow were all smiles. + </p> + <p> + “Has the Father gone to bed?” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Just gone?” + </p> + <p> + “No; half an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he will be asleep by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “He was asleep before I left him.” + </p> + <p> + “So he doesn't lock his door on the inside?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never.” + </p> + <p> + “Does the Father sleep soundly?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes he does, and sometimes a cat would waken him.” + </p> + <p> + “Brother Andrew——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you do something for me if I wanted, it very much?” + </p> + <p> + “You know I would.” + </p> + <p> + “Even if you had to run some risk?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not afraid of that” + </p> + <p> + “And if I got you into trouble, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “But you wouldn't. <i>You</i> wouldn't get anybody into trouble.” + </p> + <p> + John could go no further. The implicit trust in the simple face was too + much for him. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said Brother Andrew. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing—nothing at all,” said John. “I was only trying you, but + you are too good to be tempted, and I am ashamed. You must go to bed now.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I put out the lights for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not ready yet. Ugh! what a cruel wind! A cold night for Brother + Paul in the church.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Brother Storm, what is the matter with Brother Paul? He makes me + think of my mother, I don't know why.” + </p> + <p> + John made no answer, and the lay brother began to go upstairs. Two steps + up he stopped and whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Won't you let me do something for you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night, Brother Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Brother Storm.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, my lad.” + </p> + <p> + John listened to his footsteps until they stopped far overhead, and then + all was quiet. Only the whistling of the wind broke the stillness of the + peaceful house. He slid back the grating and looked out. All was darkness + except for the tiny gleam of coloured light that came from the church, + where Brother Paul sat to say his Rosary. + </p> + <p> + This fortified his courage, and he got up to put out the lamps in the + staircase and corridors. He began at the top, and as he came down he + listened on every landing and looked carefully around. There was no sound + anywhere except the light fall of his own deadened footstep. His + superstitious fears came back upon him, and his restless conscience + created terrors. The old London mansion, with its mystic cells, seemed + full of strange shadows, and the wind howled around it like a fiend. One + by one he extinguished the lamps. The last of them hung in the hall under + the picture of Christ in his crown of thorns. As he put it out he thought + the eyes looked at him, and he shuddered. + </p> + <p> + It was now half-past ten, and time to carry out his project. The back of + his neck was aching and his breath was coming quick. With noiseless steps + he walked to the door of the Father's room and listened again. Hearing + nothing, he opened the door wide and stepped into the room. + </p> + <p> + The fire was slumbering out, but it cast a faint red glow on the ceiling + and on the bed. A soft light rested on the Father's face, and he was + sleeping peacefully. There was no sound except the wind in the chimney and + a whistle sounding from a steamer in the river. + </p> + <p> + To reach the key, where it hung above the bed, it was necessary to step + between the fire and the sleeping man. As John did so his black shadow + fell on the Father's face. He stretched out his hand for the key and found + that a bunch of other keys were now hanging over it. When he removed them + they jingled slightly, and then his heart stood still, but the Father did + not stir, and he took the key of the gate off the hook, put the other keys + back in their place, and turned to go. + </p> + <p> + The dog began to howl—somebody was playing music in the street—and + the open door made the wind to roar in the chimney. The Father sighed, and + John stood with a quivering heart and looked over his shoulder. But it was + only a deep human sigh uttered in sleep. + </p> + <p> + At the next moment John had returned to the corridor and closed the door + behind him. His throat was parched, his eyelids were twitching, and his + temples were beating like drums. He went gliding along like a thief, and + as he passed the picture of Christ in the darkness the wind seemed to be + crying “Judas!” + </p> + <p> + Back in the hall he dropped on to the form, for his knees could support + him no longer. Love and conscience, humanity and religion clamoured loud + in his heart and tore him in pieces. “Traitor!” cried one. “But the man's + dying!” cried another. “Judas!” “She is hovering on the brink of hell and + he may save her soul from death and damnation!” When the struggle was + over, conscience and religion were worsted, and he was more cunning than + before. + </p> + <p> + Then the clock chimed the three quarters, and he raised his head. The + streets, usually so quiet at that hour, were becoming noisy with traffic. + There were the shuffling of many feet on the hard snow and the sharp crack + of voices. + </p> + <p> + He opened the great door of the house with as little noise as possible and + stepped out into the courtyard. The bloodhound started from its quarters + and began to growl, but he silenced it with a word, and the creature came + up and licked his hand. He crossed the court with quick and noiseless + footsteps, lifted the latch of the sacristy and pushed through into the + church. + </p> + <p> + There was a low, droning sound in the empty place. It ran a space and was + then sucked in like the sound of the sea at the harbour steps. Brother + Paul was sitting in the chancel with a lamp on the stall by his side. His + head leaned forward, his eyes were closed, and the light on his thin face + made it look pallid and lifeless. John called to him in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Paul!” + </p> + <p> + He rose quickly and followed John into the courtyard, looking wild and + weak and lost. + </p> + <p> + “But the lamp—I've forgotten it,” he said. “Shall I go back and put + it out?” + </p> + <p> + “How simple you are!” said John. “Somebody may be lying awake in the + house. Do you want him to see that you've left your penance an hour too + soon?” + </p> + <p> + “True.” + </p> + <p> + “Come this way—quietly.” + </p> + <p> + They passed on tip-toe to the passage leading to the street, where some + flickering gleams of the light without fell over them. + </p> + <p> + “Where's your hat?” said John. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot that too—I left it in the church.” + </p> + <p> + “Take mine,” said John, “and put up your hood and button your cassock—it's + a cruel night.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm afraid,” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Afraid of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Now that the time has come I'm afraid to learn the truth about her. After + all uncertainty is hope, you know, and then——” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! Be a man! Don't give way at the last moment. Here, tie my + handkerchief about your neck! How helpless you are, though! I've half a + mind to go myself instead.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't know what I want to say, and if you did you couldn't say + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then listen! Are you listening?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the hospital where your sister used to be a nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “Martha's Vineyard?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask for Nurse Quayle—will you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Nurse Quayle.” + </p> + <p> + “If she is on night duty she will see you at once. But if she is on day + duty she may be in bed and asleep, and in that case——” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, take this letter. Have you got it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it to the porter. Tell him it comes from the former chaplain—you + remember. Say it concerns a matter of great importance, and ask him to + send it up to the dormitories immediately. Then——” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Then <i>she</i> must tell you what to do next.” + </p> + <p> + “But if she is out?” + </p> + <p> + “She may be-this is New Year's Eve.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait in the porch till she comes in again.” + </p> + <p> + John's impetuous will was carrying everything before it, and the helpless + creature began to overwhelm him with grateful blessings. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! We'll not talk of that.... Have you any money?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither have I. I brought nothing here except the little in my purse, and + I gave that up on entering.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any—I can walk.” + </p> + <p> + “It will take you an hour then.” + </p> + <p> + A clock was striking somewhere. “Hush! One, two, three ... eleven o'clock. + It will be midnight when you get there. Now go!” + </p> + <p> + The key was grating in the lock of the gate. “Remember Lauds at six in the + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be back at five.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'll open the gate at 5.30. Only six hours to do everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + Paul was in the street, but John was in the darkness of the passage. + </p> + <p> + “Very likely you'll cross London in a cab with her.” + </p> + <p> + “My sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Your sister went to live somewhere in St. John's Wood, I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “St. John's Wood?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell her”—John was striving to keep his voice firm—“tell her + I am happy—and cheerful—and looking strong and well, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're not. You're too good, and you're wearing away in my——” + </p> + <p> + “Tell her I am often thinking of her, and if she has anything to say—anything + to send—any word—any message ... it can't be displeasing to + the Almighty.... But no matter! Go, go!” + </p> + <p> + The key had grated in the lock again, the lay brother was gone, and John + was left alone. + </p> + <p> + “God pity and forgive me!” he muttered, and then he turned away. + </p> + <p> + The traffic in the streets was increasing every moment, and as he stumbled + across the courtyard a drunken man going by the gate stopped and cried + into the passage, “Helloa, there! I'm a-watchin' of ye!” The bloodhound + leaped up and barked, but John hurried into the house and clashed the + door. + </p> + <p> + He sat on the form and tried to compose himself. He thought of Paul as he + had seen him at the last moment—the captured eagle with the broken + wing scudding into the night, the night of London, but free, free! + </p> + <p> + In his mind's eye he followed him through the streets—down + Bishopsgate Street into Threadneedle Street and along Cheapside to St. + Paul's churchyard. Crowds of people would be there to-night waiting for + the striking of the clock at midnight that they might raise a shout and + wish each other a happy New Year. + </p> + <p> + That made him think of Glory. She would be there too, for she loved a rich + and abounding life. He could see her quite plainly in the midst of the + throng with her sparkling eyes and bounding step. It would be so new to + her, so human and so beautiful! Glory! Always Glory! + </p> + <p> + He thought he must have been dreaming, for suddenly the clocks were all + striking, first the clock in the hall, then the clocks of the churches + round about, and finally the great clock of the cathedral. Almost at the + same moment there was a distant sound like the rattle of musketry, and + then the church bells began to ring. + </p> + <p> + The noises in the street were now tumultuous. People were shouting and + laughing. Some of them were singing. At one moment it was the Salvation + chorus, at the next a music-hall ditty. First “At the Cross, at the + Cross,” then “Mr. 'enry 'awkins,” and then an unfamiliar ditty. With + measured steps over the hardened snow of the pavement there came tramping + along a line of boys and girls, crying: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + D'ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay? + D'ye ken John Peel at the break of day? + D'ye ken John P-e-e-l—— +</pre> + <p> + Their shrill trebles broke like a rocket on the topmost note, and there + was loud laughter. + </p> + <p> + Glory again! Always, always Glory! + </p> + <p> + Then the scales fell from his eyes and he saw himself as he was, a + self-deluded man and a cheat. The impulses that had prompted him to this + night's work had really centred in Glory. It had been Glory first and + Glory last, and his pity for Brother Paul and his fear for the fate of + Polly had been only a falsehood and pretence. + </p> + <p> + The night wind was still howling about the house. Its noise mingled with + the peal of the church bells, and together they seemed to utter the voices + of mocking fiends: Judas! Traitor! Fool! Fool! Traitor! Judas! + </p> + <p> + He covered his ears with his hands and his head fell into his breast. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. + </h2> + <p> + “The Little Turnstile, + </p> + <p> + “New Year's Eve. + </p> + <p> + “Hooraa! hooraa! + </p> + <p> + “Feeling like bottled yeast this evening and liable to go off, I thank my + stars I have three old babies at home to whom I am bound to tell + everything. So lizzen, lizzen for all! Know ye then, all men (and women) + by these presents that there is a gentleman in London who predicts + wonderful things for Glory. His name is Sefton, and I came to know him + through three ladies—I call them the Three Graces—whose + acquaintance I have made by coming to live here. He is only an old + mushroom with a bald, white head; and if I believed everything their + ladyships say I should conclude that he is one of those who never sin + except twice a year, and that is all the time before Christmas and all the + time after it. But their Graces belong to that saintly sisterhood who + would take away the devil's character if they needed it (they don't), and + though the mushroom's honour were as scarce as the middle cut in salmon, + yet in common loyalty Glory would have to believe in it. + </p> + <p> + “It is all about my voice. Hearing it by accident when I was humming about + the house like a blue-bottle, he asked me to let him hear it again in a + place where he could judge of it to more advantage. That turned out to be + a theatre—yes, indeed, a theatre—but it was the middle of the + morning, and nobody was there except ourselves and a couple of cleaners, + so Aunt Anna needn't be afraid. Yes, the chief of the orchestra was + present, and he sat before a piano on the edge of the maelstrom, in what + we should call the High Bailiff's pews—but they call them the stalls—while + the mushroom himself went back to the cavernous depths of the body, which + in a theatre they have properly christened the pit, and this morning it + looked like the bottomless one. + </p> + <p> + “Lor'-a-massey! Ever see the inside of a theatre in the daytime? Of course + you've not, my dears. It is what the world itself was the day before the + first day—without form and void, and darkness is on the face of the + deep. Not a ray of daylight anywhere, except the adulterated kind that + comes mooching round corridors and prowling in at half-open doors, and + floating through the sepulchral gloom like the sleepy eyes of the monsters + that terrified me in the caves at Gob-ny-Deigan when I used to play + pirate, you remember. + </p> + <p> + “The gentlemen had left me alone on the stage with five or six footlights—which + they ought to call face-lights—flashing in my eyes, and when the + pianist began to vamp and I to sing it was like pitching my voice into a + tunnel, and I became so dreadfully nervous that I was forced to laugh. + That seemed to vex my unseen audience, who thought me 'rot'; so I said, + 'Let there be more light then.' and there was more light, 'and let the + piano cease from troubling,' and it was so. Then I just stiffened my back + and gave them one of mother's French songs, and after the first verse I + called out to the manager at the back,” Can you hear me?' and he called + back, 'Go on; it's splendid!' So I did 'Mylecharaine' in the Manx, and I + suppose I acted both of my songs; but I was only beginning to be aware + that my voice in that great place was a little less like a barrel-organ + than usual when suddenly there came a terrific clatter, such as comes with + the seventh wave on the shingle, and my two dear men in the dark were + clapping the skin of their hands off! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dears! my dears! If you only knew how for weeks and weeks I had + been moaning and lamenting that it was because I wasn't clever that people + took no notice of me, you would forgive a vain creature when she said to + herself, 'My daughter, you are really somebody, after all—you, you, + you!' It was a beautiful moment, though, and when the old mushroom came + back to the stage saying: 'What a voice! What expression! What nature!' I + felt like falling on his bald head and kissing it, not being able to speak + for lumps in the throat and feeling like the Methodist lady who poured out + whisky for the class leaders after they had presented her with a watch, + and then told the reporters to say she had suitably responded. + </p> + <p> + “Heigho! I have talked about the fashionable people I meet in London, but + I don't want to be one of them. They do nothing but rush about, dress, + gossip, laugh, love, and plunge into all the delights of life. That is not + my idea of existence. I am ambitious. I want to do something. I am tired + in my soul of doing nothing. Yes, it <i>has</i> been that all along, + though I didn't like to tell you so before. There are people who are born + in the midst of greatness and they don't know how to use it. But to be one + of the world's celebrities, that is so different! To have won the heart of + the world, so that the world knows you and thinks of you and loves you! + Say it is by your voice you do it and that your world is the concert hall, + or even the music hall—what matter? You needn't <i>live</i> music + hall, whatever the life inside of it. And then that great dark void + peopled with faces; that laugh or cry just as you please to make them—confess; + that it would be magnificent, my dear ones! + </p> + <p> + “I am to go again to-night to hear what Mr. Sefton has to propose, but + already this dingy little bedroom smiles upon me, and even the broken + tiles in the backyard might be the pavement of paradise! If it is true + what he tells me—-Well, he that hath the bride is the bridegroom, + and if my doings hereafter don't make your hair curl I will try to show + the inhabitants of this stupid old earth what a woman can do in spite of + every disadvantage. I shall not be sorry to leave this place either. The + rats in these old London houses (judging by their cries of woe) hold a + nightly carnival for the eating up of the younger members of the family. + And then Mrs. Jupe and Mr. Jupe—Mr. Dupe I call him—she + deceives him so dreadfully with her gadding about——But anon, + anon, good people! + </p> + <p> + “It is New Year's Eve to-day, and nearly nine months since I came up to + London. <i>Tempus fugit!</i> In fact <i>tempus</i> is <i>fugit</i>-ing + most fearfully, considering that I am twenty-one on Sunday next, you know, + and that I haven't begun to do anything really. The snowdrops must be + making a peep at Glenfaba by this time, and Aunt Rachel will be cutting + slips of the rose trees and putting them in pots. Yandher place must he <i>urromassy</i> + [* Out of mercy.] nice though, with snow on the roof and the sloping lawn, + and the windows glistening with frost—just like a girl in her + confirmation veil as she stands hack to look at herself in the glass. I + intend to see the New Year in this time on the outside of St. Paul's + Cathedral, where people congregate in thousands as twelve o'clock + approaches to carry on the beautiful fiction that there is still only one + clock in London, and they have to hold their noses in the air to watch for + the moment when it is going to strike. But in the midst of the light and + life of this splendid city I know my heart will go back with a tender + twinge to the little dark streets on the edge of the sea, where the + Methodist choirs will be singing, 'Hail, smiling morn,' preparatory to + coffee and currant cake. + </p> + <p> + “Who will be your 'first foot' this year, I wonder? It was John Storm last + year, you remember, and being as dark as a gipsy, he made a perfect <i>qualtagh</i>. + [* Manx for “first foot.”] And how we laughed when, disguised in the snow + that was falling at the time, he pretended to be a beggar and came in just + as grandfather was reading the bit about the Good Shepherd, and how he + loved his lambs—and then I found him out! Ah me! + </p> + <p> + “I am looking perfectly dazzling in a new hat to-day, having been going + about hitherto in one of those little frights that used to be cocked up on + the top of your hair like a hen on a cornstack. But now I am carrying + about the Prince of Wales's feathers, and if he could only see me himself + in them!—— + </p> + <p> + “You see what a scatter-brained creature I am! Leaving the hospital has + made me grow so much younger every day that I am almost afraid I may come + to contemplate short frocks. But really it's the first time I've looked + nice for an eternity, and now I entirely retract and repent me of all I + said about wishing to be a man. Being a girl, I'll put up with it, and if + all the old mushroom says on that head also is true—— But then + men are such funny things, bless them! Glory. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—No word from John Storm yet. Apparently he never thinks of us + now—of me at all events—and I suppose he has resigned himself + and taken the vows. That's one kind of religion, I dare say, but I can't + understand it; and I don't know how a dog, even, can be nailed up to a + wall and not go mad. In the night lying in bed I sometimes think of him. A + dark cell, a bench for a bed, a crucifix, and no other furniture, praying + with trembling limbs and chattering teeth—No; such things are too + high for me; I can not reach to them. + </p> + <p> + “It seems impossible that <i>he</i> can be in London too. What a place + this London is! Such a mixture! Fashion, religion, gaiety, devotion, + pride, depravity, wealth, poverty! I find that for a girl to succeed in + London her moral colour must be heightened a little. <i>Pinjane</i> [* + Manx dish, like Devonshire junket] alone won't do. Give her a slush of <i>pissaves</i> + [* Preserves] and she'll go down sweeter. Angels are not wanted here at + all. The only angels there are in London are kept framed in the church + windows, and I half suspect that even they were women once, and liked + bread and butter. And then Nell Gwynne's flag floats from the steeple of + St. Martin's in the Fields, and now and again they ring the bells for + her!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. + </h2> + <p> + At eleven o'clock that night Glory was putting on her hat and cloak to + return home when the call-boy came to the dressing-room door to say that + the stage manager was waiting to see her. With a little catch, in her + breath, and then with a tightening of the heart-strings, she followed him + to the stage manager's office. It was a stuffy place over the porter's + lodge, approached by a flight of circular iron stairs and lumbered with + many kinds of theatrical property. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, my dear,” said the stage manager, and pushing away some models + of scenery he made room for her on a sofa which stood by a fast-dying + fire. Then shutting the door, he bobbed his head at her and winked with + both eyes, and said in a familiar whisper: + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, my dear. I've settled that little matter for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean——” began Glory, and then she waited with parted + lips. + </p> + <p> + “It's as good as done, my dear. Sit down.” Glory had risen in her + excitement. “Sit down and I'll tell you everything.” + </p> + <p> + He had spoken to his management. “Gentlemen,” he had said, “unless I'm + mistaken I've found a prize.” They had laughed. He was always finding + prizes. But he knew what he was talking about, and they had given him <i>carte + blanche</i>. + </p> + <p> + “You think there is really some likelihood, then——” began + Glory, with the catch in her breath again, for her throat was thick and + her breast was heaving. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, now do sit down, my dear, and listen.” + </p> + <p> + He was suave, he was flattering, he was intimate, he was, coaxing. She was + to leave everything to him. Of course, there was much to be done yet. She + had a wonderful voice; it was finer than music. She had style as well; it + was astonishing how she had come by it. Only a dresser, too—not even + in the chorus. But stars were never turned out by Nature. She had many + things to learn, and would have to be coached up carefully before she + could be brought out. He had done it for others, though, and he could do + it for her; and if—— + </p> + <p> + Glory's eyes were shining and her heart was beating like a drum. + </p> + <p> + “Then you think that eventually—if I work hard—after years + perhaps——” + </p> + <p> + “You can't do it on your own, my dear, so leave yourself in my hands + entirely, and don't whisper a word about it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” It was like a dream coming true; she could scarcely believe in it. + The stage manager became still more suave and flattering and familiar. If + she “caught on,” there was no knowing what he might not get for her—ten + pounds a week—fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, even fifty perhaps. + </p> + <p> + Glory's palpitation was becoming painful, and at the bottom of her heart + there was a certain fear of this sudden tide of fortune, as if Providence + had somehow made a mistake and would as suddenly find it out. To appease + her conscience she began to think of home and how happy she might make + everybody there if God was really going to be so good to her. They should + want for nothing; they should never know a poor day again. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the stage manager was painting another picture. A girl didn't go + a-begging if he once took her up. There was S——. She was only + an “auricomous” damsel, serving in a tobacconist's shop in the Haymarket + when he first found her, and now where was she? + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I've no interest of my own to serve, my dear—none + whatever. And there'll be lots of people to tempt you away from me when + your name is made.” + </p> + <p> + Glory uttered some vehement protest, and then was lost in her dreams + again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, we'll see,” said the stage manager. He was looking at her + with glittering eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, my dear, you are a very fine-looking young woman?” + </p> + <p> + Glory's head was down, her face was flushed, and she was turning her + mother's pearl ring around her finger. He thought she was overwhelmed by + his praises, and coming closer, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Dare say you've got a good stage figure too, eh? Pooh! Only business, you + know! But you mustn't be shy with me, my dear. And besides, if I am to do + all this for you, you must do something for me sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + She hardly heard him. Her eyes were still glistening with the far-off look + of one who gazes on a beautiful vision. + </p> + <p> + “You are so good,” she said. “I don't know what to say, or how to thank + you.” + </p> + <p> + “This way,” he whispered, and leaning over to her he lifted her face and + kissed her. + </p> + <p> + Then her poor dream of glory and grandeur and happiness was dispelled in a + moment, and she awoke with a sense of outrage and shame. The man's praises + were flattery; his predictions were a pretence; he had not really meant it + at all, and she had been so simple as to believe everything. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said, with the feeble, childish cry of one who has received a + pistol wound in battle. And then she rose and turned to go. But the stage + manager, who was laughing noisily out of his hot red face, stepped between + her and the door. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, you can't mean—a trifle like that—!” + </p> + <p> + “Open the door, please,” she said in her husky voice. + </p> + <p> + “But surely you don't intend—In this profession we think nothing, + you know——” + </p> + <p> + “Open the door, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Really—upon my word——” + </p> + <p> + When she came to herself again she was out in the dark back street, and + the snow was hard and dirty under foot, and the wind was high and cold, + and she was running along and crying like a disappointed child. + </p> + <p> + The bitterest part of it all was the crushing certainty that she had no + talents and no chances of success, and that the man had only painted up + his fancy picture as a means of deceiving her. Oh, the misery of being a + woman! Oh, the cruelty of this great, glorious, devilish London, where a + girl, if she was poor and alone, could live only by her looks! + </p> + <p> + With God knows what lingering remnant of expectation, but feeling broken + and beaten after her brave fight for life, and with the weak woman + uppermost at last, she had turned toward the hospital. It was nearly + half-past eleven when she got there, and Big Ben was chiming the half hour + as she ascended the steps. Bracing herself up, she looked in at the + porter's door with a face that was doing its best to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Any letters to-night, porter?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “No? Well—none to get, none to answer, you know. Happy New Year to + you!” + </p> + <p> + But there was a sob in her laughter, and the man said: “I'd be sorry to + miss your face, nurse, but if you'll leave your address I'll send your + letters on and save you the journey so late at night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no-no, there'll be no more letters now, porter, and—I'll not + come again. Here!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, you must.” + </p> + <p> + She forced a shilling into the porter's hand in spite of his protests, and + then fled from the look in his face which seemed to her to say that he + would like to return her sixpence. + </p> + <p> + John Storm was lost to her. It was foolishness to go on expecting to hear + from him. Had he not told her that the rule under which the brothers lived + in community forbade them to write and receive letters except by special + permission? But she had expected that something would happen—some + accident, some miracle, she hardly knew what. That dream was over now; she + was alone; it was no use deceiving herself any longer. + </p> + <p> + She went home by the back streets, for people were peering into her face, + and she thought perhaps she had been crying. Late as it was, being New + Year's Eve, there were groups about every corner, and in some of the + flagged courts and alleys little girls were dancing to the music of the + Italian organ man or turning catherine-wheels. As she was going down Long + Acre a creachy voice saluted her. + </p> + <p> + “Evening, miss! Going home early, ain't ye?” + </p> + <p> + It was a miserable-looking woman in clothes that might have been stolen + from a scarecrow. + </p> + <p> + “Market full to-night, my dear? Look as if the dodgers had been at ye. + Live? I live off of the lane. But lor' bless ye, I've lived in a-many + places! Seen the day I lived in Soho Square. I was on the 'alls then. Got + a bit quisby on my top notes, you know, and took the scarlet fever—soldier, + I mean, my dear. But what's the use of frettin'? + </p> + <p> + “I likes to be jolly, and I allwiz is. Doing now? Selling flowers outside + the theatres—police is nasty if you've got nothink. Ain't I going + home? Soon as I get a drain of white satin. Wish you luck, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + As she came up to the shop in the Turnstile she could hear that it was + noisy with the voices of men and girls, so she turned back through + Lincoln's-Inn Fields and passed down to Fleet Street. It was approaching + twelve o'clock by this time, and streams of people were flowing in the + direction of St. Paul's Cathedral. Glory turned eastward also and allowed + herself to be carried along with the current which babbled and talked like + a river in the night. + </p> + <p> + Immediately in front of her there was a line of girls walking arm-in-arm + across the width of the pavement. They were factory girls in big hats with + ostrich feathers, and as they skipped along with their free step they sang + snatches of Salvation hymns and music-hall songs. All at once they gave a + shrill peal of laughter, and one of them cried, “Tell me what it is and + I'll give it a nyme.” At the next moment a strange figure was forging past + their line, going westward with long strides. It was a man in the habit of + a monk, with long black cassock and broad-brimmed hat. Glory caught a + glimpse of his face as he passed her. It was a hungry, eager face, with + big, melancholy eyes, and it seemed to her that she must have seen it + before somewhere. The wind was very cold, and the great cross on the dome + of the cathedral stood out like a beacon against flying clouds. + </p> + <p> + St. Paul's churchyard was thronged with noisy, happy people, and down to + the last minute before the hour they shouted and joked and laughed. Then + there was a hush, the great crowds seemed to hold their breath as if they + had been a single living creature, and every face was turned upward to the + clock. The clock struck, the bells of the cathedral began to ring, the + people cheered and saluted each other and shook hands on every side, and + then the dense mass broke up. + </p> + <p> + Glory could have cried for joy of it all—it was so simple, so human, + so childlike. But she listened to the laughter and salutations of the + people about her and felt more lonely than the Bedouin in the desert; she + remembered the bubbling hopes that had carried her through the day, and + her heart fell low; she thought of the letter which she had posted home on + her way to the theatre, and two great tears came rolling from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + The face of the monk tormented her, and suddenly she bethought herself + whose face it must have been. It must have been the face of Polly Love's + brother. He belonged to the Bishopsgate Fathers, and had once been a + patient in the hospital, and perhaps he was going there now on some errand + or urgent message—to the doctors or to—— + </p> + <p> + “It was foolish not to leave my address when the porter asked me,” she + thought. She would go back and do so. There could be no harm in that; and + if anything had really happened, if John—— + </p> + <p> + “Happy New Year to you, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + Somebody in the drifting crowd was standing before her and blocking the + way. It was Agatha Jones in a mock seal-skin coat and big black hat + surmounted by black feathers, and with Charlie Wilkes (with his diminutive + cap pushed back from his oily fringe and pimpled forehead) leaning heavily + on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never! Who'd have thought of meeting you in St. Paul's + churchyawd!” + </p> + <p> + Glory tried to laugh and to return the salutation over the noises of the + people and the clangour of the bells. And then Aggie put her face close, + as women do who are accustomed to talking in the streets, and said: + “Thought we'd seen the lahst of you, my dear, when you went off that night + sudden. Selling programmes somewhere else now?” + </p> + <p> + “Something of that sort,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not. I've been left the old red church this fortnight and more. + Charlie's got me on the clubs. But my word!” turning to Charlie, “it's her + as oughter be there, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + “She cheeks me out,” said Charlie, “as you'll knock the stuffing out of + Betty Bellman 'erself if you once myke a stawt.” + </p> + <p> + And Aggie said: “I might get you to do a turn almost any Sunday, if you + like, my dear. There's always somebody as down't come, and they're glad of + an extra turn to tyke the number if she's only clever enough to get a few + 'ands. Going 'ome, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Where d'ye live?” said Aggie, and Glory told her. + </p> + <p> + “I'll call for you Sunday night at eight, and if you down't tyke your + chawnce when you get it, you're a foolisher woman than I thought you were, + that's stright! By-bye!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. + </h2> + <p> + Always at half-past five in the morning the Father Superior began to + awaken the Brotherhood. It took him a quarter of an hour to pass through + the house on that errand, for the infirmities of his years were upon him. + During this interval John Storm had intended to open the gate to Paul and + then return the key to its place in the Father's room. The time was short, + and to lose no part of it he had resolved to remain awake the whole night + through. + </p> + <p> + There was little need to make a call on that resolution. With fear and + remorse he could not close his eyes, and from hour to hour he heard every + sound of the streets. At one o'clock, the voices singing outside were + strained and cracked and out of tune; at two, they were brutish and + drunken and mingled with shrieks of quarrelling; at three, there was + silence; at four, the butchers' wagons were rattling on the stones from + the shambles across the river to the meat markets of London, with the + carcasses of the thousands of beasts that were slaughtered overnight to + feed the body of the mammoth on the morrow; and at five, the postal vans + were galloping from the railway stations to the post-office with the + millions of letters that were to feed its mind. + </p> + <p> + At half-past five the Father had come out of his room and passed slowly + upstairs, and John Storm was in the courtyard opening the lock of the + outer gate. Although there was a feeling of morning in the freezing air it + was still quite dark. + </p> + <p> + “Paul,” he whispered, but there was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Brother Paul!” he whispered again, and then waited, but there was no + reply. + </p> + <p> + It was not at first that he realized the tremendous gravity of what had + occurred—that Brother Paul had not returned, and that he must go + back to the house without him. He kept calling into the darkness until he + remembered that the Father would be down in his room again soon and + looking for the key where he had left it. + </p> + <p> + Back in the hall, he reproached himself with his haste, and concluded to + return to the gate. There would be time to do it; the Father was still far + overhead; his “Benedicamus Domino” was passing from corridor to corridor; + and Paul might be coming down the street. + </p> + <p> + “Paul! Paul!” he cried again, and opening the gate he looked out. But + there was no one on the pavement except a drunken man and a girl, singing + themselves home in the dead waste of the New Year's morning. + </p> + <p> + Then the truth fell on him like a thundercloud, and he hurried back to the + house for good. By this time the Father was coming down the stairs, and + had reached the landing of the first story. Snatching up from the bed in + the alcove the book which had been lying there all night unregarded, he + crept into the Father's room. He was coming out of it when he came face to + face with the Father himself, who was on the point of going in. + </p> + <p> + “I have been returning the book you lent me,” he said, and then he tried + to steal away in his shame. But the Father held him a while in playful + remonstrance. The hours were not all saved that were stolen from the + night, and his swelled eyes this morning were a testimony to the musty old + maxim. Still, with a book like that, his diligence was not to be wondered + at, and it would be interesting to hear what he thought of it. He couldn't + say as yet. That wasn't to be wondered at either. Somebody had said that a + great book was like a great mountain—not to be seen to the top while + you were still too near to it. + </p> + <p> + John's duplicity was choking him. His eyes were averted from the Father's + face, for he had lost the power of looking straight at any one, and he + could see the key of the gate still shaking from the hook on which his + nervous fingers had placed it. When he escaped at length, the Father asked + him to ring the bell for Lauds, as Brother Andrew, whose duty it was, had + evidently overslept himself. + </p> + <p> + John rang the bell, and then took his lamp and some tapers from a shelf in + the hall and went out to the church to light the candles, for that also + was Brother Andrew's duty. As he was crossing the courtyard on his way + back to the house, he passed the Father going to open the gate. + </p> + <p> + “But what has become of your hat?” said the Father, and then, for the + first time, John remembered what he had done with it. + </p> + <p> + “I've lent—that is to say, I've lost it,” he answered, and then + stood with his eyes on the ground while the Father reproved him for + heedlessness of health, and so forth. + </p> + <p> + It is part of the perversity of circumstance that while an incident of the + greatest gravity is occurring, its ridiculous counterpart is usually + taking place by the side of it. When the religious had gathered in the + church it was seen that three of the stalls were vacant—Brother + Paul's, Brother Andrew's, and the Father Minister's. The service had + hardly begun when the bell was heard to ring again, and with a louder + clangour than before, whereupon the religious concluded that Brother + Andrew had awakened from his sleep, and was remembering with remorse his + belated duty. + </p> + <p> + But it was the Father Minister. That silent and severe person had + oftentimes rebuked the lay brother for his sleepiness, and this morning he + had himself been overcome by the same infirmity. Awakening suddenly a + little after six by the watch that hung by his bed, he had thought, “That + lazy fellow is late again—I'll teach him a lesson.” Leaping to his + feet (the monk sleeps in his habit), he had hastened to the bell and rung + it furiously, and then snatched up a taper and hurried down the stairs to + light the candles in the church. When he appeared at the sacristy door + with a lighted taper in his hand and confusion on his face, the brothers + understood everything at a glance, and not even the solemnity of the + service could smother the snufflings of their laughter. + </p> + <p> + The incident was a trivial one, but it diverted attention for a time from + the fact of Paul's absence, and when the religious went back to the house + and found Brother Andrew returned to his old duty as doorkeeper, the + laughter was renewed, and there was some playful banter. + </p> + <p> + The monk is so far a child that the least thing happening in the morning + is enough to determine the temper of the day, and as late as the hour for + breakfast the house was still rippling with the humour of the Father + Minister's misadventure. There was one seat vacant in the refectory—Brother + Paul's—and the Superior was the first to observe it. With a twinkle + in his eye, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I feel like Boy Blue this morning. Two of my stray sheep have come home, + bringing their tails behind them. Will anybody go in search of the third?” + </p> + <p> + John Storm rose immediately, but a lay brother was before him, so he sat + down again with his white cheeks and quivering lips, and made an effort to + eat his breakfast. + </p> + <p> + The reader for the week recited the Scripture for the day, and then took + up the book which the brothers were hearing at their meals. It was the + Life and Death of Father Ignatius of St. Paul, and the chapter they had + come to dealt with certain amusing examples of vanities and foibles. An + evil spirit might have selected it with special reference to the incidents + of the morning, for at every fresh illustration the Father Minister + squirmed on his seat, and the brothers looked across at him and laughed + with a spice of mischief, and even a touch of malice. + </p> + <p> + John's eyes were on the door, and his heart was quivering, but the + messenger did not return during breakfast, and when it was over the + Superior rose without waiting for him and led the way to the community + room. + </p> + <p> + A fire was burning in the wide grate, and the room was cheerful with + reflected sun-rays, for the sun was shining in the courtyard and + glistening on the frosty boughs of the sycamore. It was a beautiful New + Year's morning, and the Father began to tell some timely stories. In the + midst of the laughter that greeted them the lay brother returned and + delivered his message. Brother Paul could not be found, and there was not + a sign of him anywhere in the house. + </p> + <p> + “That's strange,” said the religious. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he is in his cell,” said the Father. + </p> + <p> + “No, he is not there,” said the messenger, “and his bed has not been slept + in.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that explains something,” said the Father. “I thought he didn't + answer when I knocked at his door in the morning, but my ears grow dull + and my eyes are failing me, and I told myself perhaps——” + </p> + <p> + “It's very strange'” said the religious, with looks of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “But perhaps he staid all night at his penance in the church,” said the + Father. + </p> + <p> + “Apparently his hat did so at all events,” said one of the brothers. “I + saw it lying with his lamp on the stall in front of me.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment, and then the Father said with a smile: + </p> + <p> + “But my children are so amusing in such matters! Only this morning I had + to reprove Brother Storm for losing his hat somewhere, and now Brother + Paul——” + </p> + <p> + By an involuntary impulse, obscure to themselves, the brothers turned + toward John, who was standing in the recess of one of the windows with his + pale face looking out on the sunshine. + </p> + <p> + John was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” he said, “I have something to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come this way,” said the Superior, and they passed out of the room + together. + </p> + <p> + The Father led the way to his room and closed the door behind them. But + there was little need for confession; the Father seemed to know everything + in an instant. He sat in his wicker chair before the fire and rocked + himself and moaned. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, God's wrath comes up against the children of disobedience, + but we must do our best to bear our punishment.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm made no excuses. He had stood by the Father's chair and told + his story simply, without fear or remorse, only concealing that part of it + which concerned himself in relation to Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said the Father, “I see quite plainly how it has been. He was + like tinder, ready to take fire at a spark, and you were thinking I had + been hard and cruel and in-human.” + </p> + <p> + It was the truth; John could not deny it; he held down his head and was + silent. + </p> + <p> + “But shall I tell you why I refused that poor boy's petition? Shall I tell + you who he was, and how he came to be here? Yes, I will tell you. Nobody + in this house has heard it until now, because it was his secret and mine + and God's alone—not given me in confession, no, or it would have to + be locked in my breast forever. But you have thrust yourself in between + us, so you must hear everything, and may the Lord pity and forgive you and + help you to bear your burden!” + </p> + <p> + John felt that a cold damp was breaking out on his forehead, but he + clinched his moist hands and made ready to control himself. + </p> + <p> + “Has he ever spoken of another sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has sometimes mentioned her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then perhaps you have been told of the painful and tragic event that + happened?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said John, but something that he had heard at the board meeting at + the hospital returned at that moment with a stunning force to his memory. + </p> + <p> + “His father, poor man, was one of my own people—one of the lay + associates of our society in the world outside. But his health gave way, + his business failed him, and he died in a madhouse, leaving his three + children to the care of a friend. The friend was thought to be a worthy, + and even a pious man, but he was a scoundrel and a traitor. The younger + sister—the one you know—he committed to an orphanage; the + elder one he deceived and ruined. As a sequel to his sin, she lived a life + of shame on the streets of London, and died by suicide at the end of it.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm put up one hand to his head as if his brain was bursting, and + with the other hand he held on to the Father's chair. + </p> + <p> + “That was bad enough, but there was worse to follow. Our poor Paul had + grown to be a man by this time, and Satan put it into his heart to avenge + his sister's dishonour. 'As the whirlwind passeth, so the wicked are no + more.' The betrayer of his trust was found dead in his room, slain by an + unknown assassin. Brother Paul had killed him.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm had fallen to his knees. If hell itself had opened at his feet + he could not have been stricken with more horror. In a voice strangled by + fear he stammered: “But why didn't you tell me this before? Why have you + hidden it until now?” + </p> + <p> + “Passions, my son, are the same in a monastery as outside of it, and I had + too much reason to fear that the saintliest soul in our Brotherhood would + have refused to live and eat and sleep in the same house with a murderer. + But the poor soul had come to me like a hunted beast, and who was I that I + should turn my back upon him? Before that he had tramped through the + streets and slept in the parks, under the impression that the police were + pursuing him, and thereby he had contracted the lung disease from which he + suffers still. What was I to do? Give him up to the law? Who shall tell me + how I could have held the balance level? I took him into my house; I + sheltered him; I made him a member of our community; Heaven forgive me, I + suffered myself to receive his vows. It was for me to comfort his stricken + body, for the Church to heal his wounded soul; and as for his crime, that + was in God's hands, and God alone could deal with it.” + </p> + <p> + The Father had risen to his feet, and he spoke the last words with + uplifted hand. + </p> + <p> + “Now you know why I refused that poor boy's petition. I loved him as a + son, but neither the disease of his body nor the weakness of his mind + could break the firmness of the rule by which I held him. I knew that + Satan was dragging him away from me, and I would not give him up to the + sufferings and dangers which the Evil One was preparing for him in the + world. But how subtle are the temptations of the devil! He found the weak + place in my armour at last. He found you, my son—you; and he tempted + you by all your love, by all your pity, by all your tenderness, and you + fell, and this is the consequence.” + </p> + <p> + The Father clasped his hands at his breast and walked to and fro in the + little room. + </p> + <p> + “The bitterness of the world against religious houses is great already; + but if anything should happen now, if a crime should be committed, if our + poor brother, clad in the habit of our Order——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and crossed himself and lifted His eyes, and said in a + tremulous whisper: “O God, whom have I in heaven but thee? My flesh and my + heart faileth; but God is the strength of my heart and my portion + forever.” + </p> + <p> + John had staggered to his feet like a drunken man. “Father,” he said, + “send me away from you. I am not fit to live by your side.” + </p> + <p> + The Father laid both hands on his shoulders. “And shall I lower my flag to + the enemy like that? There is only one way to defeat the devil, and that + is to defy him. No, no, my son, you shall remain with me to the last.” + </p> + <p> + “Punish me, then. Give me penance. Let me be the lowest of the low and the + meanest of the mean. Only tell me what I am to do and I will do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Go back to the door and resume your duty as doorkeeper.” + </p> + <p> + John looked at the Father with an expression of bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you had done with it, my son, but Heaven knew better. And + promise that when you are there you will pray for our wandering brother, + that he may not be allowed to fulfil the errand on which you sent him out; + pray that he may never find his sister, or anybody who knows her and can + tell him where she is and what has become of her; pray that she may never + cross his path to the last hour of life and the first of death's + sundering; promise to pray for this, my son, night and day, morning and + evening, with all your soul and strength, as you would pray for God's + mercy and your soul's salvation.” + </p> + <p> + John did not answer; he was like a man in a stupor. “Is it possible?” he + said. “Are you sending me back to the door? Can you trust me again?” + </p> + <p> + The Father stepped to the side of the bed and took the key of the gate + from its place under the shelf. “Take this key with you, too, because for + the future you are to be the keeper of the gate as well.” + </p> + <p> + John had taken the key mechanically, hardly hearing what was being said. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true, then—have you got faith in me still?” + </p> + <p> + The Father put both hands on his shoulders again and looked into his face. + “God has faith in you, my child, and who am I that I should despair?” + </p> + <p> + When John Storm returned to the door his mind was in a state of + stupefaction. Many hours passed during which he was only partly conscious + of what was taking place about him. Sometimes he was aware that certain of + the brothers had gathered around, with a tingling, electrical atmosphere + among them, and that they were asking questions about the escape, and + whispering together as if it had been something courageous and almost + commendable, and had set their hearts beating. Again, sometimes he was + aware that big Brother Andrew was sitting by his side on the form, + stroking his arm from time to time, and talking in his low voice and + aimless way about his mother and the last he saw of her. “She followed me + down the street crying,” he said, “and I have often thought of it since + and been tempted to run away.” Also he was aware that the dog was with him + always, licking the backs of his stiff hands and poking up a cold snout + into his downcast face. + </p> + <p> + All this time he was doing his duties automatically and apparently without + help from his consciousness, opening and closing the door as the brothers + passed in and out on their errands to the dead and dying, and saying, + “Praise be to God!” when a stranger knocked. It may be that his body was + merely answering to the habits of its intellect, and that his soul, which + had sustained a terrible blow, was lying stunned and swooning within. + </p> + <p> + When it revived and he began to know and to feel once more, there was no + one with him, for the brothers were asleep in their beds and the dog was + in the courtyard, and the house was very quiet, for it was the middle of + the night. And then it came back to him, like a dream remembered in the + morning, that the Father had asked him to pray for Brother Paul that he + might fail in the errand on which he had sent him out into the world, and + though with his lips he had not promised, yet in his heart he had + undertaken to do so. + </p> + <p> + And being quite alone now, with no one but God for company, he went down + on his knees in his place by the door and clasped his hands together. + </p> + <p> + “O God,” he prayed, “have pity on Paul, and on me, and on all of us! Keep + him from all danger and suffering and from the snares and assaults of the + Evil One! Grant that he may never find his sister—or anybody who + knows her—or anybody who can tell him where she is and what has + become of her——” + </p> + <p> + But having got so far he could get no farther, for suddenly it occurred to + him that this was a prayer which concerned Glory and himself as well. It + was only then that he realized the magnitude and awfulness of the task he + had undertaken. He had undertaken to ask God that Paul might not find + Glory either, and therefore that he on his part might never hear of her + again. When he put it to himself like that, the sweat started from his + forehead and he was transfixed with fear. + </p> + <p> + He rose from his knees and sat on the form, and for a long hour he + laboured in the thought of a thousand possibilities, telling himself of + the many things which might befall a beautiful girl in a cruel and wicked + city. But then again he thought of Paul and of his former crime and + present temptation, and remembered the shadow that hung over the + Brotherhood. + </p> + <p> + “O God, help me,” he cried; “strengthen me, support me, guide me!” + </p> + <p> + He tried to frame another prayer, but the words would not come; he tried + to kneel as before, but his knees would not bend. How could he pray that + Glory also might be lost—that something might have happened to her—that + somewhere and in some way unknown to him—— + </p> + <p> + No, no, a thousand times no! The prayer was impossible. Let come what + would, let the danger to Paul and to the Brotherhood be what it might, let + Satan and all his legions fall on him, yet he could not and would not + utter it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. + </h2> + <p> + The stars were paling, but the day had not yet dawned, when there came a + knock at the door. John started and listened. After an interval the knock + was repeated. It was a timid, hesitating tap, as if made with the tips of + the fingers low down on the door. + </p> + <p> + “Praise be to God!” said John, and he drew the slide of the grating. He + had expected to see a face outside, but there was nothing there. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” he asked, and there came no answer. + </p> + <p> + He took up the lamp that was kept burning in the hall and looked out + through the bars. There was nothing in the darkness but an icy mist, which + appeared to be rising from the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Only another of my dreams,” he thought, and he laid his hand on the slide + to close it. + </p> + <p> + Then he heard a sigh that seemed to rise out of the ground, and at the + same moment the dog uttered a deep bay. He laid hold of the door and + pulled it quickly open. At his feet the figure of a man was kneeling, bent + double and huddled up. + </p> + <p> + “Paul!” he cried in an excited whisper. + </p> + <p> + Brother Paul raised his head. His face was frightfully changed. It was + gray and wasted. His eyes wandered, his lips trembled, and he looked like + a man who had been flogged. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord, what a wreck!” thought John. He helped him to rise and enter. + The poor creature's limbs were stiff with cold, and he stumbled from + weakness as he crossed the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “But, thank God, you are back and no harm done!” said John. “How anxious + we've been! You must never go out again—never! There, brother, sit + there.” + </p> + <p> + The wandering eyes looked up with a supplicating expression. “Forgive me. + Brother Storm——” + </p> + <p> + But John would not listen. “Hush, brother! what have I to forgive? How + cold you are! Your hands are like ice. What can I do? There's no fire in + the house at this time of night—even in the kitchen it will be out + now. But wait, I can rub you with my hands. See, I'm warm and strong. + There's a deal of blood in me yet. That's better, isn't it? Tingling, eh? + That's right—that's good! Now for your feet—your feet will be + colder still.” + </p> + <p> + “No, brother, no. I ought to be kissing the feet of everybody in the house + and asking the prayers of the community, and yet you——” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! what nonsense! Let me take off this shoe. Dear me, how it sticks! + Why, you've worn it through and through. Look! What a mercy the snow was + hard! If there had been thaw, now! How far you must have walked!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've wandered a long way, brother.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall tell me all about it. I want to hear everything—every + single thing.” + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing to tell. I've failed in my errand—that's all.” + </p> + <p> + John, who was on his knees, drew back and looked up. “Do you mean, then—-Have + you not seen your sister?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she's gone, and nobody knows anything about her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps it's for the best, brother. God's will be done, you know. + If you had found her—who knows?—you might have been tempted—But + tell me everything.” + </p> + <p> + “I can not do that, I'm so weak, and it's not worth while.” + </p> + <p> + “But I want to hear all that happened. See, your feet are all right now—I've + rubbed them warm again. Though I fast so much and look so thin I've a deal + of life in me. And I've been pouring it all into you, haven't I? That's + because I want you to revive and be strong and tell me everything. Hush! + Speak low; don't waken anybody! Did you find the hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Nurse Quayle sees nothing of your sister now? That's the pity of the + life she is leading, poor girl! No friends, no future——” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn' that, brother.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “The nurse was not there.” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed, and then John said in another voice: “I suppose she + was on a holiday. It was very stupid of me; I didn't think of that. Twice + a year a hospital nurse is entitled to a week's holiday, and no doubt——” + </p> + <p> + “But she was gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone? You mean left the hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” in a husky voice, “that isn't to be wondered at either. A + high-spirited girl finds it hard to be bound down to rule and regulation. + But the porter—he is an intelligent man—he would tell you + where she had gone to.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked him; he didn't know. All he could say was that she left the + hospital on the morning of Lord Mayor's Show-day.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be the 9th of November—the day we took our vows.” + </p> + <p> + There was another pause; the big dark eyes were wandering vacantly. + </p> + <p> + “After all, he is only a porter; you asked for the matron, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I thought she might know what had become of my sister. But she + didn't. As for Nurse Quayle, she had been dismissed also, and nobody knew + anything about her.” + </p> + <p> + John had seated himself at Paul's side and the form itself was quivering. + </p> + <p> + “Now that's just like her,” he said hoarsely. “That matron was always a + hard woman. And to think that in that great house of love and pity nobody——” + </p> + <p> + “I'm forgetting something, brother.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “The porter told me that the nurse called for her letters from time to + time. She had been there that night—not half an hour before.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you followed her, didn't you? You asked which, way she had gone, and + you hurried after her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but half an hour in London is a week anywhere else. Let anybody + cross the street and she is lost—more lost to sight than a ship in a + storm on the ocean. And then it was New Year's Eve, and the thoroughfares + were crowded, and thousands of women were coming and going—and—what + could I do?” he said helplessly. + </p> + <p> + John answered scornfully: “What could you do? Do you ask me what you could + do?” + </p> + <p> + “What would you have done?” + </p> + <p> + “I should have tramped every street in London and looked into the face of + every woman I met until I had found her. I should have worn my shoes to + the welt and my skin to the bone before I should have come crawling home + like a snail with my shell broken over my head! + </p> + <p> + “Don't be hard on me, brother, least of all now, when I have come home + like a snail, as you say, with my shell broken. I was very tired and ill + and did all I could. If I had been strong like you and brave-hearted I + might have struggled longer. Bid I <i>did</i> tramp the streets and look + into the women's faces. She must have been among them, if she's living the + life you speak of; but God would not let me find her. Why was it that my + search was fruitless? Perhaps there was evil in my heart at first—I + don't mind telling you that now—but I swear to you by Him who died + for us that at last I only wanted to find my sister that I might save her. + But I am such a helpless creature, and——” + </p> + <p> + John put his arm about Paul's shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, brother. I was mad to talk to you like that—I who sent + you out on that cruel night and staid at home myself. You did what you + could——” + </p> + <p> + “You think that—really?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, only at the moment it seemed as if we had changed places somehow, + and it was I who had lost a sister and been out to find her, and given up + the search too soon, and come home empty and useless and broken-spirited, + and——” + </p> + <p> + Paul was looking up at him with a face full of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really think I did all I could to find her—the nurse, I + mean?” + </p> + <p> + But John had turned his own face away, and there was no answer. Paul tried + to say something, but he could not find the words. At last in a choked + voice he murmured: “We must keep close together, brother; we are in the + same boat now.” + </p> + <p> + And feeling for John's hand, he took it and held it, and they sat for some + minutes with bowed heads, as if a ghost were going by. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing but prayer and penance and fasting left to us, is there?” + </p> + <p> + Still John made no reply, and the broken creature began to comfort him. + </p> + <p> + “We have peace here at all events, and you wouldn't, think what + temptations come to you in the world when you've lost somebody, and there + seems to be nothing left to live for. Shall I tell you what I did? It was + in the early morning and I was standing in a doorway in Piccadilly. The + cabs and the crowds were gone, and only the nightmen were there swilling + up the dirt of the pavements with their hose-pipes and water. 'My poor + girl is lost,' I thought, 'We shall never see one another again. This + wicked city has ruined her, and our mother, who was so holy, was fond of + her when she was a little child.' And then my heart seemed to freeze up + within me... and I did it. You'll think I was mad—I went to the + police station and told them I had committed a crime. Yes, indeed, I + accused myself of murder, and began to give particulars. It was only when + they noticed my habit that I remembered the Father, and then I refused to + answer any more questions. They put me in a cell, and that was where I + spent the night, and next morning I denied everything, and they let me + go.” + </p> + <p> + Then, dropping his voice to a hoarse whisper, he said: “That wasn't what + brought me back, though. It was the vow. You can't think what a thing the + vow is until you've broken it. It's like a hot iron searing your very + soul, and if you were dying and at the farthest ends of the earth, and you + had to crawl on your hands and knees, you would come back——” + </p> + <p> + He would have said more, but an attack of coughing silenced him, and when + it was over there was a sound of some one moving in the house. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the Father,” said John. “Our voices have wakened him.” + </p> + <p> + Paul struggled to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “It's only a life of penance and suffering you've come back to, my poor + lad.” + </p> + <p> + “That's nothing—nothing at all—But are you sure you think I + did everything?” + </p> + <p> + “You did what you could. Are you going somewhere?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to the Father.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, my lad!” + </p> + <p> + “And God bless you too, brother!” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, by the order of the Superior, John Storm, with the + help of Brother Andrew and the Father Minister, carried Brother Paul to + his cell. The bell had been rung for Lauds, and going up the stairs they + passed the brothers coming down to service. News of Paul's return had gone + through the house like a cutting wind, and certain of the brothers who had + gathered in groups on the landings were whispering together, as if the + coming back had been a shameful thing which cast discredit on all of them. + It wasn't love of rule that had brought the man home again, but broken + health and the want of a bed to die upon! Thus they talked under their + breath, unconscious of the secret operation of their own hearts. In a + monastery, as elsewhere, failure is the worst disgrace. + </p> + <p> + John Storm returned to the hall with a firm step and eyes full of + resolution. Hardly answering the brothers, who plied him with questions, + he pushed through them with long strides, and, taking the key of the outer + gate from the place in the alcove where he had left it, he turned toward + the Father's room. + </p> + <p> + The day had dawned, and through the darkness which was lifting in the + little room he could see the Father rising from his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Father!” he cried in an excited voice, and his words, like his breath, + came in gusts. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, my son?” + </p> + <p> + “Take this key back again. The world is calling me, and I can not trust + myself at the door any longer. Put me under the rule of silence and + solitude, and shut me up in a cell, or I shall break my obedience and run + away as sure as heaven is over us!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. + </h2> + <p> + Glory awoke on New Year's morning with a little hard lump at her heart, + and thought: “How foolish! Am I to give up all my cherished dreams because + one man is a scoundrel?” + </p> + <p> + The struggle might be bitter, but she would not give in. London was the + mother of genius. If she destroyed she created also. It was only the weak + and the worthless she cast away. The strong she made stronger, the great + she made greater. “O God, give me the life I love!” she thought; “give me + a chance; only let me begin—no matter how, no matter where!” + </p> + <p> + She remembered her impulse of the night before to follow Brother Paul, and + the little hard lump at her heart grew bitter. John Storm had gone from + her, forgotten her, left her to take care of herself. Very well, so be it! + What was the use of thinking? “I hate to be sentimental,” she thought. + </p> + <p> + If Aggie called on Sunday night she would go with her, no matter if it was + beginning at the bottom. Others had begun there, and what right had she to + expect to begin anywhere else? For the future she would take the world on + its own terms and force it to give way. She would conquer this great cruel + London, and yet remain a good girl in spite of all. + </p> + <p> + Such was the mood in which she came down to breakfast, and the first thing + that met her eyes was a letter from home. At that her face burned for a + moment and her breath came in gusts, but she put the letter into her + pocket unopened and tossed her head a little and laughed. “I hate to be so + sensitive,” she thought, and then she began to tell Mrs. Jupe what she + intended to do. + </p> + <p> + “The clubs!” cried Mrs. Jupe. “I thought you didn't tyke to the shop + because you fancied yerself above present company. But the foreign clubs! + My gracious!” + </p> + <p> + The hissing of Mrs. Jupe's taunting voice followed her about all that day, + and late at night, when they were going to bed and the streets were quiet, + and there was only the jingle of a passing hansom or a drunken shout or + the screech of a concertina, she could hear it again from the other side + of the plaster partition, interrupted occasionally by the sound of Mr. + Jupe's attempts to excuse and apologize for her. No matter! Anything to + escape from the atmosphere of that woman's house, to be free of her and + quit of her forever! + </p> + <p> + Toward eight o'clock on Sunday evening she went up to her bedroom to put + on her hat and ulster, and being alone there, and waiting for Aggie, she + could not help but open her letter from home. + </p> + <p> + “Sunday next is your birthday, my dear one,” wrote the parson, “so we send + you our love and greetings. This being the first of your twenty-one that + you have spent from home, I will be thinking of you all the day through, + and when night comes, and I smoke a pipe by the study fire, I know I shall + be leaving the blind up that I may see the evening star and remember the + happy birthdays long ago, when somebody, who was so petted and spoiled, + used to say she had just come down from it, having dressed herself in some + strange and grand disguises, and told us she was Phonodoree the fairy. You + will be better employed than that, Glory, and as long as my dear one is + well and happy and prosperous in the great city where she so loves to be——” + </p> + <p> + The candle was shaking in Glory's hands, and the little half-lit bedroom + seemed to be blinking in and out. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Anna had added a postscript: “Glad to hear you are enjoying yourself + in London, but rather alarmed at your frequent mention of theatres. Take + care you don't go too often, child, and mind you send us the name of the + vicar of the parish you are living in, for I certainly think grandfather + ought to write to him.” + </p> + <p> + To this again there was a footnote by Aunt Rachel: “You say nothing of Mr. + Drake nowadays. Is he one of Mrs. Jupe's visitors? And is it he who takes + you to theatres?” + </p> + <p> + Then there was a New Year's card enclosed, having a picture of an Eastern + shepherd at the head of his flock of sheep and bearing the inscription, + “Follow in his footsteps.” + </p> + <p> + But the hissing sound of Mrs. Jupe's voice came up from below, and Glory's + tears were dried in an instant. On going downstairs, she found Aggie in + her mock sealskin and big black feathers sitting in the parlour at the + back of the shop, and Mrs. Jupe talking to her in whispers, with an + appearance of knowledge and familiarity. She caught the confused look of + the one and the stealthy glances of the other, and the hard lump at her + heart grew harder. + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” said Glory, and a few minutes afterward the girls were walking + toward Soho. The little chapels in the quieter streets were dropping out + their driblets of people and the lights in the church windows were being + extinguished one by one. Aggie had recovered her composure, and was + talking of Charlie as she skipped along with a rapid step, swinging her + stage-box by her side. Charlie was certain to be at one of the clubs, and + he would be sure to see them home. He wasn't out of his time yet, and that + was why her father wouldn't allow him about. But he was in an office at a + foundry, and his people lived in a house, and perhaps one of these days—— + </p> + <p> + “Did you say that some of the people who are on the stage now began at the + clubs?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Plenty, my dear. There's Betty Bellman for one. She was at a club in Old + Compton Street when Mr. Sefton found her out.” + </p> + <p> + Aggie had to “work a turn” at each of three clubs that night, and the + girls were now at the door of the first of them. It stood at the corner of + a reputable square, and was like any ordinary house on the outside. But + people were coming and going constantly, and the doorkeeper was kept + opening and closing the door. In the middle of the hall a clerk stood at a + desk, having a great book in front of him, and making a show of + challenging everybody as he entered. He recognised Aggie as an artiste, + but passed Glory also on the payment of twopence and the signing of her + name in the book. + </p> + <p> + The dining-room of the house had been converted into a bar, with counter + and stillage, and after the girls had crushed through the crowds that + stood there they came into a large and shabby chamber, which had the + appearance of having been built over the space which had once been the + backyard. This room had neither windows nor skylights; its walls were + decorated with portraits of Garibaldi and Victor Emanuel in faded colours, + and there was a stage and proscenium at its farther end. + </p> + <p> + It was an Italian club that met there on Sunday nights, and some two or + three hundred hairdressers and restaurant-keepers of swarthy complexion + sat in groups at little round tables with their wives and sweethearts + (chiefly English women), smoking and drinking and laughing at the + performance on the stage. + </p> + <p> + Aggie went down to her dressing-room under the floor, and Glory sat at a + table with a yellow-haired lady and a dark-eyed man. A negro without the + burnt cork was twanging a banjo and cracking the jokes of the corner-man. + </p> + <p> + “That's my style—a merry touch-and-go,” said the lady. And then + glancing at Glory, “Singing to-night, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + Glory shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Thort you might be a pro' p'rhaps. Use ter be myself when I was in the + bally at the Lane. Married now, my dear; but I likes to come of a Sunday + night when the kids is got to bed.” + </p> + <p> + Then Aggie danced a skirt dance, and there were shouts of applause for + her, and she came back and danced again. When she reappeared in jacket and + hat, and with her stage-box in her hand, the girls crushed their way out. + Going through the bar they were invited to drink by several of the men who + were standing there, but they got into the streets at last. + </p> + <p> + “They're rather messy, those bars,” said Aggie; “but managers like you to + come round and tyke something after you've done your turn—if it's + only a cup of cawfy.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like this life?” said Glory, taking a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, awfully!” said Aggie. + </p> + <p> + Their next visit was to a Swiss club, which did not greatly differ from + the Italian one, except that the hall was more shabby, and that the + audience consisted of French and Swiss waiters and skittish young English + milliners. The girls had taken their hats and cloaks off and sat dressed + like dolls in white muslin with long streamers of bright ribbon. A + gentleman sang the “Postman's Knock,” with the character accompaniment of + a pot hat and a black-edged envelope, a lady sang “Maud” in silk tights + and a cloak, Aggie danced her skirt dance, and then the floor was cleared + for a ball. + </p> + <p> + “They're going to dance the Swiss dance,” said Aggie, “and the M. C. wants + me to tyke a place; but I hate these fellows to be hugging me. Will you be + my partner, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—just for a minute or two,” said Glory, with nervous gaiety. + And then the dance began. + </p> + <p> + It proved to be a musical version of odd man out, and Glory soon found + herself being snapped up by other partners and addressed familiarly by the + waiters and their women. She could feel the moisture of their hands and + smell the oil of their hair, and a feeling like a spasm of physical pain + came over her. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's getting lyte,” said Aggie, and they crushed through the crowded + bar and out into the street. + </p> + <p> + The twanging of the fiddles, the thud of the dancing, and the peals of + coarse laughter followed them from the stifling atmosphere within, and + Glory felt sick and faint. + </p> + <p> + “Do you say that managers of good places call at these clubs sometimes?” + </p> + <p> + “Often,” said Aggie, and she hummed a music-hall tune as she skipped and + tripped along. + </p> + <p> + The streets, which had been dark and quiet when they arrived in Soho, were + now ablaze with lights in every window, and noisy with people on every + pavement. The last club they had to visit was a German one, and as they + came near it they saw that a man was standing at the door bareheaded and + looking out for somebody. + </p> + <p> + “It's Charlie,” said Aggie with a little jump of joy. But when they came + up to him a scowl darkened his dark face, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “Lyte as usyal! Two of the bloomin' turns not come, and me looking up and + dahn the bloomin' street for you every minute and more!” + </p> + <p> + The girl's eyes blinked as if he had struck her, but she only tossed her + head and stiffened her under lip, and said: “Jawing again, are ye? I'd + chuck it for once, Charlie, if it was only for sake of company.” + </p> + <p> + With that she disappeared to the dressing-room, and Charlie took charge of + Glory, crushed a way for her through the refreshment room, offered her a + “glaws of somethink,” and with an obvious pride of possession introduced + her to admiring acquaintances as “a friend o' mine.” “Like yer style, + Charlie,” said one of them. “Oh, yus! Dare say!” said Charlie. + </p> + <p> + The proscenium was surmounted by the German and English flags intertwined, + the walls were adorned with oleograph portraits of the Kaiser, his father + and grandfather, Bismarck and Von Moltke, and the audience consisted + largely of lively young German Jews and Jewesses in evening dress, some + Polish Jews, and a sprinkling of other foreigners. + </p> + <p> + During Aggie's turn Glory was conscious that two strangers out of another + world altogether had entered the club and were standing at the back. + </p> + <p> + “Toffs,” said Charlie, looking at them over her shoulder, and then, + answering to himself the meaning of their looks, “No, my luds! 'Tain't the + first we've seen of sech!” + </p> + <p> + Then Aggie came up with an oily person in a flowered waistcoat and said, + “This is my friend, guv'nor, and she wouldn't mind doing a turn if you + asked her.” + </p> + <p> + “If de miss vill oblige,” began the oily one, and then the blood rushed to + Glory's face, and before she knew what else had happened, her hat and + ulster were in Aggie's hands and she was walking up the steps to the + stage. + </p> + <p> + There was some applause when she went on, but she was in a dazed condition + and it all seemed to be taking place a hundred miles away. She heard her + own voice saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, with your kind permission I will + endeavour to give you an imitation——” and something more. Down + to that moment her breath had been coming and going in hot gasps, and she + had felt a dryness in her throat; but every symptom of nervousness + suddenly disappeared, and she threw up her head like a charger in battle. + </p> + <p> + Then she sang. It was only a common street song, and everybody had heard + it a thousand times. She sang “And her golden hair was hanging down her + back” after the manner of a line of factory girls going home from work at + night. Arm-in-arm, decked in their Vandyke hats, slashed with red ribbons + and crowned with ostrich feathers, with their free step, their shrill + voices—they were there before everybody's eyes, everybody could see + them, everybody could recognise them, and before the end of the first + verse there were shouts and squeals of laughter. + </p> + <p> + Glory felt dizzy yet self-possessed; she gave a little audible laugh while + she stood bowing between the verses. In a few minutes the song was + finished and the people were stamping, whistling, uttering screeching + cat-calls, and shouting “Brayvo!” But Glory was sitting at the foot of the + stage by this time with a face contorted as in physical pain. After the + first thrill of success the shame of it all came over her and she saw how + low she had fallen, and felt horrified and afraid. The clamour, the + clapping of hands, the vulgar faces, the vulgar laughter, the vulgar song, + Sunday night, her own birthday! It all passed before her like the + incidents in some nightmare, and at the back of it came other memories—Glenfaba, + the sweet and simple household, the old parson smoking by the study fire + and looking up at the evening star, and then John Storm and the church + chimes at Bishopsgate! One moment she sat there with her burning face, + staring helplessly before her, while people crowded round to shake hands + with her and cried into her ears above the deafening tumult, “You'll have + to tyke another turn, dear”; and then she burst into passionate weeping. + </p> + <p> + “Stand avay! De lady's not fit to sing again,” said some one, and she + opened her eyes. + </p> + <p> + It was one of the two gentlemen who had been standing at the back. + </p> + <p> + “Ach Gott! Is it you? Don't you know me, nurse?” + </p> + <p> + It was Mr. Koenig, the organist. + </p> + <p> + “My gracious! Vot are you doing here, my child? Two monts ago I haf ask + for you at de hospital, and haf write to de matron, but you vere gone. + Since den I haf look for you all over London. Vhere do you lif?” + </p> + <p> + Glory told him, and he wrote down the address. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh! A genius, and lif in a tobacco shop! My vife vill call on you and + fetch you avay. She is a goot woman, and vhatever she tell you to do you + must do it; but not musical and clever same like as you. Bless mine soul! + Singing in a Sunday club! Do you know, my child, you haf a voice, and + talents, great talents! Vants training—yes. But vhat vould you haf? + Here am I, Carl Koenig! I speak ver' bad de Englisch, but I know ver' goot + to teach music. I vill teach you same like I teach oder ladies who pay me + many dollare. Do you know vhat I am?” + </p> + <p> + Yes, she knew what he was—he was the organist at All Saints', + Belgravia. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! I am a composer as veil. I write songs, and all your countrymen and + countryvomen sing dem. I haf a choral company, too, and it is for dat I + vant you. I go to de first houses in de land, de lords, de ministers, de + princes. You shall come vith me. Your voice is soprano—no, + mezzo-soprano—and it vill grow. I vill pitch it, and vhen it is + ready I vill bring you out. But now get away from dis place and naivare + come back, or I vill be more angry as before.” + </p> + <p> + Then Glory rose, and he led her to the door. Her heart felt big and her + eyes were glistening. Aggie was in the refreshment-room. Having finished + for the night, the girl had resumed her outdoor costume without removing + her make-up, and was laughing merrily among a group of men and playing + them off against Charlie, who was still in the sulks and drinking at the + bar. When Glory appeared, Aggie fidgeted with her glove and said, “Aren't + you going to see us home, Charlie?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Charlie. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going to?” + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere as you can come.” + </p> + <p> + Aggie's eyes watered, and she wrenched a button off, but she only laughed + and answered, “Don't think as we're throwing ourselves at <i>your</i> + head, my man! We only wanted to <i>know</i>. Ta-ta!” + </p> + <p> + It was now midnight, and the streets were thin of people, but sounds of + music and dancing came from nearly every open window and door. + </p> + <p> + Aggie was crying. “That's the worst of the clubs,” she said, “they lead + 'em to the gambling hells. And then a young man always knows when he can + tyke advantage.” + </p> + <p> + As they returned past the Swiss club somebody who was being thrown out + into the street was shouting in a gurgling voice, “Let go o' my throat or + I'll corpse ye!” And farther on two or three girls in their teens, with + their arms about the necks of twice as many men, were reeling along the + pavement and singing in a tuneless wail. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. + </h2> + <p> + Toward the middle of Lent the Society of the Holy Gethsemane was visited + by its ecclesiastical Visitor. This was the Bishop of the diocese, a + liberal-minded man and not a very rigid ecclesiastic, abrupt, brusque, + businesslike, and a good administrator. When the brothers had gathered in + the community room, he took from the Superior the leathern-bound volume + containing the rule of the Brotherhood and read aloud the text of it. + </p> + <p> + “And now, gentlemen,” he said, “whether I approve of your rule or not is a + matter with which we have no concern at present. My sole duty is to see + that it is lawfully administered. Are you satisfied with the + administration of it and willing to remain under its control?” + </p> + <p> + There was only one response from the brothers—they were entirely + satisfied. + </p> + <p> + The Bishop rose with a smile and bowed to the brothers, and they began to + leave the room. + </p> + <p> + “There are two of my people whom you have not yet seen,” said the Father. + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” + </p> + <p> + “In their cells.” + </p> + <p> + “Why in their cells?” + </p> + <p> + “One of them is ill; the other is under the rule of silence and solitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us visit them,” said the Bishop, and they began to ascend the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “I may not agree with your theory of the religious life, Father, but when + I see your people giving up the world and its comforts, its joys and + possessions, its ties of blood and affection——” + </p> + <p> + They had reached the topmost story, and the Father had paused to recover + breath. “This cell to the right,” said he, “is occupied by a lay brother + who was tempted by the Evil One to a grievous act of disobedience, and the + wrath of God has fallen on him. But Satan has overreached himself for + once, and by that very act grace has triumphed. Not a member of our + community rejoices more in the blessed sacrament, and when I place the + body of our Lord——” + </p> + <p> + “May we go in to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; he is dying of lung disease, but you shall see with what + patience he possesses his soul.” + </p> + <p> + Brother Paul was sitting before a small fire in an arm-chair padded with + pillows, holding in his dried-up hands a heavy crucifix which was + suspended from his heck. + </p> + <p> + “How lightsome and cosy we are up here!” said the Bishop. “A long way up, + certainly, but no doubt you get everything you require.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” said Paul. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say the brothers are very good to you—they usually are so to + the weak and ailing in a monastery.” + </p> + <p> + “Too good, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you see a doctor occasionally?” + </p> + <p> + “Three times a week, and if he would only let me escape from an evil and + troublesome world——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! It's not right to talk like that, my son. Whatever happens, it is + our duty to live, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I've lost all there was to live for, and besides——” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is nothing you wish for?” said the Bishop. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but death,” said Paul, and lifting the crucifix he carried it to + his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God we are born to die!” said the Bishop, and they stepped back to + the corridor and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “This next cell,” said the Father, “is occupied by such a one as you were + thinking of—one who was born to possess the world and to achieve its + sounding triumphs, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Has he given it up entirely?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he young?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite young, and he has left the world, not as Augustine did, after + learning by bitter experience the deceitfulness of sin——” + </p> + <p> + “Then why is he here?” + </p> + <p> + “He can not trust himself yet. He feels the inward strivings and struggles + of our rebellious nature and——” + </p> + <p> + “Then his solitude and silence are voluntary?” + </p> + <p> + “Now they are. See,” said the Father, and stooping to the floor he picked + up a key that lay at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean?” + </p> + <p> + “He locks himself in and pushes the key under the door.” + </p> + <p> + When they entered the cell John Storm was standing by the window in a + stream of morning sunlight, looking out on the world below with fixed and + yearning eyes. + </p> + <p> + “This is our Visitor,” said the Father. “The rule of silence is relaxed in + his case.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I not seen you before?” said the Bishop. + </p> + <p> + “I think not, Father,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name, and where did you live before you came here?” + </p> + <p> + John told him. + </p> + <p> + “Then I have both seen and heard you. But I perceive that the world has + gone on a little since you left it—your canon is an archdeacon now, + and one of the chaplains to the Queen as well. How long have you been in + the Brotherhood?” + </p> + <p> + “Since the 14th of August.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long have you kept your cell?” + </p> + <p> + “Since the octave of Epiphany.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is Lent—rather a long penance, Father.” + </p> + <p> + “I have often urged our dear brother——” began the Father. + </p> + <p> + “You carry your fastings and prayers too far, Mr. Storm,” said the Bishop. + He was picking up one by one some black-letter books that were lying on + the table and on the bed. “I know that divines in all ages tell us that + the body is evil, and that its desires and appetites must be eradicated. + But they also teach us that the perfect Christian character is the + blending of the two lives, the life of Nature and the life of grace. Don't + despise your humanity, my son. Your Master did not despise it. He came + down from heaven that he might live and work among the sinful brotherhood + of man. And don't pray for death, or fast as if you wished for it. You + would have no right to do that even if you were like your poor neighbour + next door, whom Death smiles on and beckons to repose. But you are young + and you are strong. Who knows what good work your heavenly Father keeps + waiting for you yet?” + </p> + <p> + John had returned to the window and was looking out with vacant eyes. + </p> + <p> + “But all this is beside my present business,” said the Bishop. “There is + nothing you wish to complain of?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “You are content to live in this house, under the laws and statutes of + this society and in voluntary obedience to its Superior?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough.” + </p> + <p> + The Bishop was leaving the cell, when his eye was arrested by some writing + in pencil on the wall. It ran, “9th of November—Lord Mayor's Day”; + and under it were short lines such as a prisoner makes when he keeps a + reckoning. + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of this date?” said the Bishop. + </p> + <p> + John was silent, but the Father answered with a smile: “That is the date + of his vow, my lord. It is part of the discipline of his life of grace to + keep count of the days of his novitiate, so eager is he for the time when + he may dedicate his whole life to God.” + </p> + <p> + Back at the head of the stairs the Father paused again and said, “Listen!” + </p> + <p> + There was the sound as of a trembling hand turning the key in the lock of + the door they had shut behind them, and at the next moment the key itself + came out of the aperture under it. + </p> + <p> + When the door closed on the Bishop and John Storm was alone in his cell, + one idea was left with him—the idea of work. He had tried everything + else, and everything had failed. + </p> + <p> + He had tried solitude. On asking to be shut up in a cell, he had said to + himself: “The thought of Glory is a temptation of my unquickened and + unspiritual nature. It has already betrayed me into an act of cowardice + and inhumanity, and it will drive me out into the world and fling me back + again, as it drove out and flung back Brother Paul.” But the result of his + solitude was specious and deceitful. As pictures seem to float before the + eyes after the eyelids are closed, so his past life, now that it was over, + seemed to rise up before him with awful distinctness. Sitting alone in his + cell, every event of his life with Glory passed before him in review, and + harassed him with pitiless condemnation. Why had he failed to realize the + essential difference of temperament between himself and that joyous + creature? Why had he hesitated to gratify her natural and innocent love of + mere life? Why had he done this? Why had he not done that? If Glory were + lost, if the wicked and merciless world had betrayed her, the fault was + his, and God would surely punish him. Thus did solitude enervate his soul + by frightening it, and the temptation he had hoped to vanquish became the + more strong and tyrannical. + </p> + <p> + He had tried reading. The Fathers told him that God allowed ascetics to + keep the keys of their nature in their own hands; that they had only to + think of woman as more bitter than death, and of her beauty as a cause of + perdition, and that if any woman's face tormented them they were to + picture it to the eye of the mind as old and wrinkled, defaced by disease, + and even the prey of the worm. He tried to think of Glory as the Fathers + directed, but when darkness fell and he lay on his bed, with the first + dream of the night the strong powers of Nature that had no mind to + surrender swept down the pitiful bulwarks of religion, and Glory was + smiling upon him in her youth, her beauty, her sweetness, her humour, and + all the grace of her countless gifts. + </p> + <p> + He had tried fasting. Three times a day Brother Andrew brought him his + food, and twice a day, when the lay brother had left him, he opened the + window and spread the food on the sill for the birds to take. But the + results of his fasting were the reverse of his expectations. At one moment + he was uplifted by strong emotions, at the next moment he was in collapse. + Visions began to pass before him. His father's face tormented him + constantly, and sometimes he was conscious of the face of his mother, + though he had never known her. But above all and through all there came + the face of Glory. Fasting had only extended his dreams about her. He was + dreaming both by day and by night now, and Glory was with him always. + </p> + <p> + He had tried prayer. Hitherto he had said his Offices regularly, but now + he would say special prayers as well. To get the victory over his lawless + and rebellious nature he would turn his eyes to the mother of the Lord. + But when he tried to fix his mind on Mary there was nothing to answer to + it. All was shadowy and impalpable. There was only a vague, empty cloud + before his eyes, until suddenly a luminous face glided into the vacant + place, and it was full of tenderness, of sweetness, of charm, of pity and + womanly love—but it was the face of Glory. + </p> + <p> + Despair laid hold of him. His attempts to overcome Nature were clearly + rejected by the Almighty. Winter passed with its foggy days. The Father + wished him to return to the ordinary life of the community, yet he begged + to be allowed to remain. + </p> + <p> + But the spring came and diffused its joy throughout all Nature. He + listened to the leaves, he watched the birds threading their way in the + clear air, he caught glimpses of the yellow flowers, and strained his eyes + for the green country beyond. The young birds began to take wing, and one + little sparrow came hopping into his room as often as he opened his window + in the morning and played about his feet like a mouse, and then was gone + to the mother bird that called to it from the tree. + </p> + <p> + Little by little hope grew to impatience, and impatience rose to fever + heat; but he remembered his vow, and, to put himself out of temptation, he + locked the door of his cell and pushed the key through the aperture under + it. But he could not lock the door of his soul, and his old trouble came + up again with the throb of a stronger and fresher life. Every morning when + he awoke he thought of Glory. Where was she now? What had become of her by + this time? He wrote on the wall the date of her disappearance from the + hospital—“9th of November; Lord Mayor's Day”—and tried to keep + pace in his mind with the chances of her fate. “I am guilty of a folly,” + he thought. The pride of his reason revolted against what he was doing. + Nevertheless, he knew full well it would be the same to-morrow, and the + next day, and the next year, for his human passions would not yield, and + his vow still clutched him as with fangs. + </p> + <p> + He was standing one morning by the window looking through an opening + between high buildings to the river, with its hay barges gliding down the + glistening water-way, and its little steamers with their spirals of smoke + ascending, when everything in the world began in a moment to bear another + moral interpretation. The lesson of life was work. Man could not exist + without it. If he departed from that condition, no matter how much he + fasted and meditated and prayed, he was useless and miserable and + depraved. + </p> + <p> + Then the lock turned in the door of his cell and the Father and the Bishop + entered. When they were gone he felt suffocated by their praises of his + piety, and asked himself, “What am I doing here?” He was a hypocrite. Ten + thousand other men whom the Church called saints had been hypocrites + before him, and as they paced their cloisters they had asked themselves + the same question. But the mighty hand of the Church was over him still, + and with trembling fingers he turned the key again and pushed it under the + door. Then he knew that he was a coward also, and that religion had + deprived him of his will, of his manhood, and enervated his soul itself. + </p> + <p> + Brother Paul was moving about in the adjoining cell. The lay brother had + become very weak; his step was slow, his feet dragged along the floor; his + breath was audible and sometimes his cough was long and raucous. John had + heard these sounds every day and had tried not to listen, but now he + strained his ears to hear. A new thought had come to him: he would ask to + be allowed to nurse Brother Paul; that should be his work, for work alone + could save him. + </p> + <p> + Next morning he leaped up from sleep at the first syllable of “Benedicamus + Domino,” and cried, “Father!” But when the door opened in answer to his + call it was the Father Minister who entered. The Superior had gone to give + a Retreat to a sisterhood in York, and would be absent until the end of + Lent. John looked at the hard face of the deputy, the very mirror of its + closed and frozen soul, and he could say nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Is it anything that I can do for you?” said the Father Minister. + </p> + <p> + “No—that is to say—no, no,” said John. + </p> + <p> + When he opened his window that day he could hear the Lenten services in + the church. The prayers, the responses, the psalms, and the hymns woke to + fresh life the memory of things long past, and for the first time he + became oppressed with a great loneliness. The near neighbourhood of + Brother Paul intensified that loneliness, and at length he asked for an + indulgence and spoke to the Father Minister again. + </p> + <p> + “Brother Paul is ill; let me attend to him,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The Father Minister shook his head. “The brother gets all he wants. He + does not wish for constant attendance.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is a dying man, and somebody should be with him always.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor says nothing can be done for him. He may live months. But if + he is dying, let us leave him to meditate on the happiness and glory of + another world.” + </p> + <p> + John made no further struggle. Another door had closed on him. But it was + not necessary to go to Brother Paul that he might be with him always. The + spiritual eye could see everything. Listening to the sounds in the + adjoining cell, it was the same at length as if the wall between them had + fallen down and the two rooms were one. Whatever Brother Paul did John + seemed to see, whatever he said in his hours of pain John seemed to hear, + and when he lifted his scuttle of coal from the place at the door where + the lay brother left it, John's hand seemed to bear up the weight. + </p> + <p> + It was a poor, pathetic folly, but it brought the comfort of company, and + John thought with a pang of the time when he had wished to be separated + from Paul, and had all but asked for a cell elsewhere. Paul had a fire, + and John could hear him build and light and stir it; and sometimes when + this was done he could sit down himself before his own empty grate on his + own side of the wall and fancy they were good comrades sitting side by + side. + </p> + <p> + As the day passed he thought that Brother Paul on his part also was + touched by the same sense of company. His silence at certain moments, his + half-articulate salutations, his repetition of the sounds that John + himself made, seemed to be the dumb expression of a sense that, in spite + of the wall that divided them, and the rule of silence and solitude that + separated them on John's side, they were, nevertheless, together. + </p> + <p> + Brother Paul's cough grew rapidly worse, and at last it burst into a fit + so long and violent as to seem as if it would never end. John held his + breath and listened. “He'll suffocate,” he thought; “he'll never live + through it!” But the spasm passed, and there was a prolonged hush, a dead + stillness, that was not broken by so much as the sound of a breath. Was he + gone? By a sudden impulse, in the agony of his suspense, John stretched + out his hand and knocked three times on the wall. + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence, and then faintly, slowly, and irregularly three + other knocks came back to him. + </p> + <p> + Paul had understood, and John shouted in his joy. But even on top of his + relief came his religious fears. Had he broken the rule of silence? Were + they guilty of a sin? + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, for many days thereafter, though they knew it was a fault, + in this vague and dumb and feeble fashion they communicated constantly. On + going to bed they rapped “Good-night”: on rising for the day they rapped + “Good-morning.” They rapped when the bell rang for midday service, and + again when the singing came up through the courtyard. And sometimes they + rapped from sympathy and sometimes from pity, and sometimes from mere + human loneliness and the love of company. + </p> + <p> + Thus did these exiles from life, struggling to live under the eye of God + in obedience to their earthly vow, try to cheer their crushed and fettered + souls, and to comfort each other like imprisoned children. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. + </h2> + <p> + “The Priory, St. John's Wood, London. + </p> + <p> + “Behold, all men and women at Glenfaba, I have made one further change in + my rôle of female Wandering Jew! You have to think of Glory now, dear + people, in a nice house in St. John's Wood, though there is no wood + anywhere visible except the park, where they keep all the wild beasts in + London—all that go on four legs, you know. The master of the mansion + is Mr. Carl Koenig, a dear old hippopotamus who is five-feet-nothing in + his boots, and has piercing black eyes and an electroplated mustache. He + is a sort of an English-German-Dutch-Polish musician. When he talks of + himself as an organist he is always a little John Bull, being F. R. C. O. + and lots of things besides; when he speaks of 'Vaterland' he is a German; + when he mentions the sea he is a Dutchman; and when he is in good spirits + (or they are in him) he sings 'Poland is not lost forever!' all over the + house until you sometimes wish it were. + </p> + <p> + “His wife is an Englishwoman, about forty or more, with big, moist, doggy + eyes that give you an idea of slave-humility, and an unappreciated and + undeveloped soul. There never were two married folk less alike, she being + one of those silent creatures who come into a room and sit and listen and + never speak, except to give instructions to the maids, while he is always + cackling like an old hen who can never lay an egg without letting the + whole world know all about it. They have two female servants—both + beautiful Cockneys—besides a boy in the garden, and a parrot that + holds forth all over the place; and their house is the rendezvous of all + kinds and conditions of great people, for Mr. Koenig himself is a sort of + Gideon's lamp among 'pros' of nearly every order. + </p> + <p> + “And now you want to know how I come to be here. You are to learn then + that Mr. Koenig happened to be one of my patients in the hospital, he + having gone there for a slight operation, and I having helped to nurse him + through what he calls his 'operatic cure.' In the course of that ordeal he + had music of a less excruciating kind sometimes, it seems, and after his + return home he searched for me all over London on account of my voice, and + finding me unexpectedly at last he sent his wife to Mrs. Jupe's to fetch + me, and—and here I am in a dainty little dimity room, whose walls + are covered with portraits of well-known singers, violinists, pianists, + and composers, with their affectionate inscriptions underneath. + </p> + <p> + “But you want to learn why I am here. Well, you must know that Mr. Koenig + (although a foreign musician) is organist of All Saints', Belgravia, where + they sing a solo anthem at nearly every Sunday morning service; and having + had various disappointments at the hands of vocal soloists from the Opera, + whose 'professional engagements suddenly intervened,' he conceived the + audacious idea of 'intervening' a woman to do their duty permanently. So + this is my position in the church at which John Storm used to be curate, + and once a week I pipe that his old enemy the canon may play. But as that + good man is of St. Paul's opinion about women holding their tongues in the + synagogue, and is blest with just enough ear to know a contralto from a + corn-crake, I have to be hidden away behind a screen in order that his + reverence may have all the fun to himself of believing me to be a boy. + </p> + <p> + “So you see, my dearies, you needn't be anxious about me, 'at all at all', + seeing that I am living in this atmosphere of art and the odour of + sanctity, and that I have kept only one tiny little thing back, and I am + going to tell you that now. You were afraid that I might go too often to + the theatre, Aunt Anna. Never mind, auntie, I shall not be going so very + often now, and in proof thereof permit me to introduce myself in my future + style and character—Miss Glory Quayle, the eminent social + entertainer! You don't know what that is, dear people? It is quite simple + and innocent, nevertheless. I am to go to the houses of smart people when + they give their grand parties and sing and recite, and so forth. Nothing + wrong, you see—only what I used to do at Glenfaba. + </p> + <p> + “You must know that, just as in the country the men go to the smithy when + they have nothing more pressing on hand than to settle the affairs of the + universe, and the women to the mangle-house when they have to mangle other + things besides clothes, so in the towns the poor rich people have their + own particular diversion, which they call their 'At Homes.' Mr. Drake used + to tell me they were terrible Tower-of-Babel concerns, at which everybody + talked at once, and all the tongues in the place went 'click-clack, world + without end.' But they must be perfectly charming for all that; and when I + think of the dresses and the diamonds and the titles as long as your + breath—oh, dear! oh, dear! + </p> + <p> + “I shall see it all soon, I suppose, for to supply the place of the hammer + and the anvil the smart folks always add musical accompaniment to the + confusion of tongues, and Mr. Koenig, who has a choral company, goes to + the cream of the cream of such gatherings, and sings and plays from Grieg + and Schumann, and Liszt and Wagner, and Chopin and Paderewski, and the + place intended for me in this grand organization would appear to be that + of jester to my lords and ladies. '<i>Ach Gott!</i>' says Mr. Koenig, who + 'speaks ver' bad de Englisch,' 'your great people vant de last new ting. + One lady she say to me, “Dear Mr. Koenig, I tink I shall not ask you dis + season. I hear you everyvheres I go to, and I get so tired of peoples.” + But vhen I takes anoder wis me I am a new beesness. You shall sing and + recite your leetle funny tings. Your great people tink dey loof music, but + dey loof better to laugh. “For mercy's sake make dem laugh, Mr. Koenig”—dat's + vhat a great man say to me. But, my gootness, how can I? I am a musician, + I am a composer, I am an arteeste!' + </p> + <p> + “For this high and noble office I have been going through a purgatory of + preparation in which I have sometimes hardly known whether I was a + hurdy-gurdy or an explosion of cats, and the future female jester has even + been known to lie down on the floor and cry in her dumps of despair or + some such devilry. However, Mr. Koenig begins to believe that I am + passable, and my first appearance is to be made immediately after Lent, at + the house of the Home Secretary, where it is not improbable, dear Aunt + Rachel, that I may meet Mr. Drake, although that is no part of my + programme. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I shall have to look charming in any case, and I am already + busy with my dress. It is a black silk gown with a tight-fitting bodice. + The bodice has windbag sleeves, formed of shawl pieces of guipure lace, + and some lilies of the valley on the breast, finished with a waistband of + heliotrope velvet, and I am going to wear long black gloves all the way up + my arms, which are growing round and plump, and lovely enough for + anything. The skirt is my old one, and I got the lace for three-and-six, + so I am not ruining myself, you see; and though my hair is getting redder + than ever, red is the fashionable colour in London now, therefore I + sha'n't waste much money on dyes. + </p> + <p> + “But for all this brave exterior, when the time comes I know that down in + my heart I shall be terrified. It will be like the first dive of the year. + 'One plunge, Glory, my child,' and then over I'll go! I partly realize + already what it will be like by my experiences on Sunday evenings when the + celebrities come here after church, and Mr. Koenig exhibits me to admiring + friends and tells them how I brought him 'goot look,' and I overhear them + say, 'That girl will show them all something yet.' Oh, this London is + adorable, my dears, with its wit and fashion, and gaiety and luxury! and I + have concluded that to live in the world is the best thing one can do, + after all. Some people say hard things about it, and want to reform it, or + even to leave it altogether; but I love it! I love it! and think it just + charming! + </p> + <p> + “And now spring is here, and the world is lovely in its yellow and green. + It must be <i>urromassy</i> nice over yandher in the 'oilan' too, with the + primroses and the violets and the gorse in the glen. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I + can smell it all three hundred miles away! The lilacs will be out at + Glenfaba now, and Aunt Anna will be collecting her Easter eggs. Well—wait + a whilley, and I'll come to thee, my dears! + </p> + <p> + “Not a word from John Storm, of course. No doubt he is fighting with + shadows while other people are struggling with realities. They tell me + these Brotherhoods are common in the Church now, though most of them are + secret societies; but the more I think of that kind of religion the more + it looks like setting tasks to try faith, as if God were a coquettish + woman. That reminds me that Mr. Worldly-Wealthy-Wiseman is no longer a + canon, having got himself made archdeacon, and as such he looks more than + ever like a black Spanish cock, being clad, of course, in those funny + clothes, like the bishops, which always make one think their lordships + must be in doubt on getting up in the morning whether they ought to wear a + schoolboy's knickerbockers or a ballet-girl's skirt, so they settle the + difficulty by putting on both. For this reason I try to avoid him when on + duty at the church, lest I should be suddenly possessed of a devil and + behave badly to his face. But this being Lent, and there being special + preachers every day, it chanced on Sunday morning that I came upon three + of him all in a row, and oh, my gracious, Solomon in all his glory was not + arrayed like one of these! + </p> + <p> + “It is too bad, though, to think that men like John Storm can't find room + in the Church for the sole of their foot, while this archdemon is + flourishing in it like a green bay tree. Forgive me, grandfather; I can't + help it. But then the Church in the country doesn't seem the same as in + town. <i>There</i> you are somehow made to feel that man does a little and + God does all the rest, while <i>here</i> we reverse that order of things, + with the result that this seed of the Amalekite—but never mind! + </p> + <p> + “I went to the Zoo this morning. There was a lion shut up in a cage all by + himself. Such a solemn, splendid, silent fellow; I could have cried. + </p> + <p> + “But it is the witching hour of night, my daughter, and you must put + yourself to bed. 'Goot look!' + </p> + <p> + “Glory.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. + </h2> + <p> + In the middle of the night of Good Friday, John Storm was wakened by + noises in the adjoining cell. There seemed to be the voices of two men in + angry and violent altercation, the one threatening and denouncing, the + other protesting and supplicating. + </p> + <p> + “The girl is dead—isn't that proof enough?” said one voice. “It's a + lie! It's a false accusation!” said the other voice. “Paul, what are you + going to do?” “Put this bullet in your brain.” “But I'm innocent—I + take the Almighty to witness that I'm innocent. Put the pistol down. Help! + help!” “No use calling—there's nobody in the house.” “Mercy! mercy! + I haven't much money about me, but you shall have it all. Take everything—everything—and + if there's anything I can do to start you in life—I'm rich, Paul—I + have influence—only spare me!” “Scoundrel, do you think you can buy + me as you bought my sister?” “And if I did I was not the only one.” “Liar! + Tell that to herself when you meet her at the judgment!” “As-sassin!” “Too + late—you've met her!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm listened and understood. The two voices were one voice, which + was the voice of Brother Paul. The lay brother was delirious. His poor + broken brain was rambling in the ways of the past. He was re-enacting the + scene of his crime. + </p> + <p> + John hesitated. His impulse was to fly into Paul's room and lay hold of + him, that he might prevent him from doing himself any injury. But he + remembered the law of the community, that no member of it should go into + the cell of another under pain of grievous penance. And then there was the + rule of silence and solitude which had not yet been lifted away. + </p> + <p> + But monks are great sophists, and at the next moment John Storm had told + himself that it was not Brother Paul who was in the adjoining room, but + only his poor perishing body, labouring through the last sloughs of the + twilight land of death. Paul himself, his soul, his spirit, was far away. + Hence it could be no sin to go into the cell of one whose senses were not + there. + </p> + <p> + His own door was locked, but he scraped back the key and lit his candle, + and stepped into the passage. The voices were still loud in Paul's room, + but no one seemed to hear them. Not another sound broke the silence of the + sleeping house. The cell beyond Paul's was empty. It was Brother Andrew's + cell, and Andrew was at the door downstairs. + </p> + <p> + When John Storm entered the dark room, candle in hand, Brother Paul was + standing in the middle of the floor with one hand outstretched and a + ghastly and appalling smile upon his face. He was pale as death, his eyes + were ablaze, his forehead was streaming with perspiration, and he was + breathing from the depths of his chest. He wiped the dews from his brow + and said in a choking voice, “He has died as he lived—a liar and a + scoundrel!” + </p> + <p> + John took him by the hand and drew him to the bed, and, putting him to sit + there, he tried to soothe and comfort him. He was terrified at first by + the sound of his own voice, but the sophism that had served to bring him, + served to support him also, and he told himself it could be no breach of + the rule of silence to speak to one who was not there. The delirium of the + lay brother spent itself at length, and he fell into a deep sleep. + </p> + <p> + Next day, when Brother Andrew came to John's cell with the food, he began + to sing as if to himself while he bustled about the room. + </p> + <p> + “Brother Paul is sinking—he is sinking rapidly—Father Jerrold + has confessed him—he has taken the sacrament—and is very + patient.” + </p> + <p> + This, as if it had been a Gregorian chant, the great fellow had hit upon + as a means of communicating with John without breaking the rule and + committing sin. + </p> + <p> + John did not lock his door on the following night. On going to bed he + listened for the noises he had heard before, half fearing and yet half + wishing that he might hear them again. But he heard nothing, and toward + midnight he fell asleep. Something made him shudder, and he awoke with the + sensation of moonlight on his face. The moon was indeed shining, and its + sepulchral light was on a figure that stood by the foot of the bed. It was + Paul, with a livid face, murmuring his name in a voice almost as faint as + a breath. + </p> + <p> + John leaped up and put his arms about him. + </p> + <p> + “You are ill, brother—very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I am dying.” + </p> + <p> + “Help! help!” cried John, and he made for the door. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, brother, hush!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't care for rule. Rule is nothing in a case like this. And, + besides, it is an understood thing—— Help!” + </p> + <p> + “I implore you, I conjure you!” said Paul in a voice strangled by + weakness. “Let them leave us together a little longer. It was by my own + wish that I was left alone. I have something to say to you—something + to confess. I have to ask your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + In two strides John had reached the door, but he came back without opening + it. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my poor lad, what have you done to me?” + </p> + <p> + “When you let me out of the house to go in search of my sister——” + </p> + <p> + “That was long ago; we'll not talk of it now, brother.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can not die in peace without telling you. You remember that I had + something to say to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a threat. I was going to tell her that unless she gave up her way + of life I should find the man who had been the cause of it and follow him + up and kill him.” + </p> + <p> + “It was only a temptation of the devil, brother, and it is past; and now——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see what I was going to do? I was going to bring trouble and + disgrace upon you also as my comrade and accomplice. That's what a man + comes to when Satan——” + </p> + <p> + “But God willed it otherwise, brother; let us say no more about it.” + </p> + <p> + “You forgive me, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive? It is I who ought to ask for your forgiveness, and perhaps if I + told you everything——” + </p> + <p> + “There is something else. Listen! The Almighty is calling me; I have no + time to lose.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are so cold, brother! Lie on the bed, and I'll cover you with the + bedclothes. Oh, never fear; they sha'n't separate us again. If the Father + were at home—he is so good and tender-hearted—but no matter. + There, there!” + </p> + <p> + “You will despise and hate me—you who are so holy and brave, and + have given up everything and conquered the world, and even triumphed over + love itself!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that, brother.” + </p> + <p> + “It's true, isn't it? Everybody knows what a holy life you live.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” + </p> + <p> + “But I have never lived the religious life at all, and I only came to it + as a refuge from the law and the gallows; and if the Father hadn't——” + </p> + <p> + “Another time, brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the story I told the police was true, and I had really——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, brother, hush! I won't hear you. What you are saying is for God's + ear only, and, whatever you have done, God will judge your soul in mercy. + We have only to ask him——” + </p> + <p> + “Quick, then; the last sands are running out!” and he strove to rise and + kneel. + </p> + <p> + “Lie still, brother: God will accept the humiliation of your soul.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, let me up; let me kneel beside you. The prayer for the dying—say + it with me, Brother Storm; let us say it together. 'O Lord, save——'” + </p> + <p> + <i>“'O Lord, save thy servant, </i> + </p> + <p> + “'Which putteth his trust in thee. + </p> + <p> + “'Send him help from thy holy place. + </p> + <p> + “'And ... evermore ... mightily defend him. + </p> + <p> + “'Let the enemy have no advantage over him. + </p> + <p> + “'Nor the ... wicked—— + </p> + <p> + “'Be unto him, O Lord, a strong tower. + </p> + <p> + “'From the—— + </p> + <p> + “'O Lord, hear our prayers. + </p> + <p> + “'And——'” + </p> + <p> + “Paul! Paul! Speak to me! Speak! Don't leave me! We shall console and + support each other. You shall come to me, I will go to you. No matter + about the religious life. One word! My lad, my lad!” + </p> + <p> + But Brother Paul had gone. The captured eagle with the broken wing had + slipped its chain at last. + </p> + <p> + In the terrible peace which followed the air of the room seemed to become + empty. John Storm felt chill and dizzy, and a great awe fell upon him. The + courage which he had built up in sight of Brother Paul's sufferings ebbed + rapidly away, and his old fear of rule flowed back. He must carry the lay + brother to his cell; he must be ignorant of his death; he must conceal and + cover up everything. The moon had gone by this time, for it was near to + morning, and the shadows of night were contending with the leaden hues of + dawn. + </p> + <p> + He opened the door and listened. The house was still quite silent. He + walked on tip-toe to the end of the corridor, pausing at every cell. There + was no sound anywhere, except the sonorous breathing of some heavy sleeper + and the ticking of the clock in the hall. + </p> + <p> + Then he returned to the chamber of death, and, lifting the dead man in his + arms, he carried him back to the room which he had left as a living man. + The body was light, and he scarcely felt its weight, for the limbs under + the cassock had dried up like withered twigs. He stretched them out on the + bed that they might be fit for death's composing hand, and then closed the + eyes and laid the hands together on the breast, and took the heavy cross + that hung about the neck and put it as well as he could into the nerveless + fingers. By this time the daylight had overcome the shadows of the + fore-dawn, and the ruddy glow of morning was gliding into the room. + Traffic was beginning to stir in the sleeping city, and a cart was + rattling down the street. + </p> + <p> + One glance more he gave at the dead brother's face, and going down on his + knees beside it he said a prayer and crossed himself. Then he rose and + stole back to his room and shut the door without a sound. + </p> + <p> + There was a boundless relief when this was done, and partly from relief + and partly from exhaustion he fell asleep. He slept for a few minutes + only, but sleep knows no time, and a moment in its garden of forgetfulness + will wipe out the bitterness of a life. When he awoke he stretched out his + hand as he was accustomed to do and rapped three times on the wall. But + the tide of consciousness returned to him even as he did so, and in the + dead silence that followed his very heart grew cold. + </p> + <p> + Then the Father Minister began to awaken the household. His deep call and + the muffled answer which followed it rose higher and higher and came + nearer and nearer, and every step as he approached seemed to beat upon + John Storm's brain. He had reached the topmost story—he was coming + down the corridor—he was standing before the door of the dead man's + cell. + </p> + <p> + “Benedicamus Domino!” he called, but no answer came back to him. He called + again, and there was a short and terrible silence. + </p> + <p> + John Storm held his breath and listened. By the faint click of the lock he + knew that the door had been opened, and that the Father Minister had + entered the room. There was a muttered exclamation and then another short + silence, and after that there came the click of the lock again. The door + had been closed, and the Father Minister had resumed his rounds. When he + called at the door of John Storm's cell not a tone of his voice would have + told that anything unusual had taken place. + </p> + <p> + The bell rang, and the brothers trooped down the stairs. Presently the + low, droning sound of their voices came up from the chapel where they were + saying Lauds. But the service had scarcely ended when the Father + Minister's step was on the stair again. This time another was with him. It + was the doctor. They entered the brother's room and closed the door behind + them. From the other side of the wall John Storm followed every movement + and every word. + </p> + <p> + “So he has gone at last, poor soul!” + </p> + <p> + “Is he long dead, doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Some hours, certainly. Was there nobody with him then?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't wish for anybody. And then you told us that nothing could he + done, and that he might live a month.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, a dying man, you know—— But how strangely composed he + looks! And then the cross on his breast as well!” + </p> + <p> + “He was very devout and penitent. He made his last devotion yesterday with + an intensity of joy such as I have rarely witnessed.” + </p> + <p> + “His eyes closed, too! You are sure there was nobody with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody whatever.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence and then the doctor said, “Well, he has + slipped his anchor at last, poor soul!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has launched on the ocean of the love of God. May we all be as + ready when our call comes!” + </p> + <p> + They came back to the corridor, and John heard their footsteps going + downstairs. Then for some minutes there were unusual noises below. Rapid + steps were coming and going, the hall bell was ringing, and the front door + was opening and shutting. + </p> + <p> + An hour later Brother Andrew came with the breakfast. He was obviously + excited, and putting down the tray he began to busy himself in the room + and to sing, as before, in, his pretence of a Gregorian chant: + </p> + <p> + “Brother Paul is dead—he died in the night—there was nobody + with him—we are sorry he has left us, but glad he is at peace-God + rest the soul of our poor Brother Paul!” + </p> + <p> + It was Easter Day. At midday service in the church the brothers sang the + Easter hymn, and a mighty longing took hold of John Storm for his own + resurrection from his living grave. + </p> + <p> + Next day there was much coming and going between the world outside and the + adjoining cell, and late at night there were heavy and shambling + footsteps, and even some coarse and ribald talk. + </p> + <p> + “Bear a 'and, myte.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they won't have their backs broke as carry this one downstairs. He + ain't a Danny Lambert, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “No, they don't feed ye on Bovril in plyces syme as this. I'll lay ye odds + yer own looking-glass wouldn't know ye arter three months 'ard on religion + and dry tommy.” + </p> + <p> + “It pawses me 'ow people tyke to it. Gimme my pint of four-half, and my + own childring to follow me.” + </p> + <p> + Early on the following morning a stroke rang out on the bell, then another + stroke, and again another. + </p> + <p> + “It is the knell,” thought John. + </p> + <p> + A group of the lay brothers came up and passed into the room. “Now!” said + one, as if giving a signal, and then they passed out again with the + measured steps of men who bear a burden. “They are taking him away,” he + thought. + </p> + <p> + He listened to their retreating footsteps. “He has gone,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + The passing bell continued to ring out minute by minute, and presently + there was the sound of singing. “It is the service for the dead,” he told + himself. + </p> + <p> + After a while both the bell and the singing ceased, and then there was no + sound anywhere except the dull rumble of the traffic in the city outside—the + deep murmur of the mighty sea that flows on forever. + </p> + <p> + “What am I doing?” he asked himself. “What bolts and bars are keeping me? + I am guilty of a folly. I am degrading myself.” + </p> + <p> + At midday Brother Andrew came with his food. “Brother Paul is buried,” he + sang, “the coffin was beautiful—it was covered with flowers—we + buried him in his cassock, with his beads and psalter—we left the + cross on his breast—he loved it and died with it in his hands—the + Father has come home—he said mass this morning.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm could bear no more. He pushed the lay brother aside and made + straight for the Superior's room. + </p> + <p> + The Father was sitting before the fire, looking sad and low and weary. He + rose to his feet with a painful smile, as John broke into his cell with + blazing eyes, and cried in a choking voice: + </p> + <p> + “Father, I can not live the religious life any longer! I have tried to—with + all my soul and strength I've tried to, but I can not, I can not! This + life of prayer and penance and meditation is stifling me, and corrupting + me, and crushing the man out of me, and I can not bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying, my son?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been deceiving you and myself and everybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Deceiving me?” + </p> + <p> + “It was for my own ends and not Brother Paul's that I helped him to break + obedience, and so injure his health and hasten his death.” + </p> + <p> + “Your own?” + </p> + <p> + “I, too, had a sister in the world, and my heart was hungry for news of + her.” + </p> + <p> + “A sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Some one nearer than a sister—and all my spiritual life has been a + sham.” + </p> + <p> + “My son, my son!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Father. I shall love you and honour you and revere you + always; but I must break my obedience and leave you, or I shall be a + hypocrite and a liar and a cheat.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + The dinner party at the Home Secretary's took place on Wednesday, in the + week after Easter. It had rained during the day, but cleared up toward + night. Glory and Koenig had taken an omnibus to Waterloo Place, and then + walked up the wide street that ends with the wide steps going down to the + park. Two lines of lofty stone houses go off to right and left, and the + house they were going to was in one of them. + </p> + <p> + A footman received them with sombre but easy familiarity. The artistes? + Yes. They were shown into the library, and light refreshments were brought + in to them on a tray. Three other members of the choral company were there + already. Glory was seeing it all for the first time, and Koenig was + describing and explaining everything in broken whispers. + </p> + <p> + A band was playing in the well of the circular staircase, and a second + footman stood in an alcove behind an outwork of hats and overcoats. The + first footman reappeared. Were the artistes ready to go to the + drawing-room? + </p> + <p> + They followed him upstairs. The band had stopped, and there was the + distant hum of voices and the crackle of plates. Waiters were coming and + going from the dining-room, and the butler stood at the door giving + instructions. At one moment there was a glimpse within of ladies in + gorgeous dresses, and a table laden with silver and bright with + fairy-lamps. When the door opened the voices grew louder, when it closed + the sounds were deadened. + </p> + <p> + The upper landing opened on to a <i>salon</i> which had three windows down + to the ground, and half of each stood open. Outside there was a wide + terrace lit up by Chinese and Moorish lanterns. Beyond was the dark patch + of the park, and farther still the towers of the Abbey and the clock of + Westminster, but the great light was not burning to-night. + </p> + <p> + “De House naivare sits on Vednesday night,” said Koenig. + </p> + <p> + They passed into the drawing-room, which was empty. The standing lamps + were subdued by coverings of yellow-silk lace. There was a piano and an + organ. + </p> + <p> + “Ve'll stay here,” said Koenig, opening the organ, and Glory stood by his + side. + </p> + <p> + Presently there were ripples of laughter, sounds of quick, + indistinguishable voices, waves of heliotrope, and the rustle of silk + dresses on the stairs. Then the ladies entered. Two or three of them who + were elderly leaned their right hands on the arms of younger women, and + walked with ebony sticks in their left. An old lady wearing black satin + and a large brooch came last. Koenig rose and bowed to her. Glory prepared + to bow also, but the lady gave her a side inclination of the head as she + sat in a well-cushioned chair under a lamp, and Glory's bow was abridged. + </p> + <p> + The ladies sat and talked, and Glory tried to listen. There were little + nothings, punctuated by trills of feminine laughter. She thought the + conversation rather silly. More than once the ladies lifted their + lorgnettes and looked at her. She set her lips hard and looked back + without flinching. + </p> + <p> + A footman brought tea on a tray, and then there was the tinkle of cup and + saucer, and more laughter. The lady in satin looked round at Koenig, and + he began to play the organ. He played superbly, but nobody seemed to + listen. When he finished there was a pause, and everybody said: “Oh, thank + you; we're all—er——” and then the talk began again. The + vocal soloist sang some ballad of Schumann, and as long as it lasted an + old lady with an ear-trumpet sat at the foot of the piano, and a young + girl spoke into it. When it was over, everybody said, “Ah, that dear old + thing!” Then there was an outbreak of deeper voices from the stairs, with + lustier laughter and heavier steps. + </p> + <p> + The gentlemen appeared, talking loudly as they entered. Koenig was back at + the organ and playing as if he wished it were the 'cello and the drum and + the whole brass band. Glory was watching everything; it was beginning to + be very funny. Suddenly it ceased to be so. One of the gentlemen was + saying, in a tired drawl: “Old Koenig again! How the old boy lasts! Seem + to have been hearing—him since the Flood, don't you know.” + </p> + <p> + It was Lord Robert Ure. Glory caught one glimpse of him, then looked down + at her slipper and pawed at the carpet. He put his glass in his eye, + screwed up the left side of his face, and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + An elderly man with a leonine head came up to the organ and said: “Got + anything comic, Mr. Koenig? All had the influenza last winter, you know, + and lost our taste for the classical.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, sir,” said Koenig, and then turning to Glory he touched + her wrist. “How's de pulse? Ach Gott! beating same like a child's! Now is + your turn.” + </p> + <p> + Glory made a step forward, and the talk grew louder as she was observed. + She heard fragments of it. “Who is she?” “Is she a professional?” “Oh, no—a + lady.” “Sing, does she, or is it whistling?” “No, she's a professional; we + had her last year; she does conjuring.” And then the voice she had heard + before said, “By Jove, old fellow, your young friend looks like a red + standard rose!” She did not flinch. There was a nervous tremor of the lip, + a scarcely perceptible curl of it, and then she began. + </p> + <p> + It was Mylecharaine, a Manx ballad in the Anglo-Manx, about a farmer who + was a miser. His daughter was ashamed of him because he dressed shabbily + and wore yellow stockings; but he answered that if he didn't the stocking + wouldn't be yellow that would be forthcoming for her dowry. + </p> + <p> + She sang, recited, talked, acted, lived the old man, and there was not a + sound until she finished, except laughter and the clapping of hands. Then + there was a general taking of breath and a renewed outbreak of gossip. + “Really, really! How—er—natural!” “Natural—that's it, + natural. I never—er——” “Rather good, certainly; in fact, + quite amusing.” “What dialect is it?” “Irish, of course.” “Of course, of + course,” with many nods and looks of knowledge, and a buzz and a flutter + of understanding. “Hope she'll do something else.” “Hush! she's + beginning.” + </p> + <p> + It was Ny Kiree fo Niaghtey, a rugged old wail of how the sheep were lost + on the mountains in a great snowstorm; but it was full of ineffable + melancholy. The ladies dropped their lorgnettes, the men's glasses fell + from their eyes and their faces straightened, the noisy old soul with the + ear-trumpet sitting under Glory's arm was snuffling audibly, and at the + next moment there was a chorus of admiring remarks. “'Pon my word, this is + something new, don't you know!” “Fine girl too!” “Fine! Irish girls often + run to it.” “That old miser—you could see him!” + </p> + <p> + “What's her next piece?—something funny, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + Koenig's pride was measureless, and Glory did not get off lightly. He + cleared the floor for her, and announced that with the indulgence, etc., + the young artiste would give an imitation of common girls singing in the + street. + </p> + <p> + The company laughed until they screamed, and when the song was finished + Glory was being overwhelmed with congratulations and inquiries, “Charming! + All your pieces are charming! But really, my dear young lady, you must be + more careful about our feelings. Those sheep now—it was really quite + too sad.” The old lady with the ear-trumpet asked Glory whether she could + go on for the whole of an afternoon, and if she felt much fatigued + sometimes, and didn't often catch cold. + </p> + <p> + But the lady in satin came to her relief at last. “You will need some + refreshment,” she said. “Let me see now if I can not——” and + she lifted her glass and looked round the room. At the next moment a voice + that made a shudder pass over her said: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps <i>I</i> may have the pleasure of taking Miss Quayle down.” + </p> + <p> + It was Drake. His eyes were as blue and boyish as before, but Glory + observed at once that he had grown a mustache, and that his face and + figure were firmer and more manlike. A few minutes afterward they had + passed through one of the windows on to the terrace and were walking to + and fro. + </p> + <p> + It was cool and quiet out there after the heat and hubbub of the + drawing-room. The night was soft and still. Hardly a breath of wind + stirred the leaves of the trees in the park below. The rain had left a + dewy moistness in the air, and a fragrant mist was lying over the grass. + The stars were out, and the moon had just risen behind the towers of + Westminster. + </p> + <p> + Glory was flushed with her success. Her eyes sparkled and her step was + light and free. Drake touched her hand as it lay on his arm and said: + </p> + <p> + “And now that I've got you to myself I must begin by scolding you.” + </p> + <p> + They looked at one another and smiled. “Have I displeased you so much + to-night?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It's not that. Where have you been all this time?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if you only knew!” She had stopped and was looking into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “I <i>want</i> to know. Why didn't you answer my letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Your letter?” She was clutching at the lilies of the valley in her bosom. + </p> + <p> + He tapped her hand lightly and said, “Well, we'll not quarrel this time, + only don't do it again, you know, or else——” + </p> + <p> + She recovered herself and laughed. Her voice had a silvery ring, and he + thought it was an enchanting smile that played upon her face. They resumed + their walk. + </p> + <p> + “And now about to-night. You have had a success, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Why of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I always knew you must have.” + </p> + <p> + She was proud and happy. He began to be grave and severe. + </p> + <p> + “But the drawing-room after dinner is no proper scene for your talents. + The audience is not in the right place or the right mood. Guests and + auditors—their duties clash. Besides, to tell you the truth, art is + a dark continent to people like these.” + </p> + <p> + “They were kind to me, at all events,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “To-night, yes. The last new man—the last new monkey——” + </p> + <p> + She was laughing again and swinging along on his arm as if her feet hardly + touched the ground. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; I am only thinking how polite you are,” and then they looked at + each other again and laughed together. + </p> + <p> + The mild radiance of the stars was dying into the brighter light of the + moon. A bird somewhere in the dark trees below had mistaken the moonlight + for the dawn, and was making its early call. The clock at Westminster was + striking eleven, and there was the deep rumble of traffic from the unseen + streets round about. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful!” said Glory. “It's hard to believe that this can be the + same London that is so full of casinos and clubs and-monasteries.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what does a girl like you know about such places?” + </p> + <p> + She had dropped his arm and was looking over the balcony. The sound of + voices came from the red windows behind them. Then the soloist began to + sing again. His second ballad was the Erl King: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Du liebes Kind, komm' geh' mit mir! + Gar schöne Spiele spiel' ich mit dir. +</pre> + <p> + “Any news of John Storm?” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if you would like him to come out again—now?” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder!” + </p> + <p> + At that moment there was a step behind them, and a soft voice said, “I + want you to introduce me, Mr. Drake.” + </p> + <p> + It was a lady of eight or nine and twenty, wearing short hair brushed + upward and backward in the manner of a man. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Rosa—Miss Rosa Macquarrie,” said Drake. “Rosa is a journalist, + and a great friend of mine, Glory. If you want fame, she keeps some of the + keys of it, and if you want friendship—— But I'll leave you + together.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said the lady, “I want you to let me know you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I've seen you before—and spoken to you,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Why, where?” + </p> + <p> + Glory was laughing awkwardly. “Never mind now! Some other time perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “The people inside are raving about your voice. 'Where does it come from?' + they are saying—'from a palace or Ratcliffe Highway?' But I think <i>I</i> + know. It comes from your heart, my dear. You have lived and and loved and + suffered—and so have I. Here we are in our smart frocks, dear, but + we belong to another world altogether and are the only working women in + the company. Perhaps I can help you a little, and you have helped me + already. I may know you, may I not?” + </p> + <p> + There was a deep light in Glory's eyes and a momentary quiver of her + eyelids. Then without a word she put her arms about Rosa's neck and kissed + her, + </p> + <p> + “I was sure of you,” said Rosa. Her voice was low and husky. “Your name is + Glory, isn't it? It wasn't for nothing you were given that name. God gave + it you!” + </p> + <p> + The party was breaking up and Koenig came for “his star.” “I vill give you + an engagement for one, two, tree year, upon my vord I vill,” he said as + they went downstairs. While the butler took him back to the library to + sign his receipt and receive his cheque, Glory stood waiting by the + billiard table in the hall and Drake and Lord Robert stepped up to her. + </p> + <p> + “Until when?” said Drake with a smile, but Glory pretended not to + understand him. “I dare say you thought me cynical to-night, Glory. I only + meant that if you are to follow this profession I want you to make the + best of it. Why not look for a wider scene? Why not go directly to the + public?” + </p> + <p> + “But de lady is engaged to me for tree year,” said Koenig, coming up. + </p> + <p> + Drake looked at Glory, who shook her head, and then Koenig made an effort + at explanation. It was an understood thing. He had taught her, taken her + into his house, found her in a Sunday—— + </p> + <p> + But Drake interrupted him. If they could help Miss Quayle to a better + market for her genius Mr. Koenig need be no loser by the change. Then + Koenig was pacified, and Drake handed Glory to a cab. + </p> + <p> + “We're good friends again, aren't we?” he said, touching her hand lightly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + There was a letter from Aunt Rachel waiting for her at the Priory. Aunt + Anna didn't like these frequent changes, and she had no faith in music or + musicians either, but the Parson thought Anna too censorious, and as for + Mr. Koenig's Sunday evening companies, he had no doubt they were of + Germans chiefly, and that they came to talk of Martin Luther and to sing + his hymn. Sorry to say his infirmities were increasing; the burden of his + years was upon him, and he was looking feeble and old. + </p> + <p> + Glory slept little that night. On going to her room she threw up the + window and sat in front of it, that the soft night breeze might play on + her hot lips and cheeks. The moon was high and the garden was slumbering + under its gentle light. Everything around was hushed, and there was no + sound anywhere except the far-off rumble of the great city, as of the wind + in distant trees. She was thinking of a question which Drake had put to + her. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if I should?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + And through the silence there was the unheard melody of the German song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Du liebes Kind, komm' geh' mit mir! + Gar schöne Spiele spiel' ich mit dir. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. + </h2> + <p> + “The Priory—May Day. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Aunt Rachel: The great evening is over! Such dresses, such diamonds—you + never saw the like! The smart folks are just like other human beings, and + I was not the tiniest bit afraid of them. My own part of the programme + went off pretty well, I think. Mr. Koenig had arranged the harmonies and + accompaniments of some of our old Manx songs, so I sang Mylecharaine, and + they listened and clapped, and then Ny Kiree fo Niaghtey, and they cried + (and so did I), and then I imitated some work-girls singing in the + streets, and they laughed and laughed until I laughed too, and then they + laughed because I was laughing, and we all laughed together. It was over + and done before I knew where I was, and everybody was covering me with—well, + no, not kisses, as grandfather used to do, but the society equivalent—ices + and jellies—which the gentlemen were rushing about wildly to get for + me. + </p> + <p> + “But all this is as nothing compared to what is to happen next. I mustn't + whisper a word about it yet, so false face must hide what the false heart + doth know. You'll <i>have</i> to forgive me if I succeed, for nothing is + wicked in this world except failure, you know, and a little sin must be a + great virtue if it has grown to be big enough, you see. There! How + sagacious of me! You didn't know what a philosopher you had in the family, + did you, my dears? + </p> + <p> + “It is to be on the 24th of May. That will be the Queen's birthday over + again; and when I think of all that has happened since the last one I feel + as romantic as a schoolgirl and as sentimental as a nursery maid. + Naturally I am in a fearful flurry over the whole affair, and, to tell the + truth, I have hied me to the weird sisters on the subject—that is to + say, I have been to a fortune-teller, and spent a 'goolden' half-sovereign + on the creature at one fell swoop. But she predicts wonderful things for + me, so I am satisfied. The newspapers are to blaze with my name; I am to + have a dazzling success and become the idol of the hour—all of which + is delightful and entrancing, and quite reasonable at the money. + Grandfather will reprove me for tempting Providence, and, of course, John + Storm, if he knew it, would say that I shouldn't do such things under any + circumstances; yet to tell me I oughtn't to do this and I oughtn't to do + that is like saying I oughtn't to have red hair and I oughtn't to catch + the measles. I can't help it! I can't help it! so what's the good of + breaking one's heart about it? + </p> + <p> + “But I hadn't got to wait for <i>Hecate et cie</i> for what related to the + newspapers. You must know, dear Aunt Rachel, that I <i>did</i> meet Mr. + Drake at the house of the Home Secretary, and he introduced me to a Miss + Rosa Macquarrie, who is no longer very young or beautiful, but a dear for + all that! and she, being a journalist, has bruited my praises abroad, with + the result that all the world is ringing with my virtues. Listen, all men + and women, while I sound mine own glory out of a column as long as the + Duke of York's: + </p> + <p> + “'She is young and tall, and has auburn hair' (always thought it was red + myself) 'and large gray eyes, one of which seems at a distance to be + brown' (it squints), 'giving an effect of humour and coquetry and power + rarely, if ever, seen in any other face.... Her voice has startling + varieties of tone, being at one moment soft, cooing, and liquid, and at + another wild, weird, and plaintive; and her face, which is not strictly + beautiful' (oh!), 'but striking and unforgetable, has an extraordinary + range of expression.... She sings, recites, speaks, laughs, and cries + (literally), and some of her selections are given in a sort of Irish <i>patois</i>' + (oh, my beloved Manx!) 'that comes from her girlish lips with charming + vivacity and drollness.' All of which, though it is quite right, and no + more than my due, <i>of course</i>, made me sob so long and loud that my + good little hippopotamus came upstairs to comfort me, but, finding me + lying on the floor, he threw up his hands and cried, '<i>Ach</i> Gott! I + t'ought it vas a young lady, but vhatever is it?' + </p> + <p> + “Yet wae's me! Sometimes I think how many poor girls there must be who + have never had a chance, while I have had so many and such glorious ones; + who can not get anybody to listen to them, while I am so pampered and + praised; who live in narrow alleys and serve in little dark shops, where + men and men-things talk to them as they can't talk to their sisters and + wives, while I am held aloft in an atmosphere of admiration and respect: + who earn their bread in clubs and casinos, where they breathe the air of + the hotbeds of hell, while I am surrounded by everything that ennobles and + refines! O God, forgive me if I am a vain, presumptuous creature, laughing + at everything and everybody, and sometimes forgetting that many a poor + girl who is being tossed about in London is just as good as me, and as + clever and as brave. + </p> + <p> + “But hoot! 'I likes to be jolly and I allus is.' So Aunt Anna doesn't like + this Wandering Jew existence! Well, do you know I always thought I should + love a gipsy life. It has a sense of movement that must be delightful, and + then I love going fast. Do you remember the days when 'Caesar' used to + take the bit in his teeth and bolt with me! Lo, there was little me, + cross-legged on his bare back, with nothing to trust to but Providence and + a pair of rope reins; but, oh my! I couldn't breathe for excitement and + delight! Dear old maddest of created 'Caesars,' I feel as if I were + whacking at him yet! What do you think of me? But we 'that be females are + the same craythurs alwis', as old Chalse used to say, and what a woman is + in the cradle she continues to be to the end. There again! I wonder who + told you that, young lady! + </p> + <p> + “But to tell you the truth at last, dear Aunt Rachel, there is something I + have kept back until now, because I couldn't bear the thought of any of + you being anxious on my account, especially grandfather, who thinks of + Glory so much too often as things are. Can't you guess what it is? I + couldn't help taking up my life of Wandering Jew, because I was dismissed + from the hospital! Didn't you understand that, my dears? I thought I was + telling you over and over again. Yes, dismissed as unfit to be a nurse, + and so I was, according to the order of the institution first, and human + love and pity last. But all's well that ends well, you know, and now that + my wanderings seem to be over and I am in my right place at length, I feel + like one who is coming out of a long imprisonment, a great peril, a + darkness deeper even than John Storm's cell. And if I ever become a famous + woman, and good men will listen to me, I will tell them to be tender and + merciful to poor girls who are trying to live in London and be good and + strong, and that the true chivalry is to band themselves together against + the other men who are selfish and cruel and impure. Oh, this great, + glorious, devilish, divine London! It must stand to the human world as the + seething, boiling, bubbling waters of Niagara do to the world of Nature. + Either a girl floats over its rapids like a boat, and in that case she + draws her breath and thanks God, or she is tossed into its whirlpool like + a dead body and goes round and round until she finds the vortex and is + swallowed up! + </p> + <p> + “There! I have blown off my steam, and now to business. Mr. Drake is to + give a luncheon party in his rooms on the twenty-fourth, in honour of my + experiment, but the great event itself will not come off until nearly + half-past nine that night. By that time the sun will have set over the + back of the sea at Peel, the blackbird will have given you his last + 'guy-smook,' and all the world will be dropping asleep. Now, if you'll + only remember to say just then, 'God bless Glory!' I'll feel strong and big + and brave. + </p> + <p> + “Your poor, silly, sentimental girlie, Glory.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. + </h2> + <p> + Some weeks had passed, and it was the morning of the last day of John + Storm's residence at Bishopsgate Street. After calling the Brotherhood, + the Father had entered John's room and was resting on the end of the bed. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite determined to leave us?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite determined, Father.” + </p> + <p> + The Father sighed deeply, and said in broken sentences: 'Our house is + passing through terrible trials, my son. Perhaps we did wrong to come + here. There is no cross in our foundations, and we have built on a worldly + footing. 'Unless the Lord build the house—' It was good of you to + delay the execution of your purpose, but now that the time has come—I + had set my heart on you, my son. I am an old man now, and something of the + affection of the natural father——” + </p> + <p> + “Father, if you only knew——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I know, I know. You have suffered, and it is not for me to + reproach you. The novitiate has its great joys, but it has its great + trials also. Self has to be got rid of, faith has to be exerted, obedience + has to be learned, and, above all, the heart has to be detached from its + idols in the world—a devoted mother, it may be; a dear sister; + perhaps a dearer one still.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment. John's head was down; he could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “That you wish to return to the world only shows that you came before you + heard the call of God. Some other voice seemed to speak to you, and you + listened and thought it was God's voice. But God's voice will come to you + yet, and you will hear it and answer it and not another—— Have + you anywhere to go to when you leave this house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the home of a good woman. I have written to her—I think she + will receive me.” + </p> + <p> + “All that you brought with you will be returned, and if you want money——” + </p> + <p> + “No, I came to you as a beggar—let me leave you as a beggar too.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing more, my son.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Father?” + </p> + <p> + The old man's voice was scarcely audible. “You are breaking obedience by + leaving us before the end of your novitiate, and the community must + separate itself from you, though you are only a novice, as from one who + has violated his vow and cast himself off from grace. This will have to be + done before you cross our threshold. It is our duty to the Brotherhood—it + is also our duty to God. You understand that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be in the church, a few minutes before midday service.” + </p> + <p> + The Father rose to go. “Then that is all?” + </p> + <p> + “That is all.” + </p> + <p> + The Father's voice was breaking. “Good-bye, my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Father, and God forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + A leather trunk which John had brought with him on the day he came to the + Brotherhood was returned to his room, containing the clothes he had worn + in the outer world, as well as his purse and watch and other belongings. + He dressed himself in his habit as a clergyman, and put the cassock of the + society over it, for he knew that to remove that must be part of the + ordeal of his expulsion. Then the bell rang for breakfast, and he went + down to the refectory. + </p> + <p> + The brothers received him in silence, hardly looking up as he entered, + though by their furtive glances he could plainly see that he was the only + subject that occupied their thoughts. When the meal was over he tried to + mingle among them, that he might say farewell to as many as were willing + that he should do so. Some gave him their hands with prompt good will, + some avoided him, some turned their backs upon him altogether. + </p> + <p> + But if his reception in the refectory was chilling, his welcome in the + courtyard was warm enough. At the first sound of his footsteps on the + paved way the dog came from his quarters under the sycamore. One moment + the creature stood and looked at him with its sad and bloodshot eyes; + then, with a bound, it threw its fore paws on his breast, and then plunged + around him and uttered deep bays that were like the roar of thunder. + </p> + <p> + He sat on the seat and caressed the dog, and his heart grew full and + happy. The morning was bright with sunshine, the air was fragrant with the + leafage of spring, and birds were singing and rejoicing in the tree. + </p> + <p> + Presently Brother Andrew came and sat beside him. The lay brother, like a + human dog, had been following him about all the morning, and now in his + feeble way he began to talk of his mother, and to wonder if John would + ever see her. Her name was Pincher, and she was a good woman. She lived in + Crook Lane, Crown Street, Soho, and kept house for his brother, who was a + pawnbroker. But his brother, poor fellow! was much given to drink, and + perhaps that had been a reason why he himself had left home. John promised + to call on her, and then Brother Andrew began to cry. The sprawling + features of the great fellow were almost laughable to look upon. + </p> + <p> + The bell rang for Terce. While the brothers were at prayers, John took his + last look over the house. With the dog at his heels—the old thing + seemed determined to lose sight of him no more—he passed slowly + through the hall and into the community room and up the stairs and down + the top corridor. He looked again at every inscription on the walls, + though he knew them all by heart and had read them a hundred times. When + he came to his own cell he was touched by a strange tenderness. Place + where he had thought so much, prayed so much, suffered so much—it + was dear to him, after all! He went up on to the tower. How often he had + been drawn there as by a devilish fascination! The great city looked + innocent enough now under its mantle of sunlight, dotted over with green, + but how dense, how difficult! Then the bell rang for midday service, + though it was not yet noon, and he went down to the hall. The brothers + were there preparing to go into the church. The order of the procession + was the same as on the day of his dedication, except that Brother Paul was + no longer with them—Brother Andrew going first with the cross, then + the lay brothers, then the religious, then the Father, and John Storm last + of all. + </p> + <p> + Though the courtyard was full of sunshine, the church looked dark and + gloomy. Curtains were drawn across the windows, and the altar was draped + as for a funeral. As soon as the brothers had taken their places in the + choir the Father stood on the altar steps and said: + </p> + <p> + “If any member of this community has one unfaithful thought of going back + to the outer world, I charge him to come to this altar now. But woe to him + through whom the offence cometh! Woe to him who turns back after taking up + the golden plough!” + </p> + <p> + John was kneeling in his place in the second row of the choir. The eyes of + the community were upon him. He hesitated a moment, then rose and stepped + up to the altar. + </p> + <p> + “My son,” said the Father, “it is not yet too late. I see your fate as + plainly as I see you now. Shall I tell you what it is? Can you bear to + hear it? I see you going out into a world which has nothing to satisfy the + cravings of your soul. I see you foredoomed to failure and suffering and + despair. I see you coming back to us within a year with a broken and + bleeding heart. I see you taking the vows of lifelong consecration. Can + you face that future?” + </p> + <p> + “I must.” + </p> + <p> + The Father drew a long breath. “It is inevitable,” he said; and, taking a + book from the altar, he read the awful service of the degradation: + </p> + <p> + <i>“By the authority of God Almighty, Father [Symbol: Patée], Son, and + Holy Ghost, and by our own authority, we, the members of the Society of + the Holy Gethsemane, do take away from thee the habit of our Order, and + depose and degrade and deprive thee of all rights and privileges in the + spiritual goods and prayers which, by the grace of God, are done among + us.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Amen! Amen!” said the brothers. + </p> + <p> + During the reading of the service John had been kneeling. The Father + motioned to him to rise, and proceeded to remove the cord with which he + had bound him at his consecration. When this was done, he signalled to + Brother Andrew to take off the cassock. + </p> + <p> + The bell was tolled. The Father dropped on his knees. The brothers, hoarse + and husky, began to sing <i>In exitu Israel de Aegypto</i>. Their heads + were down, their voices seemed to come up out of the earth. + </p> + <p> + It was all over now. John Storm turned about, hardly able to see his way. + Brother Andrew went before him to open the door of the sacristy. The lay + brother was crying audibly. + </p> + <p> + The sun was still shining in the courtyard, and the birds were still + singing and rejoicing. The first thing of which John was conscious was + that the dog was licking his rigid fingers. + </p> + <p> + A moment later he was in the little covered passage to the street, and + Brother Andrew was opening the iron gate. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, my lad!” + </p> + <p> + He stretched out his hand, then remembered that he was an excommunicated + man, and tried to draw it back; but the lay brother had snatched at it and + lifted it to his lips. + </p> + <p> + The dog was following him into the street. + </p> + <p> + “Go back, old friend.” + </p> + <p> + He patted the old creature on the head, and Brother Andrew laid hold of it + by the loose skin at its neck. A hansom was waiting for him with his trunk + on the top. + </p> + <p> + “Victoria Square, Westminster,” he called. The cab was moving off, when + there was a growl and a lurch—the dog had broken away and was + running after it. + </p> + <p> + How crowded the streets were! How deafening was the traffic! The church + bell was ringing for midday service. What a thin tinkle it made out there, + yet how deep was its boom within! Stock Exchange men with their leisurely + activity were going in by their seven doorways to their great market place + in Capel Court. + </p> + <p> + He began to feel a boundless relief. How his heart was beating! With what + a strange and deep emotion he found himself once more in the world! + Driving in the dense and devious thoroughfares was like sailing on a cross + sea outside a difficult headland. He could smell the brine and feel the + flick of the foam on his lips and cheeks. It was liberty, it was life! + </p> + <p> + Feeling anxious about the dog, he drew up the cab for a moment. The + faithful creature was running under the driver's seat. Before the cab + could start again a line of sandwich men had passed in front of it. Their + boards contained a single word. The word was “GLORIA.” + </p> + <p> + He saw it, yet it barely arrested his consciousness. Somehow it seemed + like an echo from the existence he had left behind. + </p> + <p> + The noises of life were as wine in his veins now. He was burning with + impatience to overtake his arrears of knowledge, to see what the world had + gone through in his absence. Leaning over the door of the hansom, he read + the names of the streets and the signs over the shops, and tried to + identify the houses which had been rebuilt and the thoroughfares which had + been altered. But the past was the past, and the clock would turn back for + no man. These men and women in the streets knew all that had happened. The + poorest beggar on the pavement knew more than he did. Nearly a year of his + life was gone—in prayer, in penance, in fasting, in visions, in + dreams—dropped out, left behind, and lost forever. + </p> + <p> + Going by the Bank, the cab drew up again to allow a line of omnibuses to + pass into Cheapside. Every omnibus had its board for advertisements, and + nearly every board contained the word he had seen before—“GLORIA.” + </p> + <p> + “Only the name of some music-hall singer,” he told himself. But the name + had begun to trouble him. It had stirred the fibres of memory, and made + him think of the past—of his yacht, of Peel, of his father, and + finally of Glory—and again of Glory—and yet again of Glory. + </p> + <p> + He saw that flags were flying on the Mansion House and on the Bank, and, + pushing up the trap of the hansom, he asked if anything unusual was going + on. + </p> + <p> + “Lawd, down't ye know what day it is terday, sir? It's the dear ole + laidy's birthday. That's why all the wimming's going abart in their penny + carridges. Been through a hillness, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, something of that sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Thort so, sir.” + </p> + <p> + When the cab started afresh he began to tell himself what he was going to + do in the future. He was going to work among the poor and the outcast, the + oppressed and the fallen. He was going to search for them and find them in + their haunts of sin and misery. Nothing was to be too mean for him. + Nothing was to be common or unclean. No matter about his own good name! No + matter if he was only one man in a million! The kingdom of heaven was like + a grain of mustard seed. + </p> + <p> + When he came within sight of St. Paul's the golden cross on the dome was + flashing like a fiery finger in the blaze of the midday sun. That was the + true ensign! It was a monstrous and wicked fallacy, a gloomy and narrow + formula, that religion had to do with the affairs of the other world only. + Work was religion! Work was prayer! Work was praise! Work was the love of + man and the glory of God! + </p> + <p> + Glorious gospel! Great and deathless symbol! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THIRD BOOK. — <i>THE DEVIL'S ACRE</i>. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + Behind Buckingham Palace there is a little square of modest houses + standing back from the tide of traffic and nearly always as quiet as a + cloister. At one angle of the square there is a house somewhat larger than + the rest but just as simple and unassuming. In the dining-room of this + house an elderly lady was sitting down to lunch alone, with the covers + laid for another at the opposite end of the table. + </p> + <p> + “Hae ye the spare room ready, Emma?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am,” said the maid. + </p> + <p> + “And the sheets done airing? And baith the pillows? And the pillow-slips—and + everything finished?” + </p> + <p> + The maid was answering “Yes” to each of these questions when a hansom cab + came rattling up to the front of the house, and the old lady leaped out of + her seat. + </p> + <p> + “It's himself!” she cried, and she ran like a girl to the hall. + </p> + <p> + The door had been opened before she got there, and a deep voice was + saying, “Is Mrs. Callender——” + </p> + <p> + “It's John! My gracious! It's John Storm!” the old woman cried, and she + lifted both hands as if to fling herself into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “My guidness, laddie, but you gave poor auld Jane sic a start! Expected + ye? To be sure we expected you, and terribly thrang we've been all morning + making ready. Only my daft auld brain must have been a wee ajee. But,” + smiling through her tears, “has a body never a cheek, that you must be + kissing at her hand? And is this your dog?” looking down at the + bloodhound. “Welcome? Why, of course it's welcome. What was I saying the + day, Emma? 'I'd like fine to have a dog,' didn't I? and here it is to our + hand.—Away with ye, James, man, and show Mr. Storm to his room, and + then find a bed for the creature somewhere. Letters for ye, laddie? + Letters enough, and you'll find them on the table upstairs. Only, mind ye, + the lunch is ready, and your fish is getting cold.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm opened his letters in his room. One of them was from his uncle, + the Prime Minister: “I rejoice to hear of your most sensible resolution. + Come and dine with me at Downing Street this day week at seven o'clock. I + have much to say and much to ask, and I expect to be quite alone.” + </p> + <p> + Another was from his father: “I am not surprised at your intelligence, but + if anything could exceed the folly of going into a monastery it is the + imbecility of coming out of it. The former appears to be a subject of + common talk in this island already, and no doubt the latter will soon be + so.” + </p> + <p> + John flinched as at a cut across the face and then smiled a smile of + relief. Apparently Glory was writing home wherever she was, and there was + good news in that, at all events. He went downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Come your way in, laddie, and let me look at ye again. Man, but your face + is pale and your bonnie eyes are that sunken. But sit ye down and eat. + They've been starving ye, I'm thinking, and miscalling it religion. It's + enough to drive a reasonable body to drink. Carnal I am, laddie, and I + just want to put some flesh on your bones. Monks indeed! And in this age + of the world too! Little Jack Horners sitting in corners and saying, 'Oh, + what a good boy am I!'” + </p> + <p> + John defended his late brethren. They were holy men; they lived a holy + life; he had not been good enough for their company. “But I feel like a + sailor home from sea,” he said; “tell me what has happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Births, marriages, and deaths? I suppose ye're like the lave of the men, + and think nothing else matters to a woman. But come now, more chicken? No? + A wee bitty? Aye, but ye're sair altered, laddie! Weel, where can a body + begin?” + </p> + <p> + “The canon—how is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Fine as fi'pence. Guid as ever in the pulpit? Aye, but it's a pity he + doesna' bide there, for he's naething to be windy of when he comes out of + it. Deacon now, bless ye, or archdeacon, and some sic botherment, and his + daughter is to be married to yon slip of a curate with the rabbit mouth + and the heather legs. Weel, she wasna for all markets, ye ken.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mrs. Macrae?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone over to the angels. Dead? Nae, ye're too expecting altogether. She's + got religion though, and holds missionary meetings in her drawing-room of + a Monday, and gives lunches to actor folk of a Sunday, and now a poor + woman that's been working for charity and Christianity all her days has no + chance with her anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “And Miss Macrae?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor young leddy, they're for marrying her at last! Aye, to that Ure man, + that lord thing with the eyeglass. I much misdoubt but her heart's been + somewhere else, and there's ane auld woman would a hantle rather have + heard tell of her getting the richt man than seeing the laddie bury hisel' + in a monastery. She's given in at last though, and it's to be a grand + wedding they're telling me. Your Americans are kittle cattle—just + the Jews of the West seemingly, and they must do everything + splendiferously. There are to be jewels as big as walnuts, and bouquets + five feet in diameter, and a rope of pearls for a necklace, and a + rehearsal of the hale thing in the church. Aye, indeed, a rehearsal, and + the 'deacon, honest man, in the middle of the magnificence.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm's pale face was twitching. “And the hospital,” he said, “has + anything happened there—?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “No other case such as the one——” + </p> + <p> + “Not since yon poor bit lassie.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” + </p> + <p> + “It was the first ill thing I had heard tell of her for years, and the + nurses are good women for all that. High-spirited? Aye; but dear, bright, + happy things, to think what they have to know and to be present at! + Lawyers, doctors, and nurses see the worst of human nature, and she'd be a + heartless woman who'd no make allowances for them, poor creatures!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm had risen from the table with a flushed face, making many + excuses. He would step round to the hospital; he had questions to ask + there, and it would be a walk after luncheon. + </p> + <p> + “Do,” said Mrs. Callender, “but remember dinner at six. And hark ye, + hinny, this house is to be your hame until you light on a better one, so + just sleep saft in it and wake merrily. And Jane Callender is to be your + auld auntie until some ither body tak's ye frae her, and then it'll no be + her hand ye'll be kissing for fear of her wrinkles, I'm thinking.” + </p> + <p> + The day was bright, the sun was shining, and the streets were full of + well-groomed horses in gorgeous carriages with coachmen in splendid + liveries going to the drawing-room in honour of the royal birthday. As + John went by the palace the approaches to it were thronged, the band of + the Household Cavalry was playing within the rails, and officers in + full-dress uniform, members of the diplomatic service with swords and + cocked hats, and ladies in gorgeous brocades carrying bouquets of orchids + and wearing tiaras of diamonds and large white plumes were filing through + the gate toward the throne-room. + </p> + <p> + The hospital looked strangely unfamiliar after so short an absence, and + there were new faces among the nurses who passed to and fro in the + corridors. John asked for the matron, and was received with constrained + and distant courtesy. Was he well? Quite well. They had a resident + chaplain now, and being in priest's orders he had many opportunities where + death was so frequent. Was he sure he had not been ill? John understood—it + was almost as if he had come out of some supernatural existence, and + people looked at him as if they were afraid. + </p> + <p> + “I came to ask if you could tell me anything of Nurse Quayle?” + </p> + <p> + The matron could tell him nothing. The girl had gone; they had been + compelled to part with her. Nothing serious? No, but totally unfit to be a + nurse. She had some good qualities certainly—cheerfulness, + brightness, tenderness—and for the sake of these, and his own + interest in the girl, they had put up with inconceivable rudeness and + irregularities. What had become of her? She really could not say. Nurse + Allworthy might know—and the matron took up her pen. + </p> + <p> + John found the ward Sister with the house doctor at the bed of a patient. + She was short, even curt, said over her shoulder she knew nothing about + the girl, and then turned back to her work. As John passed out of the ward + the doctor followed him and hinted that perhaps the porter might be able + to tell him something. + </p> + <p> + The porter was difficult at first, but seeing his way clearer after a + while he admitted to receiving letters for the nurse and delivering them + to her when she called. That was long ago, and she had not been there + since New Year's Eve. Then she had given him a shilling and said she would + trouble him no more. + </p> + <p> + John gave him five shillings and asked if anybody ever called for her. + Yes, once. Who was it? A gentleman. Had he left his name? No, but he had + said he would write. When was that? A day or two before she was there the + last time. + </p> + <p> + Drake! There could not be a shadow of a doubt of it. John Storm looked at + the clock. It was 3:45. Then he buttoned his coat and crossed the street + to the park with his face in the direction of St. James's Street. + </p> + <p> + Horatio Drake had given a luncheon in his rooms that day in honour of + Glory's first public appearance. The performance was to come off at night, + but in the course of the morning there had been a dress rehearsal in the + <i>salon</i> of the music hall. Twenty men and women, chiefly journalists + and artists, had assembled there to get a first glimpse of the <i>débutante</i>, + and cameras had lurked behind <i>portières</i> and in alcoves to catch her + poses, her expressions, her fleeting smiles, and humorous grimaces. Then + the company had adjourned to Drake's chambers. The luncheon was now over, + the last guest had gone, and the host was in his dining-room alone. + </p> + <p> + Drake was standing by the chimney-piece holding at arm's length a pencil + sketch of a woman's beautiful face and lithe figure. “Like herself—alive + to the fingertips,” he thought, and then he propped it against the + pier-glass. + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of the opening and closing of the outer door downstairs, + and Lord Robert entered the room. He looked heated, harassed, and + exhausted. Shaking out his perfumed pocket handkerchief, he mopped his + forehead, drew a long breath, and dropped into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “I've done it,” he said; “it's all over.” + </p> + <p> + Polly Love had lunched with the company that day, and Lord Robert had + returned home with her in order to break the news of his approaching + marriage. While the girl had been removing her hat and jacket he had sat + at the piano and thumbed it, hardly knowing how to begin. All at once he + had said, “Do you know, my dear, I'm to be married on Saturday?” She had + said nothing at first, and he had played the piano furiously. Heavens, + what a frame of mind to be in! Why didn't the girl speak? At last he had + looked round at her, and there she stood grinning, gasping, and white as a + ghost. Suddenly she had begun to cry. Good God, such crying! Yes, it was + all over. Everything had been settled somehow. + </p> + <p> + “But I'll be in harder condition before I tackle such a job again.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment. Drake was leaning on the mantelpiece, his + legs crossed, and one foot beating on the hearth-rug. The men were + ashamed, and they began to talk of indifferent things. Smoke? Didn't mind. + Those Indian cigars were good. Not bad, certainly. + </p> + <p> + At length Drake said in a different voice, “Cruel but necessary, Robert—necessary + to the woman who is going to be your wife, cruel to the poor girl who has + been.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert rose to his feet impatiently, stretched his arm, and shot out + his striped cuff and walked to and fro across the room. + </p> + <p> + “Pon my soul, I believe I should have stuck to the little thing but for + the old girl, don't you know. She's made such a good social running lately—and + then she's started this evangelical craze too. No, Polly wouldn't have + suited her book anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Silence again, and then further talk on indifferent things. + </p> + <p> + “Wish Benson wouldn't sweep the soda water off the table.” “Ring for it.” + “The little thing really cares for me, don't you know. And it isn't my + fault, is it? I had to hedge. Frank, dear boy, you're always taunting me + with the treadmill we have to turn for the sake of society, and so forth, + but with debts about a man's neck like a millstone, what could one do——” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean that you're worse than others, old fellow, or that + sacrificing this one poor child is going to mend matters much——” + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn't likely to improve my style of going, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “But that man John Storm was not so far wrong, after all, and for this + polygamy of our 'lavender-glove tribe' the nation itself will be overtaken + by the judgment of God one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert broke into a peal of derisive laughter. “Go on,” he cried. “Go + on, dear boy! It's funny to hear you, though—after to-day's + proceedings too”; and he glanced significantly around the table. + </p> + <p> + Drake brought down his fist with a thump on to the mantelpiece. “Hold your + tongue, Robert! How often am I to tell you this is a different thing + entirely? Because I discover a creature of genius and try to help her to + the position she deserves——” + </p> + <p> + “You hypocrite, if it had been a man instead of a charming little woman + with big eyes, don't you know——” + </p> + <p> + But there had been a ring at the outer door, and Benson came in to say + that a clergyman was waiting downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Little Golightly again!” said Lord Robert wearily. “Are these everlasting + arrangements never——” + </p> + <p> + The man stopped him. It was not Mr. Golightly; it was a stranger; would + not give his name; looked like a Catholic priest; had been there before, + he thought. + </p> + <p> + “Can it be—-Talk of the devil——” + </p> + <p> + “Ask him up,” said Drake. And while Drake bit his lip and clinched his + hands, and Lord Robert took up a scent bottle and sprayed himself with eau + de cologne, they saw a man clad in the long coat of a priest come into the + room—calm, grave, self-possessed, very pale, with hollow and shaven + cheeks and dark and sunken eyes, which burned with a sombre fire, and head + so closely cropped as to seem to be almost bald. + </p> + <p> + John Storm's anger had cooled. As he crossed the park the heat of his soul + had turned to fear, and while he stood in the hall below, with an + atmosphere of perfume about him, and even a delicate sense of a feminine + presence, his fear had turned to terror. On that account he had refused to + send up his name, and on going up the staircase, lined with prints, he had + been tempted to turn about and fly lest he should come upon Glory face to + face. But finding only the two men in the room above, his courage came + back and he hated himself for his treacherous thought of her. + </p> + <p> + “You will forgive me for this unceremonious visit, sir,” he said, + addressing himself to Drake. + </p> + <p> + Drake motioned to him to be seated. He bowed, but continued to stand. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend will remember that I have been here before.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert bent his head, and went on trifling with the spray. + </p> + <p> + “It was a painful errand relating to a girl who had been nurse at the + hospital. The girl was nothing to me, but she had a companion who was very + much.” + </p> + <p> + Drake nodded and his lips stiffened, but he did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “You are aware that since then I have been away from the hospital. I wrote + to you on the subject; you will remember that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “I have only just returned, and have come direct from the hospital now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I see you know what I mean, sir. My young friend has gone. Can you tell + me where to find her?” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry I can not,” said Drake coldly, and it stung him to see a look of + boundless relief cross the grave face in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't know——” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say that,” said Drake, and then the lines of pain came back. + </p> + <p> + “At the request of her people I brought her up to London. Naturally they + will look to me for news of her, and I feel responsible for her welfare.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is so, you must pardon me for saying you've taken your duty + lightly,” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + John Storm gripped the rail of the chair in front of him, and there was + silence for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever I may have to blame myself with in the past, it would relieve me + to find her well and happy and safe from all harm.” + </p> + <p> + “She <i>is</i> well and happy, and safe too—I can tell you that + much.” + </p> + <p> + There was another moment of silence, and then John Storm said in broken + sentences and in a voice that was struggling to control itself: “I have + known her since she was a child, sir—-You can not think how many + tender memories—-It is nearly a year since I saw her, and one likes + to see old friends after an absence.” + </p> + <p> + Drake did not speak, but he dropped his head, for John's eyes had begun to + fill. + </p> + <p> + “We were good friends too. Boy and girl comrades almost. Brother and + sister, I should say, for that was how I liked to think of myself—her + elder brother bound to take care of her.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little trill of derisive laughter from the other side of the + room, where Lord Robert had put the spray down noisily and turned to look + out into the street. Then John Storm drew himself up and said in a firm + voice: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, why should I mince matters? I will not do so. The girl we + speak of is more to me than anybody else in the world besides. Perhaps she + was one of the reasons why I went into that monastery. Certainly she is + the reason I have come out of it. I have come to find her. I <i>shall</i> + find her. If she is in difficulty or danger I intend to save her. Will you + tell me where she is?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Storm,” said Drake, “I am sorry, very sorry, but what you say compels + me to speak plainly. The lady is well and safe and happy. If her friends + are anxious about her she can reassure them for herself, and no doubt she + has already done so. But in the position she occupies at present you are a + dangerous man. It might not be her wish, and it would not be to her + advantage, to meet with you, and I can, not allow her to run the risk.” + </p> + <p> + “Has it come to that? Have you a right to speak for her, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I have——” Drake hesitated, and then said with a rush, + “the right to protect her against a fanatic.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm curbed himself; he had been through a long schooling. “Man, be + honest,” he said. “Either your interest is good or bad, selfish or + unselfish. Which is it?” + </p> + <p> + Drake made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “But it would be useless to bandy words. I didn't come here to do that. + Will you tell me where she is?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is to be a duel between us—is that so? You for the girl's + body and I for her soul? Very well, I take your challenge.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence once more, and John Storm's eyes wandered about the + room. They fixed themselves at length on the sketch by the pier-glass. + </p> + <p> + “On my former visit I met with the same reception. The girl could take + care of herself. It was no business of mine. How that relation has ended I + do not ask. But this one——” + </p> + <p> + “This one is an entirely different matter,” said Drake, “and I will thank + you not to——” + </p> + <p> + But John Storm was making the sign of the cross on his breast, and saying, + as one who was uttering a prayer, “God grant it is and always may be!” + </p> + <p> + At the next moment he was gone from the room. The two men stood where he + had left them until his footsteps had ceased on the stairs and the door + had closed behind him. Then Drake cried, “Benson—a telegraph form! I + must telegraph to Koenig at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he'll follow her up on the double quick,” said Lord Robert. “But + what matter? His face will be enough to frighten the girl. Ugh! It was the + face of a death's head!” + </p> + <p> + At dinner that night John Storm was more than usually silent. To break in + upon his gravity, Mrs. Callender asked him what he intended to do next. + </p> + <p> + “To take priest's orders without delay,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he said, lifting a twitching and suffering face “to make an attack + on the one mighty stronghold of the devil's kingdom whereof woman is the + direct and immediate victim; to tell Society over again it is an organized + hypocrisy for the pursuit and demoralization of woman, and the Church that + bachelorhood is not celibacy, and polygamy is against the laws of God; to + look and search for the beaten and broken who lie scattered and astray in + our bewildered cities, and to protect them and shelter them whatever they + are, however low they have fallen, because they are my sisters and I love + them.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless ye, laddie! That's spoken like a man,” said the old woman, + rising from her seat. + </p> + <p> + But John Storm's pale face had already flushed up to the eyes, and he + dropped his head as one who was ashamed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + At eight o'clock that night John Storm was walking through the streets of + Soho. The bell of a jam factory had just been rung, and a stream of young + girls in big hats with gorgeous flowers and sweeping feathers were pouring + out of an archway and going arm-in-arm down the pavement. Men standing in + groups at street ends shouted to them as they passed, and they shouted + back in shrill voices and laughed with wild joy. In an alley round one + corner an organ man was playing “Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,” and some of the + girls began to dance and sing around him. Coming to the main artery of + traffic, they were almost run down by a splendid equipage which was + cutting across two thoroughfares into a square, and they screamed with + mock terror as the fat coachman in tippet and cockade bellowed to them to + get out of the way. + </p> + <p> + The square was a centre of gaiety. Theatres and music halls lined two of + its sides, and the gas on their facades and the beacons on their roofs + were beginning to burn brightly in the fading daylight. With skips and + leaps the girls passed over to the doors of these palaces, and peered with + greedy eyes through lines of policemen and doorkeepers in livery at + gentlemen, in shields of shirt-front and ladies in light cloaks and long + white gloves stepping out of gorgeous carriages into gorgeous halls. + </p> + <p> + John Storm was looking on at this masquerade when suddenly he became aware + that the flare of coarse lights on the front of the building before him + formed the letters of a word. The word was “GLORIA.” Seeing it again as he + had seen it in the morning, but now identified and explained, he grew hot + and cold by turns, and his brain, which refused to think, felt like a sail + that is flapping idly on the edge of the wind. + </p> + <p> + There was a garden in the middle of the square, and he walked round and + round it. He gazed vacantly at a statue in the middle of the garden, and + then walked round the rails again. The darkness was gathering fast, the + gas was beginning to blaze, and he was like a creature in the coil of a + horrible fascination. That word, that name over the music hall, fizzing + and crackling in its hundred lights, seemed to hold him as by an eye of + fire. And remembering what had happened since he left the monastery—the + sandwich men, the boards on the omnibuses, the hoardings on the walls—it + seemed like a fiery finger which had led him to that spot. Only one thing + was clear—that a supernatural power had brought him there, and that + it was intended he should come. Fearfully, shamefully, miserably, rebuking + himself for his doubts, yet conquered and compelled by them, he crossed + the street and entered the music hall. + </p> + <p> + He was in the pit and it was crowded; not a seat vacant anywhere, and many + persons standing packed in the crush-room at the back. His first sensation + was of being stared at. First the man at the pay-box and then the + check-taker had looked at him, and now he was being looked at by the + people about him. They were both men and girls. Some of the men wore light + frock-coats and talked in the slang of the race-course, some of the girls + wore noticeable hats and showy flowers in their bosoms and were laughing + in loud voices. They made a way for him of themselves, and he passed + through to a wooden barrier that ran round the last of the pit seats. + </p> + <p> + The music hall was large, and to John Storm's eyes, straight from the + poverty of his cell, it seemed garish in the red and gold of its Eastern + decorations. Men in the pit seats were smoking pipes and cigarettes, and + waiters with trays were hurrying up and down the aisles serving ale and + porter, which they set down on ledges like the book-rests in church. In + the stalls in front, which were not so full, gentlemen in evening dress + were smoking cigars, and there was an arc of the tier above, in which + people in fashionable costumes were talking audibly. Higher yet, and + unseen from that position, there was a larger audience still, whose voices + rumbled like a distant sea. A cloud of smoke filled the atmosphere, and + from time to time there was the sound of popping corks and breaking + glasses and rolling bottles. + </p> + <p> + The curtain was down, but the orchestra was beginning to play. Two men in + livery came from the sides of the curtain and fixed up large figures in + picture frames that were attached to the wings of the proscenium. Then the + curtain rose and the entertainment was resumed. It was in sections, and + after each performance the curtain was dropped and the waiters went round + with their trays again. + </p> + <p> + John Storm had seen it all before in the days when, under his father's + guidance, he had seen everything—the juggler, the acrobat, the + step-dancer, the comic singer, the tableaus, and the living picture. He + felt tired and ashamed, yet, he could not bring himself to go away. As the + evening advanced he thought: “How foolish! What madness it was to think of + such a thing!” He was easier after that, and began to listen to the talk + of the people about him. It was free, but not offensive. In the frequent + intervals some of the men played with the girls, pushing and nudging and + joking with them, and the girls laughed and answered back. Occasionally + one of them would turn her head aside and look into John's face with a + saucy smile. “God forbid that I should grudge them their pleasure!” he + thought. “It's all they have, poor creatures!” + </p> + <p> + But the audience grew noisier as the evening went on. They called to the + singers, made inarticulate squeals, and then laughed at their own humour. + A lady sang a comic song. It described her attempt to climb to the top of + an omnibus on a windy day. John turned to look at the faces behind him, + and every face was red and hot, and grinning and grimacing. He was still + half buried in the monastery he had left that morning, and he thought: + “Such are the nightly pleasures of our people. To-night, to-morrow night, + the night after! O my country, my country!” + </p> + <p> + He was awakened from these thoughts by an outburst of applause. The + curtain was down and nothing was going on except the putting up of a new + figure in the frames. The figure was 8. Some one behind him said, “That's + her number!” “The new artiste?” said another voice. “Gloria,” said the + first. + </p> + <p> + John Storm's head began to swim. He looked back—he was in a solid + block of people. “After all, what reasons have I?” he thought, and he + determined to stand his ground. + </p> + <p> + More applause. Another leader of the orchestra had appeared. <i>Bâton</i> + in hand, he was bowing from his place before the footlights. It was + Koenig, the organist, and John Storm shuddered in the darkest corner of + his soul. + </p> + <p> + The stalls had filled up unawares to him, and a party was now coming into + a private box which had hitherto been empty. The late-comers were Drake + and Lord Robert Ure, and a lady with short hair brushed back from her + forehead. + </p> + <p> + John Storm felt the place going round him, yet he steadied and braced + himself. “But this is the natural atmosphere of such people,” he thought. + He tried to find satisfaction in the thought that Glory was not with them. + Perhaps they had exaggerated their intimacy with her. + </p> + <p> + The band began to play. It was music for the entrance of a new performer. + The audience became quiet; there was a keen, eager, expectant air; and + then the curtain went up. John Storm felt dizzy. If he could have escaped + he would have turned and fled. He gripped with both hands the rail in + front of him. + </p> + <p> + Then a woman came gliding on to the stage. She was a tall girl in a dark + dress and long black gloves, with red hair, and a head like a rose. It was + Glory! A cloud came over John Storm's eyes, and for a few moments he saw + no more. + </p> + <p> + There was some applause from the pit and the regions overhead. The people + in the stalls were waving their handkerchiefs, and the lady in the box was + kissing her hand. Glory was smiling, quite at her ease, apparently not at + all nervous, only a little shy and with her hands interlaced in front of + her. Then there was silence again and she began to sing. + </p> + <p> + It is the moment when prayers go up from the heart not used to pray. + Strange contradiction! John Storm found himself praying that Glory might + do well, that she might succeed and eclipse everything! But he had turned + his eyes away, and the sound of her voice was even more afflicting than + the sight of her face. It was nearly a year since he had heard it last, + and now he was hearing it under these conditions, in a place like this! He + must have been making noises by his breathing. “Hush! hush!” said the + people about him, and somebody tapped him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + After a moment he regained control of himself, and he lifted his head and + listened. Glory's voice, which had been quavering at first, gathered + strength. She was singing Mylecharaine, and the wild, plaintive harmony of + the old Manx ballad was floating in the air like the sound of the sea. + After her first lines a murmur of approval went round, the people sat up + and leaned forward, and then there was silence again—dead silence—and + then loud applause. + </p> + <p> + But it was only with the second verse that the humour of her song began, + and John Storm waited for it with a trembling heart. He had heard her sing + it a hundred times in the old days, and she was singing it now as she had + sung it before. There were the same tricks of voice, the same tricks of + gesture, the same expressions, the same grimaces. Everything was the same, + and yet everything was changed. He knew it. He was sure it must be so. So + artless and innocent then, now so subtle and significant! Where was the + difference? The difference was in the place, in the people. John Storm + could have found it in his heart to turn on the audience and insult them. + Foul-minded creatures, laughing, screaming, squealing, punctuating their + own base interpretations and making evil of what was harmless! How he + hated the grinning faces round about him! + </p> + <p> + When the song was finished Glory swept a gay courtesy, lifted her skirts, + and tripped off the stage. Then there were shouting, whistling, stamping, + and deafening applause. The whole house was unanimous for an encore, and + she came back smiling and bowing with a certain look of elation and pride. + John Storm was becoming terrified by his own anger. “Be quiet there!” said + some one behind him. “Who's the josser?” said somebody else, and then he + heard Glory's voice again. + </p> + <p> + It was another Manx ditty. A crew of young fishermen are going ashore on + Saturday night after their week on the sea after the herring. They go up + to the inn; their sweethearts meet them there; they drink and sing. At + length they are so overcome by liquor and love that they have to be put to + bed in their big sea boots. Then the girls kiss them and leave them. The + singer imitated the kissing, and the delighted audience repeated the + sound. Sounds of kissing came from all parts of the hall, mingled with + loud acclamations of laughter. The singer smiled and kissed back. Somehow + she conveyed the sense of a confidential feeling as if she were doing it + for each separate person in the audience, and each person had an impulse + to respond. It was irresistible, it was maddening, it swept over the whole + house. + </p> + <p> + John Storm felt sick in his very soul. Glory knew well what she was doing. + She knew what these people wanted. His Glory! Glory of the old, innocent + happy days! O God! O God! If he could only get out! But that was + impossible. Behind him the dense mass was denser than ever, and he was + tightly wedged in by a wall of faces—hot, eager, with open mouths, + teeth showing, and glittering and dancing eyes. He tried not to listen to + what the people about were saying, yet he could not help but hear. + </p> + <p> + “Tasty, ain't she?” “Cerulean, eh?” “Bit 'ot, certinly!” “Well, if I was a + Johnny, and had got the oof, she'd have a brougham and a sealskin + to-morrow.” “To-night, you mean,” and then there were significant squeaks + and trills of laughter. + </p> + <p> + They called her back again, and yet again, and she returned with + unaffected cheerfulness and a certain look of triumph. At one moment she + was doing the gaiety of youth, and at the next the crabbedness of age; now + the undeveloped femininity of the young girl, then the volubility of the + old woman. But John Storm was trying to hear none of it. With his head in + his breast and his eyes down he was struggling to think of the monastery, + and to imagine that he was still buried in his cell. It was only this + morning that he left it, yet it seemed to be a hundred years ago. Last + night the Brotherhood, the singing of Evensong, Compline, the pure air, + silence, solitude, and the atmosphere of prayer; and to-night the crowds, + the clouds of smoke, the odour of drink, the meaning laughter, and Glory + as the centre of it all! + </p> + <p> + For a moment everything was blotted out, and then there was loud + hand-clapping and cries of “Bravo!” He lifted his head. Glory had finished + and was bowing herself off. The lady in the private box flung her a + bouquet of damask roses. She picked it up and kissed it, and bowed to the + box, and then the acclamations of applause were renewed. + </p> + <p> + The crush behind relaxed a little, and he began to elbow his way out. + People were rising or stirring everywhere, and the house was emptying + fast. As the audience surged down the corridors to the doors they talked + and laughed and made inarticulate sounds. “A tricky bit o' muslin, eh?” + “Yus, she's thick.” “She's my dart, anyhow.” Then the whistling of a tune. + It was the chorus of Mylecharaine. John Storm felt the cool air of the + street on his hot face at last. The policemen were keeping a way for the + people coming from the stalls, the doorkeepers were whistling or shouting + for cabs, and their cries were being caught up by the match boys, who were + running in and out like dogs among the carriage wheels and the horses' + feet. “En-sim!” “Four-wheel-er!” + </p> + <p> + In a narrow court at the back, dimly lit and not much frequented, there + was a small open door under a lamp suspended from a high blank wall. This + was the stage-door of the music hall, and a group of young men, looking + like hairdressers' assistants, blocked the pavement at either side of it. + “Wonder what she's like off?” “Like a laidy, you bet.” “Yus, but none o' + yer bloomin' hamatoors.” “Gawd, here's the josser again!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm pushed his way through to where a commissionaire sat behind a + glass partition in a little room walled with pigeon holes. + </p> + <p> + “Can I see Miss Quayle?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The porter looked blank. + </p> + <p> + “Gloria, then,” said John Storm, with an effort. + </p> + <p> + The porter looked at him suspiciously. Had he an appointment? No; but + could he send in his name? The porter looked doubtful. Would she come out + soon? The porter did not know. Would she come this way? The porter could + not tell. Could he have her address? + </p> + <p> + “If ye want to write to the laidy, write here,” said the porter, with a + motion of his hands to the pigeon-holes. + </p> + <p> + John Storm felt humiliated and ashamed. The hairdressers' assistants were + grinning at him. He went out, feeling that Glory was farther than ever + from him now, and if he met her they might not speak. But he could not + drag himself away. In the darkness under a lamp at the other side of the + street he stood and waited. Shoddy broughams drove up, with drivers in + shabby livery, bringing “turns” in wonderful hats and overcoats, over + impossible wigs, whiskers, and noses—niggers, acrobats, clowns, and + comic singers, who stepped out, shook the straw of their carriage carpets + off their legs, and passed in at the stage entrance. + </p> + <p> + At length the commissionaire appeared at the door and whistled, and a + hansom cab rattled up to the end of the court. Then a lady muffled in a + cape, with the hood drawn over her head, and carrying a bouquet of roses, + came out leaning on the arm of a gentleman. She stood a moment by his side + and spoke to him and laughed. John heard her laughter. At the next moment + she had stepped into the hansom, the door had fallen to, the driver had + turned, the gentleman had raised his hat, the light had fallen on the + lady's face, and she was leaning forward and smiling. John saw her smiles. + </p> + <p> + At the next moment the hansom had passed into the illuminated + thoroughfares and the group of people had dispersed. John Storm was alone + under the lamp in the little dark street, and somewhere in the dark alleys + behind him the organ man was still grinding out “Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay.” + </p> + <p> + “Weel, what luck on your first night out?” said Mrs. Callender at + breakfast in the morning. “Found any of the poor lost things yet?” + </p> + <p> + “One,” said John, with a rueful face. “Lost enough, though she doesn't + know it yet, God help her!” + </p> + <p> + “They never do at first, laddie. Write to her friends, if she has any.” + </p> + <p> + “Her friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing like home influences, ye ken.” + </p> + <p> + “I will—I must! It's all I can do now.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <p> + “The Priory, Friday Morning. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear aunties, don't be terrified, but Glory has had a kind of a + wee big triumph! Nothing very awful, you know, but on Monday night, before + a rather larger company than usual, she sang and recited and play-acted a + little, and as a result all the earth—the London earth—is + talking about her, and nobody is taking any notice of the rest of the + world. Every post is bringing me flowers with ribbons and cards attached, + or illustrated weeklies with my picture and my life in little, and I find + it's wonderful what a lot of things you may learn about yourself if you'll + only read the papers. My room at this moment is like a florist's window at + nine o'clock on Saturday morning, and I have reason to suspect that mine + host and teacher, Carl Koenig, F. E. C. O., exhibits them to admiring + neighbours when I am out. The voice of that dear old turtle has ever since + Monday been heard in the land, and besides telling me about Poland day and + night from all the subterranean passages of the house, he has taken to + waiting on me like a nigger, and ordering soups and jellies for me as if I + had suddenly become an invalid. Of course, I am an able-bodied woman just + the same as ever, but my nerves have been on the rack all the week, and I + feel exactly as I did long ago at Peel when I was a little naughty minx + and got up into the tower of the old church and began pulling at the bell + rope, you remember. Oh, dear! oh, dear! My frantic terror at the noise of + the big bells and the vibration of the shaky old walls! Once I had begun I + couldn't leave off for my life, but went on tugging and tugging and + quaking and quaking until—have you forgotten it?—all the + people came running helter-skelter under the impression that the town was + afire. And then, behold, it was only little me, trembling like a leaf and + crying like a ninny! I remember I was scolded and smacked and dismissed + into outer darkness (it was the chip vault, I think), for that first + outbreak of fame, and now, lest you should want to mete out the same + punishment to me again— + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Anna, I'm knitting the sweetest little shawl for you, dear—blue + and white, to suit your complexion—being engaged in the evening + only, and most of the day sole mistress of my own will and pleasure. How + charming of me, isn't it? But I'm afraid it isn't, because you'll see + through me like a colander, for I want to tell you something which I have + kept back too long, and when I think of it I grow old and wrinkled like a + Christmas apple. So you must be a pair of absolute old angels, aunties, + and break the news to grandfather. + </p> + <p> + “You know I told you, Aunt Rachel, to say something for me at nine o'clock + on the Queen's birthday. And you remember that Mr. Drake used to think + pearls and diamonds of Glory, and predict wonderful things for her. Then + you don't forget that Mr. Drake had a friend named Lord Robert Ure, + commonly called Lord Bob. Well, you see, by Mr. Drake's advice, and Lord + Bobbie's influence and agency, and I don't know what, I have made one more + change—it's to be the last, dears, the very last—in my + Wandering-Jew existence, and now I am no longer a society entertainer, + because I am a music-hall art——” + </p> + <p> + Glory had written so far when she dropped the pen and rose from the table, + wiping her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My poor child, you can't tell them, it's impossible; they would never + forgive you!” + </p> + <p> + Then a carriage stopped before the house, the garden bell was rung, and + the maid came into the room with a lady's card. It was inscribed “Miss + Polly Love,” with many splashes and flourishes. + </p> + <p> + “Ask her up,” said Glory. And then Polly came rustling up the stairs in a + silver-gray silk dress and a noticeable hat, and with a pug-dog tucked + under her arm. She looked older and less beautiful. The pink and ivory of + her cheeks was coated with powder, and her light gray eyes were pencilled. + There was the same blemished appearance as before, and the crack in the + vase was now plainly visible. + </p> + <p> + Glory had met the girl only once since they parted after the hospital, but + Polly kissed her effusively. Then she sat down and began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you wouldn't think it, my dear, but I'm the most miserable girl + in London. Haven't you heard about it? I thought everybody knew. Robert is + going to be married. Yes, indeed, to-morrow morning to that American + heiress, and I hadn't an idea of it until Monday afternoon. That was the + day of your luncheon, dear, and I felt sure something was going to happen, + because I broke my looking-glass dressing to go out. Robert took me home, + and he began to play the piano, and I could see he was going to say + something. 'Do you know, little woman, I'm to be married on Saturday?' I + wonder I didn't drop, but I didn't, and he went on playing. But it was no + use trying, and I burst out and ran into my room. After a minute I heard + him coming in, but he didn't lift me up as he used to do. Only talked to + me over my back, telling me to control myself, and what he was going to do + for me, and so on. He used to say a few tears made me nicer looking, but + it was no good crying—and then he went away.” + </p> + <p> + She began to cry again, and the dog in her lap began to howl. + </p> + <p> + “O God! I don't know what I've done to be so unfortunate. I've not been + flash at all, and I never went to <i>cafés</i> at night, or to Sally's or + Kate's, as so many girls do, and he can't say I ever took notice of + anybody else. When I love anybody I think of him last thing at night and + first thing in the morning, and now to be left alone—I'm sure I + shall never live through it!” + </p> + <p> + Glory tried to comfort the poor broken creature. It was her duty to live. + There was her child—had she never even seen it since she parted with + it to Mrs. Jupe? It must be such a darling by this time, creeping about + and talking a little, wherever it was. She ought to have the child to live + with her, it would be such company. + </p> + <p> + Polly kissed the pug to stop its whining, and said: “I don't want company. + Life isn't the same thing to me now. He thinks because he is marrying that + woman—What better is she than me, I would like to know? She's only + snapping at him for what he is, and he is only taking her for what she's + got, and I've a great mind to go to All Saints' and shame them. You + wouldn't? Well, it's hard to hide one's feelings, but it would serve them + right if—if I did it.” + </p> + <p> + Polly had risen with a wild look, and was pressing the pug so hard that it + was howling again. + </p> + <p> + “Did what?” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—that is to say——” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't dream of going to the church. The police——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it isn't the police I'm afraid of,” said Polly, tossing her head. + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, my dear,” said Polly. + </p> + <p> + On the way downstairs she reproached herself for not seeing what was + coming. “But girls like us never do, now do we?” + </p> + <p> + Glory coloured up to her hair, but made no protest. At the gate Polly + wiped her eyes and drew down her veil, and said: “I'm sorry to say it to + your face, my dear, but it's all been that Mr. Drake's doings, and a girl + ought to know he'd do as much himself, and worse. But you're a great woman + now, and in everybody's mouth, so you needn't care. Only——” + </p> + <p> + Glory's face was scarlet and her under lip was bleeding. Yet she kissed + the poor shallow thing at parting, because she was down, and did not + understand, and lived in another world entirely. But going back to where + her letter lay unfinished she thought: “Impossible! If this girl, living + in an atmosphere so different, thinks that——” Then she sat at + the table and forced herself to tell all. + </p> + <p> + She had got through the red riot of her confession and was writing: “I + don't know what he would think of it, but do you know I thought I saw his + face on Wednesday night. It was in the dark, and I was in a cab driving + away from the stage door. But so changed! oh, so changed! It must have + been a dream, and it was the same as if his ghost had passed me.” + </p> + <p> + Then she became aware of voices in dispute downstairs. First a man's + voice, then the voices of two men—one of them Koenig's, the other + with a haunting ring in it. She got up from the table and went to the door + of her room, going on tip-toe, yet hardly knowing why. Koenig was saying: + “No, sair, de lady does not lif here.” Then a deep, strong chest-voice + answered, “Mr. Koenig, surely you remember me?” and Glory's heart seemed + to beat like a watch. “No-o, sair. Are you—Oh, yes; what am I + thinking of?—But de lady——” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Koenig,” Glory called, cried, gasped over the stair-rail, “ask the + gentleman to come up, please.” + </p> + <p> + She hardly knew what happened next, only that Koenig seemed to be + muttering confused explanations below, and that she was back in her + sitting-room giving a glance into the looking-glass and doing something + with her hair. Then there was a step on the stairs, on the landing, at the + threshold, and she fell back a few paces from the door, that she might see + him as he came in. He knocked. Her heart was beating so violently that she + had to keep her hand over it. “Who's there?” + </p> + <p> + “It is I.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's I?” + </p> + <p> + Then she saw him coming down on her, and the very sunlight seemed to wave + like the shadows on a ship. He was paler and thinner, his great eyes + looked weary though they smiled, his hand felt bony though firm, and his + head was closely cropped. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for a moment without speaking and with a sensation of + fulness at her heart that was almost choking her. + </p> + <p> + “Is it you? I didn't know it was you—I was just thinking——” + She was talking at random, and was out of breath as if she had been + running. + </p> + <p> + “Glory, I have frightened you!” + </p> + <p> + “Frightened? Oh, no! Why should you think so? Perhaps I am crying, but + then I'm always doing that nowadays. And, besides, you are so——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am altered,” he said in the pause that followed. + </p> + <p> + “And I?” + </p> + <p> + “You are altered too.” He was looking at her with an earnest and + passionate gaze. It was she—herself—Glory—not merely a + vision or a dream. Again he recognised the glorious eyes with their + brilliant lashes and the flashing spot in one of them that had so often + set his heart beating. She looked back at him and thought, “How ill he + must have been!” and then a lump came into her throat and she began to + laugh that she might not have to cry, and broke out into broad Manx lest + he should hear the tremor in her voice: + </p> + <p> + “But you're coming too, aren't ye? And you've left that theer—Aw, + it's glad ter'ble I am, as our people say, and it's longin' mortal you'd + be for all, boy.” + </p> + <p> + Another trill of nervous laughter, and then a burst of earnest English: + “But tell me, you've come for good—you are not going back to——” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not going back to the Brotherhood, Glory.” How friendly his low + voice sounded! + </p> + <p> + “And you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've left the hospital, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see,” he said. His weary eyes were wandering about the room, and + for the first time she felt ashamed of its luxuries and its flowers. + </p> + <p> + “But how did you find me?” + </p> + <p> + “I went to the hospital first——” + </p> + <p> + “So you hadn't forgotten me? Do you know I thought you had quite—But + tell me at once, where did you go then?” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment, and she said, “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I went to Mr. Drake's chambers.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know why everybody should think that Mr. Drake——” + </p> + <p> + His great eyes were fixed on her face and his mouth was quivering, and, to + prevent him from speaking, she put on a look of forced gaiety and said, + “But how did you light on me at last?” + </p> + <p> + “I meant to find you, Glory, if I tramped all London over and everybody + denied you to me”—the lump in her throat was hurting her dreadfully—“but + I chanced to see the name over the music hall.” + </p> + <p> + She saw it coming, and broke into laughter. “The music hall! Only think! + You looking at music halls!” + </p> + <p> + “I was there on Monday night.” + </p> + <p> + “You? Monday? Then perhaps it was not my fancy that I saw you by the stage + do—.” Her nerves were getting more and more excited, and to calm + them she crossed her arms above her head. “So they gave you my address at + the stage door, did they?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I wrote for it to Peel.” + </p> + <p> + “Peel?” She caught her breath, and her arms came down. “Then perhaps you + told them where——” “I told them nothing, Glory.” She looked at + him through her eyelashes, her head held down. + </p> + <p> + “Not that it matters, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I've just been writing to them, and they'll soon—But, oh, I've so + much to say, and I can't say it here. Couldn't we go somewhere? Into the + park or on to the heath, or farther—much farther—the room is + so small, and I feel as if I've been suffocating for want of air.” + </p> + <p> + “I've something to say too, and if——” + </p> + <p> + “Then let it be to-morrow morning, and we'll start early, and you'll bring + me back in time for the theatre. Say Paddington Station, at eleven—will + that do?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + She saw him to the gate, and when he was going she wanted him to kiss her + hand, so she pretended to do the high handshake, but he only held it for a + moment and looked steadily into her eyes. The sunshine was pouring into + the garden, and she was bareheaded. Her hair was coiled up, and she was + wearing a light morning blouse. He thought she had never looked so + beautiful. On getting into the omnibus at the end of the street he took a + letter out of his vest pocket, and, being alone, he first carried it to + his lips, then reopened and read it: + </p> + <p> + “See her at once, dear John, and keep in touch with her, and I shall be + happy and relieved. As for your father, that old Chaise is going crazy and + is sending Lord Storm crazy too. He has actually discovered that the dust + the witch walks on who has cast the evil eye on you lies in front of + Glenfaba gate, and he has been sweeping it up o' nights and scattering it + in front of Knockaloe! What simplicity! There are only two women here. + Does the silly old gawk mean Rachel? or is it, perhaps, Aunt Anna?” + </p> + <p> + And while the omnibus joggled down the street, and the pale young + clergyman with the great weary eyes was poring over his letter, Glory was + sitting at her table and writing with flying fingers and a look of + enthusiastic ecstasy: + </p> + <p> + “I've had three bites at this cherry. But who do you think has just been + here? John!—John Storm! But then you know that he is back, and it + wasn't merely my fancy that I saw him by the stage door. It seems as if + people have been denying me to him, and he has been waiting for me and + watching over me.” (Blot.) “His voice is so low, but I suppose that comes + to people who are much alone, and he is so thin and so pale, and his eyes + are so large, and they have that deep look that cuts into the heart. He + knew he was changed, and I think he was ashamed” (blot), “but of course I + didn't let whit that I was taking notice, and I'm so happy for his sake, + poor fellow! that he has escaped from his cage in that Salvation zoo that + I know I shall make them split their sides in the theatre to-night.” + (Blot, blot.) “How tiresome! This ink must have got water in it somehow, + and then my handwriting is such a hop-skip-and-a-jump anyway. But hoots! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Why shouldn't I love Johnny, + “And why shouldn't Johnny love me? +</pre> + <p> + “Glory.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. + </h2> + <p> + It was a beautiful May morning, and standing by the Paddington Station + with the dog at his feet, he felt her approach instinctively as she came + toward him with her free step in her white cambric dress under the light + parasol fringed with lace. Her face was glowing with the fresh air, and + she looked happy and bright. As they walked into the station she poured + out a stream of questions about the dog, took possession of him + straightway, and concluded to call him Don. + </p> + <p> + They agreed to spend the day at Burnham Beeches, and while he went for the + tickets she stepped on to the platform. It was Saturday, the bookstall was + ablaze with the picture papers, and one of them was prominently displayed + at a page containing her own portrait. She wanted John to see this, so she + invented an excuse for bringing him face to face with it, and then she + laughed and he bought the paper. + </p> + <p> + The clerk recognised her—they could see that by the smile he kept in + reserve—and a group of officers in the Guards, in flannels and straw + hats, going down to their club at Maidenhead, looked at her and nudged + each other as if they knew who she was. Her eyes danced, her lips smiled, + and she was proud that John should see the first fruits of her fame. She + was proud of him, too, with his bold walk and strong carriage, as they + passed the officers in their negligent dress, with their red and blue + neckties. But John's heart was aching, and he was wondering how he was to + begin on the duty he had to do. + </p> + <p> + From the moment they started she gave herself up to the delights of their + holiday, and even the groaning and cranking and joggling of the train + amused her. When the Guards had got into their first-class carriage they + had glanced at the open window where her brilliant eyes and rosy lips were + gleaming behind a veil. John gazed at her with his slow and tender looks, + and felt guilty and ashamed. + </p> + <p> + They left the train at Slough, and a wave of freshness, with an odour of + verdure and sap, blew into their faces. The dog leaped and barked, and + Glory skipped along with it, breaking every moment into enthusiastic + exclamations. There was hardly any wind, and the clouds, which were very + high overhead, were scarcely moving. It was a glorious day, and Glory's + face wore an expression of perfect happiness. + </p> + <p> + They lunched at the old hotel in the town, with the window open, and the + swallows darting in the air outside, and Glory, who took milk “for + remembrance,” rose and said, “I looks toward Mr. Storm,” and then drank + his health and swept him the prettiest courtesy. All through lunch she + kept feeding the dog from her own fingers, and at the end rebuked him for + spreading his bones in a half circle across the carpet, a thing which was + never done, she said, in the best society, this side the Cannibal Islands. + </p> + <p> + “By-and-bye,” he thought, “time enough by-and-bye,” for the charm of her + joy was infectious. + </p> + <p> + The sun was high when they started on their walk, and her face looked + flushed and warm. But through the park-like district to the wood she raced + with Don, and made him leap over her sunshade and roll over and over on + the bright green grass. The larks were trilling overhead, everything was + humming and singing. + </p> + <p> + “Let her have one happy day,” he thought, and they began to call and shout + to each other. + </p> + <p> + Then they came to the beeches, and, being sheltered from the fiery rays of + the sun, she put down her sunshade and John took off his hat. The silence + and gloom, the great gnarled trees, with their thews and sinews, their + arms and thighs and loins, the gentle rustle of the breeze in the branches + overhead, the deep accumulation of dead leaves underfoot, the fluttering + of wings, the low cooing of pigeons, and all the mystery and wonder of the + wood, brought a sense of awe, as on entering a mighty minster in the dusk. + But this wore away presently, and Glory began to sing. Her pure voice + echoed in the fragrant air, and the happiness so long pent up and starved + seemed to bubble in every word and note. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't this better than singing in music halls?” he thought, and then he + began to sing too, just like any happy boy, without thinking of yesterday + or to-morrow, of before or after. She smiled at him. He smiled back. It + was like a dream. After his long seclusion it was difficult to believe it + could be true. The open air, the perfume of the leaves they were wading + through, the silver bark of the birches and the blue peeps of the sky + between, and then Glory walking with her graceful motion, and laughing and + singing by his side! “I shall wake up in a minute,” he thought, “I'm sure + I shall!” + </p> + <p> + They sang one song together. It was Lasses and Lads, and to make + themselves think it was the old time back again they took each other's + hands and swung them to the tune. He felt her clasp like milk coursing + through his body, and a great wave of tenderness swept up his hard resolve + as sea-wrack is thrown up after a storm. “She is here; we are together; + why trouble about anything more?” and the time flew by. + </p> + <p> + But their voices went wrong immediately, and they were soon in + difficulties. Then she laughed, and they began again; but they could not + keep together, and as often as they tried they failed. “Ah, it's not like + the old days!” he thought, and a mood of sadness came over him. He had + begun to observe in Glory the trace of the life she had passed through—words, + phrases, ideas, snatches of slang, touches of moods which had the note of + a slight vulgarity. When the dog took a bone uninvited she cried: “It's a + click; you've sneaked it”; when John broke down in the singing she told + him to “chuck it off the chest”; and when he stopped altogether she called + him glum, and said she would “do it on her own.” + </p> + <p> + “Why does he look so sorrowful?” she thought, and telling herself that + this came to people who were much alone, she rattled on more recklessly + than before. + </p> + <p> + She talked of the life of the music hall, the life at “the back,” + glorifying it by a tone of apology. It was all hurry-scurry, slap, dash, + and drive; no time to consider effects; a succession of last acts and + first nights; so it was really harder to be a music-hall woman than a + regular actress. And the music-hall woman was no worse than other women—considering. + Had he seen their ballet? It was fetching. Such pages! Simply darlings! <i>They</i> + were the proud young birds of paradise whom toffs like those Guards came + to see, and it was fun to see them pluming and preening themselves at the + back, each for the eyes of her own particular lord in the stalls. Thus she + flung out unfamiliar notes, hardly knowing their purport, but to John they + were as slimy creatures out of the social mire she had struggled through. + O London! London! Its shadow was over them even there, and go where they + would, they could never escape from it. + </p> + <p> + His former thought began to hang about him again, and he asked her to tell + him what had happened to her during his absence. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I?” she said. “Well, I brought three golden sovereigns out of the + hospital to distribute among the people of London, but, bless you, they + went nowhere.” + </p> + <p> + “And what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then—then Hope was a good breakfast but a bad supper, you know. But + shall I tell you all? Yes, yes, I will.” + </p> + <p> + She told him of Mrs. Jupe, and of the deception she had practised upon her + people, and he turned his head that he might not see her tears. She told + him of the “Three Graces,” and of the stage manager—she called him + the “stage damager”—and then <i>she</i> turned her head that she + might hide her shame. She told him of Josephs, the bogus agent, and his + face grew hard and his brown eyes looked black. + </p> + <p> + “And where did you say his place was?” he asked in a voice that vibrated + and broke. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say,” she answered with a laugh and a tear. + </p> + <p> + She told him of Aggie, and of the foreign clubs, and of Koenig, and of the + dinner party at the Home Secretary's, and then she skipped a step and + cried: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Ding, dong, dended, + My tale's ended.” + </pre> + <p> + “And was it there you met Mr. Drake again?” + </p> + <p> + She replied with a nod. + </p> + <p> + “Never having seen him in the meantime?” + </p> + <p> + She pursed her lips and shook her head. “That's all over now, and what + matter? I likes to be jolly and I allwis is!” + </p> + <p> + “But is it all over?” he said, and he looked at her again with the deep + look that had cut into her heart. + </p> + <p> + “He's going to say something,” she thought, and she began to laugh, but + with a faint tremor, and giving the dog her parasol to carry in his mouth, + she took off her hat, swung it in her hand by the brim, and set off to + run. + </p> + <p> + There was the light shimmer of a pool at a level below, where the water + had drained to a bottom and was inclosed by beeches. The trees seemed to + hang over it with outstretched wings, like birds about to alight, and + round its banks there were plots of violets which filled the air with + their fragrance. It was a God-blest bit of ground, and when he came up + with her she was standing at the edge of the marshy mere panting and on + the point of tears, and saying, in a whisper, “Oh, how beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + “But however am I to get across?” she cried, looking with mock terror on + the two inches of water that barely covered the grass, and at the pretty + red shoes that peeped from under her dress. + </p> + <p> + Then something extraordinary occurred. She hardly knew what was happening + until it was over. Without a word, without a smile, he lifted her up in + his arms and carried her to the other side. She felt helpless like a + child, as if suddenly she belonged to herself no longer. Her head had + fallen on his shoulder and her heart was beating against his breast. Or + was it <i>his</i> heart that was beating? When he put her down she was + afraid she was going to cry, so she began to laugh and to say they mustn't + lose that 7.30 to London or the “rag” would be rolling up without her and + the “stage damager” would be using “cuss words.” + </p> + <p> + They had to pass the old church of Stoke Pogis on the way back to the + town, and after looking at its timber belfry and steeple John suggested + that they should see the inside. The sexton was found working in the + garden at the side of the house, and he went indoors for the keys. “Here + they be, sir, and you being a pa'son I'll bide in the orchet. You and your + young missus can look at the church without me. 'A b'lieve 'a hev seed it + afore,” he said with a twinkle. + </p> + <p> + The church was dark and cool. There was a window representing an angel + ascending to heaven against a deep blue sky, and a squire's pew furnished + like a box at the theatre, with a carpet and even a stove. The chairs in + the front bore family crests, and behind them were inferior chairs, + without crests, for the servants. John had opened the little modern organ + and begun to play. After a while he began to sing. He sang Nazareth, and + his voice filled the empty church and went up into the gloom of the roof, + and echoed and returned, and it was almost as if another voice were + singing there. + </p> + <p> + Glory stood by his side and listened; a wonderful peace had come down on + her. Then the emotion that vibrated in his deep voice made something surge + up to her throat. “Life for evermore! Life for evermore!” All at once she + began to weep, to sob, and to laugh in a breath, and he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “How ridiculous I am to-day! You'll think me a maniac,” she said. But he + only took her hand as if she had been a child and led her out of the + church. + </p> + <p> + Insensibly the day had passed into evening, and the horizontal rays of the + sun were dazzling their eyes as they returned to the hotel for tea. In + giving orders for this meal they had left the illustrated weekly behind, + and it was now clear from the easy smiles that greeted them that the paper + had been looked at and Glory identified. The room was ready, with the + table laid, the window closed, and a fire of wood in the dog grate, for + the chill of the evening was beginning to be felt. And to make him forget + what had happened at the church she put on a look of forced gaiety and + talked rapidly, frivolously, and at random. The fresh air had given her + such a colour that they would 'fairly eat her to-night.' How tired she + was, though! But a cup of tea would exhilarate her “like a Johnnie's first + whisky and soda in bed.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with his grave face; every word was cutting him like a + knife. “So you didn't tell the old folks at Glenfaba about the hospital + until later?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Have a cup of the 'girl'? They call champagne 'the boy' at 'the + back,' so I call tea 'the girl,' you know.” + </p> + <p> + “And when did you tell them about the music hall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday. 'Muffins?'” and as she held out the plate she waggled the + wrist of her other hand, and mimicked the cry of the muffin man. + </p> + <p> + “Not until yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + She began to excuse herself. What was the use of taking people by + surprise? And then good people were sometimes so easily shocked! Education + and upbringing, and prejudices and even blood—— + </p> + <p> + “Glory,” he said, “if you are ashamed of this life, believe me it is not a + right one.” + </p> + <p> + “Ashamed? Why should I be ashamed? Everybody is saying how proud I should + be.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke feverishly, and by a sudden impulse she plucked up the paper, + but as suddenly let it drop again, for, looking at his grave face, her + little fame seemed to shrivel up. “But give a dog a bad name you know——You + were there on Monday night. Did you see anything, now—anything in + the performance——” + </p> + <p> + “I saw the audience, Glory; that was enough for me. It is impossible for a + girl to live long in an atmosphere like that and be a good woman. Yes, my + child, impossible' God forbid that I should sit in judgment on any man, + still less on any woman!—but the women of the music hall, do they + remain good women? Poor souls, they are placed in a position so false that + it would require extraordinary virtue not to become false along with it! + And the whiter the soul that is dragged through that—that mire, the + more the defilement. The audiences at such places don't want the white + soul, they don't want the good woman, they want the woman who has tasted + of the tree of good and evil. You can see it in their faces, and hear it + in their laughter, and measure it in their applause. Oh, I'm only a + priest, but I've seen these places all the world over, and I know what I'm + saying, and I know it's true and you know it's true, Glory——” + </p> + <p> + Glory leaped up from the table and her eyes seemed to emit fire. “I know + it's hard and cruel and pitiless, and, since you were there on Monday and + saw how kind the audience was to <i>me</i>, it's personal and untrue as + well.” + </p> + <p> + But her voice broke and she sat down again and said in another tone: “But, + John, it's nearly a year, you know, since we saw each other last, and + isn't it a pity? Tell me, where are you living now? Have you made your + plans for the future? Oh, who do you think was with me just before you + called yesterday? Polly—Polly Love, you remember! She's grown stout + and plainer, poor thing, and I was so sorry——Her brother was + in your Brotherhood, wasn't he? Is he as strangely fond of her as ever? Is + he? Eh? Don't you understand? Polly's brother, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “He's dead, Glory. Yes, dead. He died a month ago. Poor boy, he died + broken-hearted! He had come to hear of his sister's trouble at the + hospital. I was to blame for that. He never looked up again.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence; both were gazing into the fire, and Glory's mouth was + quivering. All at once she said: “John—John Storm, why can't you + understand that it's not the same with me as with other women? There seem + to be two women in me always. After I left the hospital I went through a + good deal. Nobody will ever know how much I went through. But even at the + worst, somehow I seemed to enjoy and rejoice in everything. Things + happened that made me cry, but there was another me that was laughing. And + that's how it is with the life I am living now. It is not I myself that go + through this—this mire, as you call it, it's only my other self, my + lower self, if you like, but I am not touched by it at all. Don't you see + that? Don't you, now?” + </p> + <p> + “There are professions which are a source of temptation, and talents that + are a snare, Glory——” + </p> + <p> + “I see, I see what you mean. There are not many ways a woman can succeed + in—that's the cruelty of things. But there are a few, and I've + chosen the one I'm fit for. And now, now that I've escaped from all that + misery, that meanness, and have brought the eyes of London upon me, and + the world is full of smiles for me, and sunshine, and I am happy, you come + at last, you that I couldn't find when I wanted you so much—oh, so + much!—because you had forgotten me; you come to me out of a darkness + like the grave and tell me to give it all up. Yes, yes, yes, that's what + you mean—give it all up! Oh, it's cruel!” + </p> + <p> + She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. He bent over her with a + sorrowful face and said, “My child, if I have come out of a darkness as of + the grave it is because I had <i>not</i> forgotten you there, but was + thinking of you every day and hour.” + </p> + <p> + Her sobbing ceased, but the tears still flowed through her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Before that poor lad abandoned hope he came out into the world too-stole + out-thinking to find his lost one. I told him to look for you first, and + he went to the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “It was on New Year's Eve. He passed me in the street.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!—Well, he came back anyway, and said you were gone, and all + trace of you was lost. Did I forget you after that, Glory?” + </p> + <p> + His husky voice broke off suddenly, and he rose with a look of + wretchedness. “You are right, there are two selves in you, and the higher + self is so pure, so strong, so unselfish, so noble—Oh, I am sure of + it, Glory! Only there's no one to speak to it, no one. I try, but I can + not.” + </p> + <p> + She was still crying behind her hands. + </p> + <p> + “And meanwhile the lower self—there are only too many to speak to <i>that</i>——” + </p> + <p> + Her hands came down from her disordered face and she said, “I know whom + you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean the world.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, you mean Mr. Drake. But you are mistaken. Mr. Drake has been + a good friend to me, but he isn't anything else, and doesn't want to be. + Can't you see that when you think of me and talk of me as you would of + some other women you hurt me and degrade me, and I can not bear it? You + see I am crying again—goodness knows why. But I sha'n't give up my + profession. The idea of such a thing! It's ridiculous! Think of Glory in a + convent! One of the poor Clares perhaps!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” + </p> + <p> + “Or back in the island serving out sewing at a mothers' meeting! Give it + up! Indeed I won't!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall and you must!” + </p> + <p> + “Who'll make me?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> will!” + </p> + <p> + Then she laughed out wildly, but stopped on the instant and looked up at + him with glistening eyes. An intense blush came over her face, and her + looks grew bright as his grew fierce. A moment afterward the waiting maid, + with an inquisitive expression, was clearing the table and keeping a smile + in reserve for “the lovers' quarrel!” + </p> + <p> + Some of the Guardsmen were in the train going back, and at the next + station they changed to the carriage in which Glory and John were sitting. + Apparently they had dined before leaving their club at Maidenhead, and + they talked at Glory with covert smiles. “Going to the Colosseum tonight?” + said one. “If there's time,” said another. “Oh, time enough. The + attraction doesn't begin till ten, don't you know, and nobody goes + before.” “Tell me she's rippin'.” “Good—deuced good.” + </p> + <p> + Glory was sitting with her back to the engine drumming lightly on the + window and looking out at the setting sun. At first she felt a certain + shame at the obvious references, but, piqued at John's silence, she began + to take pride in them, and shot glances at him from under half-closed + eyelids. John was sitting opposite with his arms folded. At the talk of + the men he felt his hands contract and his lips grow cold with the feeling + that Glory belonged to everybody now and was common property. Once or + twice he looked at them and became conscious of an impression, which had + floated about him since he left the Brotherhood, that nearly every face he + saw bore the hideous stamp of self-indulgence and sensuality. + </p> + <p> + But the noises of the train helped him not to hear, and he looked out for + London. It lay before them under a canopy of smoke, and now and then a + shaft from the setting sun lit up a glass roof and it glittered like a + sinister eye. Then there came from afar, over the creaking and groaning of + the wheels and the whistle of the engine, the deep, multitudinous murmur + of that distant sea. The mighty tide was rising and coming up to meet + them. Presently they were dashing into the midst of it, and everything was + drowned in the splash and roar. + </p> + <p> + The Guardsmen, being on the platform side, alighted first, and on going + off they bowed to Glory with rather more than easy manners. A dash of the + devil prompted her to respond demonstratively, but John had risen and was + taking off his hat to the men, and they were going away discomfited. Glory + was proud of him—he was a man and a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + He put her into a hansom under the lamps outside the station, and her face + was lit up, but she patted the dog and said: “You have vexed me and you + needn't come to see me again. I shall not sing properly this evening or + sleep tonight at all, if that is any satisfaction to you, so you needn't + trouble to inquire.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + When he reached home Mrs. Callender told him of a shocking occurrence at + the fashionable wedding at All Saints' that morning. A young woman had + committed suicide during the ceremony, and it turned out to be the poor + girl who had been dismissed from the hospital. + </p> + <p> + John Storm remembered Brother Paul. “I must bury her,” he thought. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. + </h2> + <p> + Glory sang that night with extraordinary vivacity and charm and was called + back again and again. Going home in the cab she tried to live through the + day afresh—every step, every act, every word, down to that + triumphant “<i>I</i> will.” Her thoughts swayed as with the swaying of the + hansom, but sometimes the thunderous applause of the audience broke in, + and then she had to remember where she had left off. She could feel that + beating against her breast still, and even smell the violets that grew by + the pool. He had told her to give up everything, and there was an + exquisite thrill in the thought that perhaps some day she would annihilate + herself and all her ambitions, and—who knows what then? + </p> + <p> + This mood lasted until Monday morning, when she was sitting in her room, + dressing very slowly and smiling at herself in the glass, when the Cockney + maid came in with a newspaper which her master had sent up on account of + its long report of the wedding. + </p> + <p> + “The Church of All Saints' was crowded by a fashionable congregation, + among whom were many notable persons in the world of politics and society, + including the father of the bridegroom, the Duke of —— and his + brother, the Marquis of ——. An arch of palms crossed the nave + at the entrance to the chancel, and festoons of rare flowers were + suspended from the rails of the handsome screen. The altar and the table + of the commandments were almost obscured by the wreaths of exotics that + hung over them, and the columns of the colonnade, the font and offertory + boxes were similarly buried in rich and lovely blossom. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to an informal rehearsal some days before, the ceremony went off + without a hitch. The officiating clergy were the Venerable Archdeacon + Wealthy, D. D., assisted by the Rev. Josiah Golightly and other members of + the numerous staff of All Saints'. The service, which was fully choral, + was under the able direction of the well-known organist and choirmaster, + Mr. Carl Koenig, F. R. C. O., and the choir consisted of twenty adult and + forty boy voices. On the arrival of the bride a procession was formed at + the west entrance and proceeded up to the chancel, singing 'The voice that + breathed o'er Eden——” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Polly!” thought Glory. + </p> + <p> + “The bride wore a duchess satin gown trimmed with chiffon and Brussels + lace, and having a long train hung from the shoulders. Her tulle veil was + fastened with a ruby brooch and with sprays of orange blossom sent + specially from the Riviera, and her necklace consisted of a rope of + graduated pearls fully a yard long, and understood to have belonged to the + jewel case of Catharine of Russia. She carried a bouquet of flowers (the + gift of the bridegroom) brought from Florida, the American home of her + family. The bride's mother wore—— The bridesmaids were dressed——Mr. + Horatio Drake acted as best man——” + </p> + <p> + Glory drew her breath as with a spasm and threw down the newspaper. How + blind she had been, how vain, how foolish! She had told John Storm that + Drake was only a good friend to her, meaning him to understand that thus + far she allowed him to go and no farther. But there was a whole realm of + his life into which he did not ask her to enter. The “notable persons in + politics and society,” “the bridesmaids,” these made up his real sphere, + his serious scene. Other women were his friends, companions, equals, + intimates, and when he stood in the eye of the world it was they who stood + beside him. And she? She was his hobby. He came to her in his off hours. + She filled up the under side of his life. + </p> + <p> + With a crushing sense of humiliation she was folding up the newspaper to + send it downstairs when her eye was arrested by a paragraph in small type + in the corner. It was headed “Shocking occurrence at a fashionable + wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good gracious!” she cried. A glance had shown her what it was. It was + a report of Polly's suicide. + </p> + <p> + “At a fashionable wedding at a West-End church on Saturday” (no names) “a + young woman who had been sitting in the nave was seen to rise and attempt + to step into the aisle, as if with the intention of crushing her way out, + when she fell back in convulsions, and on being removed was found to be + dead. Happily, the attention of the congregation was at the moment + directed to the bride and bridegroom, who were returning from the vestry + with the bridal party behind them, and thus the painful incident made no + sensation among the crowded congregation. The body was removed to the + parish mortuary, and from subsequent inquiries it transpired that death + had been due to poison self-administered, and that the deceased was + Elizabeth Anne Love (twenty-four), of no occupation, but formerly a nurse—a + circumstance which had enabled her to procure half a grain of liquor + strychninae on her own signature at a chemist's where she had been known.” + </p> + <p> + “O God! O God!” Glory understood everything now. “I've a great mind to go + to All Saints' and shame them—Oh, it isn't the police I'm afraid + of.” Polly's purpose was clear. She had intended to fall dead at the feet + of the bride and bridegroom and make them walk over her body. Poor, + foolish, ineffectual Polly! Her very ghost must be ashamed of the failure + of her revenge. Not a ripple of sensation on Saturday, and this morning + only a few obscure lines in little letters! + </p> + <p> + Oh, it was hideous! The poor thing's vengeance was theatrical and paltry, + but what of the man, wherever he was? What did he think of himself now, + with his millions and his murder? Yes, his murder, for what else was it? + </p> + <p> + An hour later Glory was ringing the bell of a little house in St. John's + Wood whereof the upper blinds were drawn. The grating of the garden door + slid back and an untidy head looked out. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember me, Liza?” + </p> + <p> + “Lawd, yus, miss!” and the door was opened immediately; “but I was afeard + you was one o' them reportin' people, and my orders is not to answer no + questions.”' + </p> + <p> + “Has <i>he</i> been here, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Blesh ye, no, miss! He's on 'is way to the Continents. But 'is friend + 'as, and he's settled everything 'andsome—I will say that for the + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + Glory felt her gall rising; there was something degrading, almost + disreputable, even in the loyalty of Drake's friendship. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy Liza not knowing you, miss, and me at the moosic 'all a Tuesday + night! I 'ope you'll excuse the liberty, but I <i>did</i> laugh, and I + won't say but I shed a few tears too. Arranged? Yes, the jury and the + coroner and every-think. It's to be at twelve o'clock, so you may think + I've 'ad my 'ands full. But you'll want to look at 'er, pore thing! Go up, + miss, and mind yer 'ead; there's nobody but 'er friends with 'er now.” + </p> + <p> + The friends proved to be Betty Belmont and her dressing-room companions. + When Glory entered they showed no surprise. “The pore child told us all + about you,” said Betty; and the little one said: “It's your nyme that + caught on, dear. The minute I heard it I said what a top-line for a, + bill!” + </p> + <p> + It was the same little bandbox of a bedroom, only now it was darkened and + Polly's troubles were over. There was a slightly convulsed look about the + mouth, but the features were otherwise calm and childlike, for all the + dead are innocent. + </p> + <p> + The three women with demure faces were sipping Benedictine and talking + among themselves, and Polly's pug dog was coiled up on the bare bolster + and snoring audibly. + </p> + <p> + “Pore thing! I don't know how she could 'a done it. But there, that's the + worst of this life! It's all in the present and leads to nothing and ain't + got no future.” “What could the pore thing do? She wasn't so wonderful + pretty; and then men like——” “She was str'ight with him, say + what yer like. Only she ought to been more patienter, and she needn't 'a + been so hard on the lady, neither.” “She had everything the heart could + wish. Look at her rooms! I wonder who'll——” + </p> + <p> + Carriages were heard outside, and two or three men came in to do the last + offices. Glory had turned her face away, but behind her the women were + still talking. “Wait a minute, mister! ... What a lovely ring! ... I wish + I had a keepsake to remember her by.” “Well, and why not? She won't want——” + </p> + <p> + Glory felt as if she was choking, but Polly's pug dog had been awakened by + the commotion and was beginning to howl, so she took up the little mourner + and carried it out. An organ-man somewhere near was playing Sweet Marie. + </p> + <p> + The funeral was at Kensal Green, and the four girls were the only + followers. The coroner's verdict being <i>felo-de-se</i>, the body was not + taken into the chapel, but a clergyman met it at the gate and led the way + to the grave. Walking with her head down and the dog under her arm, Glory + had not seen him at first, but when he began with the tremendous words, “I + am the resurrection and the life,” she caught her breath and looked up. It + was John Storm. + </p> + <p> + While they were in the carriage the clouds had been gathering, and now + some spots of rain were falling. When the bearers had laid down their + burden the spots were large and frequent, and all save one of the men + turned and went back to the shelter of the porch. The three women looked + at each other, and one of them muttered something about “the dead and the + living,” and then the little lady stole away. After a moment the tall one + followed her, and from shame of being ashamed the third one went off also. + </p> + <p> + By this time the rain was falling in a sharp shower, and John Storm, who + was bareheaded, had opened his book and begun to read: “Forasmuch as it + hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul + of our dear sister here departed——” + </p> + <p> + Then he saw that Glory was alone by the graveside, and his voice faltered + and almost failed him. It faltered again, and he halted when he came to + the “sure and certain hope,” but after a moment it quivered and filled out + and seemed to say, “Which of us can sound the depths of God's design?” + After the “maimed rites” were over, John Storm went back to the chapel to + remove his surplice, and when he returned to the grave Glory was gone. + </p> + <p> + She sang as usual at the music hall that night, but with a heavy heart. + The difference communicated itself to the audience, and the unanimous + applause which had greeted her before frayed off at length into separate + hand-claps. Crossing the stage to her dressing-room she met Koenig, who + came to conduct for her, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “Not quite yourself to-night, my dear, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Going home in the hansom, Polly's dog coddled up with the old sympathy to + the new mistress, and seemed to be making the best of things. The + household was asleep, and Glory let herself in with a latch-key. Her cold + supper was laid ready, and a letter was lying under the turned-down lamp. + It was from her grandfather, and had been written after church on Sunday + night: + </p> + <p> + “It is now so long—more than a year—since I saw my runaway and + truant that, notwithstanding the protests of Aunt Anna and the forebodings + of Aunt Rachel, I have determined to give my old legs a journey and my old + eyes a treat. Therefore take warning that I intend to come up to London + forthwith, that I may see the great city for the first time in my life, + and—which is better—my little granddaughter among all her new + friends and in the midst of her great prosperity.” + </p> + <p> + At the foot of this there was a postscript from Aunt Rachel, hastily + scrawled in pencil: + </p> + <p> + “Take no notice of this. He is far too weak to travel, and indeed he is + really failing; but your letter, which reached us last night, has so + troubled him ever since that he can't take rest for thinking of it.” + </p> + <p> + It was the last straw. Before finishing the letter or taking off her hat, + Glory took up a telegraph form and wrote, “Postpone journey—am + returning home to-morrow.” Then she heard Koenig letting himself into the + house, and going downstairs she said: + </p> + <p> + “Will you take this message to the telegraph office for me, please?” + </p> + <p> + “Vhy, of course I vill, and den ve'll have supper togeder—look!” and + he laughed and opened a paper and drew out a string of sausages. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Koenig,” she said, “you were right. I was not myself to-night. I want + a rest, and I propose to take one.” + </p> + <p> + As Glory returned upstairs she heard stammerings, sputterings, and + swearings behind her about managers, engagements, announcements, geniuses, + children, and other matters. Back in her room she lay down on the floor, + with her face in her hands, and sobbed. Then Koenig appeared, panting and + saying: “Dere! I knew vhat vould happen! Here's a pretty ting! And dat's + vhy Mr. Drake told me to deny you to de man. De brute, de beast, de dirty + son of a monk!” + </p> + <p> + But Glory had leaped up with eyes of fire, and was crying: “How dare you, + sir? Out of my room this instant!” + </p> + <p> + “Mein Gott! It's a divil!” Koenig was muttering like a servant as he went + downstairs. He went out to the telegraph office and came back, and then + Glory heard him frying his sausages on the dining-room fire. + </p> + <p> + The night was far gone when she pushed aside her untouched supper, and, + wiping her eyes, that she might see properly, sat down to write a letter. + </p> + <p> + “Dear John Storm (monk, monster, or whatever it is!): I trust it will be + counted to me for righteousness that I am doing your bidding and giving up + my profession—for the present. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Between a woman's 'yes' and 'no' + There isn't room for a pin to go, +</pre> + <p> + which is very foolish of her in this instance, considering that she is + earning various pounds a night and has nothing but Providence to fall back + upon. I have told my jailer I must have my liberty, and, being a man of + like passions with yourself, he has been busy blaspheming in the parlour + downstairs. I trust virtue will be its own reward, for I dare say it is + all I shall ever get. If I were Narcissus I should fall in love with + myself to-day, having shown an obedience to tyranny which is beautiful and + worthy of the heroic age. But to-morrow morning I go back to the 'oilan,' + and it will be so nice up there without anybody and all alone!” + </p> + <p> + She was laughing softly to herself as she wrote, and catching her breath + with a little sob at intervals. + </p> + <p> + “A letter now and then is profitable to the soul of man—and—woman; + but you must not expect to hear from <i>me</i>, and as for you, though you + <i>have</i> resurrected yourself, I suppose a tyrant of your opinions will + continue the Benedictine rule which compels you to hold your peace—and + other things. I am engaged to breakfast with a nice girl named Glory + Quayle to-morrow morning—that is to say, <i>this</i> morning—at + Euston Station at a quarter to seven, but happily this letter won't reach + you until 7.30, so I'll just escape interruption.” + </p> + <p> + The house was still and the streets were quiet, not even a cab going + along. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye! I've realized—a dog! It's a pug, and therefore, like + somebody else, it always looks black at me, though I suspect its father + married beneath him, for it talks a good deal, and evidently hasn't been + brought up in a Brotherhood. Therefore, being a 'female,' I intend to call + it Aunt Anna—except when the original is about. Aunt Anna has been + hopping up and down the room at my heels for the last hour, evidently + thinking that a rational woman would behave better if she went to bed. + Perhaps I shall take a leaf out of your book and 'comb her hair,' when I + get her all alone in the train to-morrow, that she may be prepared for the + new sphere to which it has pleased Providence to call her. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye again! I see the lamps of Euston running after each other, only + it's the <i>other</i> way this time. I find there is something that seizes + you with a fiercer palpitation than coming <i>into</i> a great and + wonderful city, and that is going out of one. Dear old London! After all, + it has been very good to me. No one, it seems to me, loves it as much as I + do. Only somebody thinks—well, never mind! Goodbye 'for all!' + Glory.” + </p> + <p> + At seven next morning, on the platform at Euston, Glory was standing with + melancholy eyes at the door of a first-class compartment watching the + people sauntering up and down, talking in groups and hurrying to and fro, + when Drake stepped up to her. She did not ask what had brought him—she + knew. He looked fresh and handsome, and was faultlessly dressed. + </p> + <p> + “You are doing quite right, my dear,” he said in a cheerful voice. “Koenig + telegraphed, and I came to see you off. Don't bother about the theatre; + leave everything to me. Take a rest after your great excitement, and come + back bright and well.” + </p> + <p> + The locomotive whistled and began to pant, the smoke rose to the roof, the + train started, and before Glory knew she was going she was gone. + </p> + <p> + Then Drake walked to his club and wrote this postscript to a letter to + Lord Robert Ure, at the Grand Hotel, Paris: “The Parson has drawn first + blood, and Gloria has gone home!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. + </h2> + <p> + On the Sunday evening after Glory's departure John Storm, with the + bloodhound running by his side, made his way to Soho in search of the + mother of Brother Andrew. He had come to a corner of a street where the + walls of an ugly brick church ran up a narrow court and turned into a + still narrower lane at the back. The church had been for some time + disused, and its facade was half covered with boardings and plastered with + placards: “Brighton and Back, 3<i>s</i>.”; “<i>Lloyd's News</i>”; “Coals, + 1<i>s</i>. a cwt.”; and “Barclay's Sparkling Ales.” + </p> + <p> + There was a tumult in the court and lane. In the midst of a close-packed + ring of excited people, chiefly foreigners, shouting in half the languages + of Europe, a tall young Cockney, with bloated face and eyes aflame with + drink, was writhing and wrestling and cursing. Sometimes he escaped from + the grasp of the man who held him, and then he flung himself against the + closed door of a shop which stood opposite, with the three balls of the + pawnbroker suspended above it. Somebody within the shop was howling for + help. It was a woman's voice, and the louder she screamed the more violent + were the man's efforts to beat down the door between them. + </p> + <p> + As John Storm stood a moment looking on, some one on the street beside him + said, “It's a d—— shyme.” It was a man with a feeble, + ineffectual face and the appearance of a waiter. Seeing he had been + overheard, the man stammered: “Beg parding, sir; but they may well say + 'when the Devil can't come hisself 'e sends 'is brother Drink.'” Having + said this he began to move along, but stopped suddenly on seeing what the + clergyman with the dog was doing. + </p> + <p> + John Storm was pushing his way through the crowd, and his black figure in + that writhing ring of undersized foreigners looked big and commanding. + “What's this?” he was saying in a husky voice that rose clear above the + clamour. The shouting and swearing subsided, all save the howling from the + inside of the shop, and the tumult settled down in a moment to mutterings + and gnashings and a broken and irregular silence. + </p> + <p> + Then somebody said, “It's nothink, sir.” And somebody else said, “'Es on'y + drunk, and wantin' to pench 'is mother.” Without listening to this + explanation John Storm had laid hold of the young man by the collar and + was dragging him, struggling and fuming, from the door. + </p> + <p> + “What's going on?” he demanded. “Will nobody speak?” + </p> + <p> + Then a poor swaggering imitation of a man came up out of the cellar of a + house that stood next to the disused church, and a comely young woman + carrying a baby followed close behind him. He had a gin bottle in his + hands, and with a wink he said: “A christenin'—that's what's going + on. 'Ave a kepple o' pen'orth of 'ollands, old gel?” + </p> + <p> + At this sally the crowd recovered its audacity and laughed, and the + drunken man began to say that he could “knock spots out of any bloomin' + parson, en' now bloomin' errer.” + </p> + <p> + But the young fellow with the gin bottle broke in again. “What's yer gime, + mister? Preach the gawspel? Give us trecks? This is my funeral, down't ye + know, and I'd jest like to hear.” + </p> + <p> + The little foreigners were enjoying the parson-baiting, and the drunken + man's courage was rising to fever heat. “I'll give 'im one-two between the + eyes if 'e touches me again.” Then he flung himself on the pawnshop like a + battering ram, the howling inside, which had subsided, burst out afresh, + and finally the door was broken down. + </p> + <p> + Half a minute afterward the crowd was making a wavering dance about the + two men. “Look out, ducky!” the young fellow shouted to John. The warning + came too late—John went reeling backward from a blow. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my lads, who says next?” cried the drunken ruffian. But before the + words were out of his mouth there was a growl, a plunge, a snarl, and he + was full length on the street with the bloodhound's muzzle at his throat. + </p> + <p> + The crowd shrieked and began to fly. Only one person seemed to remain. It + was an elderly woman, with dry and straggling gray hair. She had come out + of the pawnshop and thrown herself on the dog in an effort to rescue the + man underneath, crying: “My son—oh, my son! It'll kill him! Tyke the + beast away!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm called the dog off, and the man got up unhurt, and nearly + sober. But the woman continued to moan over the ruffian and to assail John + and his dog with bitter insults. “We want no truck with parsons 'ere,” she + shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Stou thet, mother. It was my fault,” said the sobered man, and then the + woman began to cry. At the next minute John Storm was going with mother + and son into the shut-up pawnshop, and the unhinged door was being propped + behind them. + </p> + <p> + The crowd was trailing off when he came out again half an hour afterward, + and the only commotion remaining was caused by a belated policeman asking, + “Wot's bin the matter 'ere?” and by the young fellow with the gin bottle + performing a step-dance on the pavement before the entrance to the cellar. + The old woman stood at her door wiping her eyes on her apron, and her son + was behind with a face that was now red from other causes than drink and + rage. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Mrs. Pincher; I may see you again soon.” + </p> + <p> + Hearing this, the young swaggerer stopped his step-dancing and cried: + “What cheer, myte? Was it a blowter and a cup of cawfy?” + </p> + <p> + “For shynie, Charlie!” cried the girl with a baby, and the young fellow + answered, “Shut yer 'ead, Aggie!” + </p> + <p> + The waiter was still at the corner of the court, and when John came up he + spoke again. “There must be sem amoosement knockin' women abart, but I + can't see it myself.” Then in a simple way he began to talk about his + “missis,” and what a good creature she was, and finally announced himself + “gyme” to help a parson “as stood up to that there drunken blowke for sake + of a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your name?” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Jupe,” said the man, and then something stirred in John's memory. + </p> + <p> + On the following day John Storm dined with his uncle at Downing Street. + The Prime Minister was waiting in the library. In evening dress, with his + back to the fireplace and his hands enlaced behind him, he looked even + more thin and gaunt than before. He welcomed John with a few familiar + words and a smile. His smile was brief and difficult, like that which + drags across the face of an invalid. Dinner was announced immediately, and + the old man took the young one's arm and they passed into the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + The panelled chamber looked cold and cheerless. It was lighted by a single + lamp in the middle of the table. They took their seats at opposite sides. + The statesman's thin hair shone on his head like streaks of silver. John + exercised a strong physical influence upon him, and all through the dinner + his bleak face kept smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to apologize for having nobody to meet you, but I had something + to say—something to suggest—and I thought perhaps——” + </p> + <p> + John interrupted with affectionate protestations, and a tremor passed over + the wrinkles about the old man's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is a great happiness to me, my dear boy, that you have turned your + back on that Brotherhood, but I presume you intend to adhere to the + Church?” + </p> + <p> + John intended to take priest's orders without delay, and then go on with + his work as a clergyman. + </p> + <p> + “Just so, just so”—the long, tapering fingers drummed on the table—“and + I should like to do something to help you.” + </p> + <p> + Then sipping at his wine-glass of water, the Prime Minister, in his slow, + deep voice and official tone, began to detail his scheme. There was a + bishopric vacant. It was only a colonial one—the Bishopric of + Colombo. The income was small, no more than seventeen hundred pounds, the + work was not light, and there were fifty clergy. Then a colonial bishopric + was not usually a stepping-stone to preferment at home, yet still—— + </p> + <p> + John interrupted again. “You are most kind, uncle, but I am only looking + forward to living the life of a poor priest, out of sight of the world and + the Church.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely Colombo is sufficiently out of sight, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “But I see no necessity to leave London.” + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister glanced at him steadily, with the concentrated + expression of a man who is accustomed to penetrate the thoughts and + feelings of another. + </p> + <p> + “Why then—why did you——” + </p> + <p> + “Why did I leave the monastery, uncle? Because I had come to see that the + monastic system was based on a faulty ideal of Christianity, which had + been tried for the greater part of nineteen hundred years and failed. The + theory of monasticism is that Christ died to redeem our carnal nature, and + all we have to do is to believe and pray. But it is not enough that Christ + died once. He must be dying always—every day—and in every one + of us. God is calling on us in this age to seek a new social application + of the Gospel, or, shall I say, to go back to the old one?” + </p> + <p> + “And that is——?” + </p> + <p> + “To present Christ in practical life as the living Master and King and + example, and to apply Christianity to the life of our own time.” + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister had not taken his eyes off him. “What does this mean?” + he had asked himself, but he only smiled his difficult smile and began to + talk lightly. If this creed applied to the individual it applied also to + the State; but think of a cabinet conducting the affairs of a nation on + the charming principle of “taking no thought for the morrow,” and “loving + your enemies,” and “turning the other cheek,” and “selling all and giving + to the poor”! + </p> + <p> + John stuck to his guns. If the Christian religion could not be the + ultimate authority to rule a Christian nation, it was only because we + lacked faith and trusted too much to mechanical laws made by statesmen + rather than to moral laws made by Christ. “Either the life of Christ, as + the highest standard and example, means something or it means nothing. If + something, let us try to follow it; but if nothing, then for God's sake + let us put it away as a cruel, delusive, and damnable mummery!” + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister continued to ask himself, “What is the key to this?” + and to look at John as he would have looked at a problem that had to be + solved, but he only went on smiling and talking lightly. It was true we + said a prayer and took an oath on the Bible in the Houses of Parliament, + but did anybody think for a moment that we intended to trust the nation to + the charming romanticism of the politics of Jesus? As for the Church, it + was founded on acts of Parliament, it was endowed and established by the + State, its head was the sovereign, its clergy were civil servants who went + to levées and hung on the edge of drawing-rooms and troubled the knocker + of No. 10 Downing-Street. And as for Christ's laws—in this country + they were interpreted by the Privy Council and were under the direct + control of a State department. Still, it was a harmless superstition that + we were a Christian nation. It helped to curb the masses of the people, + and if that was what John was thinking of—— + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister paused and stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, my boy,” touching John's arm, “do you intend yourself to live—in + short, the—well, after the example of the life of Christ?” + </p> + <p> + “As far as my weak and vain and sinful nature will permit, uncle!” + </p> + <p> + “And in what way would you propose to apply your new idea of + Christianity?” + </p> + <p> + “My experiment would be made on a social basis, sir, and first of all in + relation to women.” John was hot all over, and his face had flushed up to + the eyes. + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister glanced stealthily across the table, passed his thin + hand across his forehead, and thought, “So that's how it is!” But John was + deep in his theme and saw nothing. The present position of women was + intolerable. Upon the well-being of women, especially of working women, + the whole welfare of society rested. Yet what was their condition? Think + of it—their dependence on man, their temptations, their rewards, + their punishments! Three halfpence an hour was the average wage of a + working woman in England!—and that in the midst of riches, in the + heart of luxury, and with one easy and seductive means of escape from + poverty always open. Ruin lay in wait for them, and was beckoning them and + enticing them in the shape of dancing houses and music halls and rich and + selfish men. + </p> + <p> + “Not one man in a million, sir, would come through such an ordeal + unharmed. And yet what do we do?—what does the Church do for these + brave creatures on whose virtue and heroism the welfare of the nation + depends? If they fall it cuts them off, and there is nothing before them + but the streets or crime or the Union or suicide. And meanwhile it marries + the men who have tempted them to the snug and sheltered darlings for whose + wealth or rank or beauty they have been pushed aside. Oh, uncle, when I + walk down Regent Street in the daytime I am angry, but when I walk down + Regent Street at night I am ashamed. And then to think of the terrible + solitude of London to working girls who want to live pure lives—the + terrible spiritual loneliness!” + </p> + <p> + John's voice was breaking, but the Prime Minister had almost ceased to + hear. Thinking he had realized the truth at last, his own youth seemed to + be sitting before him and he felt a deep pity. + </p> + <p> + “Coffee here or in the library, your lordship?” said the man at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “The library,” he answered, and taking John's arm again he returned to the + other room. There was a fire burning now, and a book lay under the lamp on + a little table, with a silver paper-cutter through the middle to mark the + page. + </p> + <p> + “How you remind me of your mother sometimes, John! That was just like her + voice, do you know—just!” + </p> + <p> + Two hours afterward he led John Storm down the long corridor to the hall. + His bleak face looked soft and his deep voice had a slight tremor. + “Good-night, my dear boy, and remember your money is always waiting for + you. Until your Christian social state is established you are only an + advocate of socialism, and may fairly use your own. If yours is the + Christianity of the first century it has to exist in the nineteenth, you + know. You can't live on air or fly without wings. I shall be curious to + see what approach, to the Christian ideal the condition of civilization + admits of. Yet I don't know what your religious friends and the humdrum + herd will think of you—mad probably, or at least weak and childish + and perhaps even a hunter after easy popularity. But good-night, and God + bless you in, your people's church and Devil's Acre!” + </p> + <p> + John was flushed and excited. He had been talking of his plans, his hopes, + his expectations. God would provide for him in this as in everything, and + then God's priest ought to be God's poor. Meantime two gentlemen in plush + waited for him at the door. One handed him his hat, the other his stick + and gloves. + </p> + <p> + Then with regular steps, and his hands behind him, the Prime Minister + paced back through the quiet corridors. Returning to the library, he took + up his book and tried to read. It was a novel, but he could not attend to + the incidents in other people's lives. From time to time he said to + himself: “Poor boy! Will he find her? Will he save her?” One pathetic idea + had fixed itself on his mind—John Storm's love of God was love of a + woman, and she was fallen and wrecked and lost. + </p> + <p> + A fortnight later John wrote to Glory: + </p> + <p> + “Fairly under weigh at last, dear Glory! Taken priest's orders, got the + Bishop's 'license to officiate,' and found myself a church. It is St. Mary + Magdalene's, Crown Street, Soho, a district that has borne for three + hundred years the name of the 'Devil's Acre,' bears it still, and deserves + it. The church is an old proprietary place, licensed, not consecrated, + formerly belonging to Greek, or Italian, or French, or some other + refugees, but long shut up and now much out of repair. Present owners, a + company of Greek merchants, removed from Soho to the City, and being too + poor (as trustees) to renovate the structure, they have forced me to get + money for that purpose from my uncle, the Prime Minister. But the money is + my own, apparently, my uncle having in my interest demanded from my father + ten thousand pounds out of my mother's dowry, and got it. And now I am + spending two thousand on the repair of my church buildings, + notwithstanding the protests of the Prime Minister, who calls me 'chaplain + to the Greek-Turks,' and of Mrs. Callender, who has discovered that I am a + 'maudlin, sentimental, daft young spendthrift.' Dare say I am all that and + a good deal more, as the wise world counts wisdom—but it matters + little! + </p> + <p> + “Have not waited for the workmen, though, to begin operations. Took first + services last Sunday. No organist, no choir, no clerk, and next to no + congregation. Just the church cleaner, a good, simple old soul named + Pincher, her son, a reformed drunkard and pawnbroker, and another convert + who is a club waiter. Nevertheless, I went through the whole service, + morning and evening, prayers, psalms, and sermon. God will be the more + glorified. + </p> + <p> + “Have started my new crusade on behalf of women, too, and made various + processions of three persons through the streets of Soho. First, my + pawnbroker bearing the banner (a white cross, the object of various + missiles), next my waiter carrying a little harmonium, and familiarly + known as the 'organ man,' and finally myself in my cassock. Last mentioned + proves to be a highly popular performance, being generally understood to + be a man in a black petticoat. We have had a nightly accompaniment of a + much larger procession, though, calling themselves 'Skellingtons,' + otherwise the 'Skeletons,' an army of low women and roughs; who live + vulture lives on this poor, soiled, grimy, forgotten world. Thank God, the + ground of evil-doers is in danger, and they know it! + </p> + <p> + “Behind my church, in a dark, unwholesome alley called. Crook Lane, we + have a clergy house, at present let out in tenements, the cellar being + occupied as a gin shop. As soon as these premises can be cleared of their + encumbrances I shall turn them into a club for working girls. Why not? In + the old days the Church came to the people: let it come to the people now. + Here we are in the midst of this mighty stronghold of the devil's kingdom + of sin and crime. Foreign clubs, casinos, dancing academies, and gambling + houses are round about us. What are we to do? Put up a forest of props (as + at the Abbey) and keep off touch and contamination? God forbid! Let us go + down into these dens of moral disease and disinfect them. The poor working + girls, of Soho want their Sunday: give it them. They want music and + singing: give it them. They want dancing: give them that also, for God's + sake, give it them in your churches, or the devil will give it them in his + hells! + </p> + <p> + “Expect to be howled at of course. Some good people will think I am either + a fanatic or an artful schemer, while the clerical place-seekers, who love + the flesh-pots of Egypt and have their eyes on the thrones of the Church + and the world, will denounce my 'secularity' and tell me I am feeding the + 'miry troughs' of the publican and sinner. No matter, if only God is + pleased to vouchsafe 'signs following.' And one weary-faced lonely girl, + grown fresh of countenance and happy of mien, or one bright little woman, + snatched from the brink of perdition, will be a better fruit, of religion + than some of them have seen for many a year. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as the workmen have cleared out I am going to establish a daily + service and keep the church open always. Still at Mrs. Callender's, you + see; but I am refusing all invitations, except as a priest, and already I + don't seem to, have time to draw my breath. No income connected with St. + Mary Magdalene's, or next to none, just enough to pay the caretaker; but I + must not complain of that, for it is the accident to which I owe my + church, nobody else wanting it under the circumstances. I had begun to + think my time in the monastery wasted, but God knew better. It will help + me to live the life of poverty, of purity, of freedom from the world. + </p> + <p> + “Love to the grandfather and the ladies. How I wish you were with me in + the thick of the fight! Sometimes I dream you are, too, and I fancy I see + you in the midst of these bright young things with their flowers and + feathers—they will make beautiful Christians yet! Oddly enough, on + the day you travelled to the island, every hour that took you farther away + seemed to bring you nearer. Greetings!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. + </h2> + <p> + “Glenfaba, 'the Oilan.' + </p> + <p> + “Oh, gracious and grateful friend, at length you have remembered the + existence of the 'poor lone crittur' living in dead-alive land! Only that + I lack gall to make oppression bitter, I should of course return your + belated epistle by the Dead Letter Office, marked 'Unknown' across your + 'Dear Glory,' there being no longer anybody in these regions who has a + plausible claim to that dubious title. But, alas! I am not my own woman + now, and with tears of shame I acknowledge that <i>any</i> letter from + London comes like an angel's whisper breathed to me through the air. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you have been unreasonable enough to think that I ought to + have written to tell you of my arrival; and knowing that man is born to + vanity as the sparks fly upward, I have more than once intended to take + pen in hand and write; but there is something so sleepy in this island + atmosphere that my good resolution has hitherto been a stillborn babe that + has breathed but never cried! + </p> + <p> + “Know then that my journey hither was performed with due celerity and no + further disaster than befalls me when, as usual, I have <i>done</i> those + things which I ought not to have done, and left <i>undone</i> those things + which I ought to have done—the former in this instance having + reference to various bouts of crying—which drew forth the sympathy + of a compassionate female sharper in the train—and the latter to the + catch of my sachel, which enabled that obliging person to draw forth my + embroidered pocket-handkerchief in exchange. + </p> + <p> + “I was in good time for the steamboat at Liverpool, and it was crowded, + according to its wont, with the Lancashire lads and lasses, in whom + affection is as contagious as the mumps. Being in the dumps myself on + sailing out of the river, and thinking of the wild excitement with which I + had sailed into it, I think I should have found that I had not <i>done</i> + crying in both senses but for the interest of watching an amiable Bob + Brierley who, with his arm about the waist of the person sitting next to + him, kept looking round at the rest of the world from time to time with + the innocence of one whose left hand didn't know what his right hand was + doing. + </p> + <p> + “But we had hardly crossed the bar when the prince of the powers of the + air began to envy the happiness of these dear young goodies, and if you + had seen the weather for the next four hours you would have agreed that + the devil must have had a hand in it! Up came a wave over the after + quarter and down went the passengers below decks, staggering and screaming + like brewery rats, and then on we came like the Israelites out of Egypt on + eagles' wings! Having lost my own sea legs a little I thought it prudent + to go down too, with my doggie tucked under my arm, and finding a berth in + the ladies' cabin, I fell asleep and didn't awake until we were in the + cross-current just off the island, when, amid moans and groans and other + noises, I heard the tearful voice of a sick passenger asking, 'Is there + any hope, stewardess?' + </p> + <p> + “The train got to Peel as the sun was setting behind the grim old castle + walls, and when I saw the dear little town again I dropped half a tear, + and even felt an insane desire to run out to meet it. Grandfather was at + the station with old 'Caesar' and the pony carriage, and when I had done + kissing him and he had done panting and puffing and talking nonsense, as + if I had been Queen Victoria and the Empress of the French rolled into + one, I could have cried to see how small and feeble he had become since I + went away. We could not get off immediately, for in his simple joy at my + return he was hailing everybody and everybody was hailing him, and the + dear old Pharisee was sounding his trumpet so often in the market-place, + that he might have glory of men, that I thought we should never get up to + Glenfaba that night. When we did so at length the old aunties were waiting + at the gate, and then he broke into exclamations again. 'Hasn't she grown + tall? Look at her! Hasn't she, now?' Whereupon the aunties took up their + parable with, 'Well, well! Aw, well! Aw, well now! Well, ye navar!' So + that by the time I got through I had kissed everybody a dozen times, and + was as red over the eyes as a grouse. + </p> + <p> + “Then we went into the house, and for the first five minutes I couldn't + tell what had come over the old place to make it look so small and mean. + It was just as if the walls of the rooms had been the bellows of a + concertina and somebody had suddenly shut them. But there was the long + clock clucking away on the landing, and there was Sir Thomas Traddles + purring on the hearth-rug, and there were the same plates on the dresser, + and the same map of Africa over the fireplace, with a spot of red ink + where my father died. + </p> + <p> + “The moon was glistening on the sea when I went to bed that night, and + when I got up in the morning the sun was shining on it, and a crow cut + across my window cawing, and I heard grandfather humming to himself on the + path below. And after my long spell in London, and my railway journey of + the day before, it was the same as if I had fallen asleep in a gale on the + high seas and awakened in a quiet harbour somewhere. + </p> + <p> + “So here I am, back at Glenfaba, in my old little room with my old little + bed, and everything exactly as it used to be; and I begin to believe that + when you went into that monastery you only just got the start of me in + being dead. There used to be a few people in this place, but now there + doesn't seem to be a dog left. All the youngsters have 'gone foreign,' and + all the oldsters have gone to—'goodness knows which.' Sometimes we + hear the bleat of sheep on the mountains, and sometimes the scream of + seagulls overhead, and sometimes we hold a convocation of all living rooks + in the elms on the lawn. We take no thought for the morrow, what we shall + eat or what we shall put on, and on Sundays when the church bell rings we + go out, like the Israelites in the wilderness, in clothes which wax not + old after forty years. During the rest of the week we watch the + blue-bottles knocking their stupid heads against the ceiling, and listen + to the grasshoppers whispering in the grass, and fall asleep to the hum of + the bees, and awake to the <i>hee-haw</i> of old Neilus's 'canary.' [* + Donkey] Such is the dead-alive life we live at Glenfaba, and the days of + our years are threescore years and ten, and if.... Ohoy! (A yawn.) + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is basely ungrateful of me to talk like this, for the dear + place itself is lovely enough to disturb one's hope of paradise, and this + very morning is as fresh as the dew on the grass, with the larks singing + above, and the river singing below, and clouds like little curls of foam + hovering over the sea. And as for my three dear old dunces, who love me so + much more than I deserve, I am ashamed in my soul when I overhear them + planning good things for me to eat, and wild excitements for me to revel + in, that I may not be dull or miss the luxuries I am accustomed to. 'Do + you know I'm afraid Glory doesn't care so much for pinjane after all,' I + heard grandfather whispering to Aunt Anna one morning, and half an hour + afterward he was reproving Aunt Rachel for pressing me too hard to serve + at the soup kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “They govern me like a child in pinafores, and of course like a child I + revenge myself by governing all the house. But, oh, dear! oh, dear! gone + are the days when I could live on water-gruel and be happy in a go-cart. + Yes, the change is in me, not in them or the old home, and what's the good + of putting back the clock when the sun is so stubbornly keeping pace? I + might be happy enough at Glenfaba still, if I could only bring back the + days when the garden trees were my gymnasium and I used to rock myself and + sing like a bird on a bough in the wind, or when I led a band of boys to + rob our own orchard—a bold deed, for which Bishop Anna ofttimes + launched at me and! all her suffragans her severest censure—it was + her slipper, I remember. But I can't run barefoot all day long on the wet + sand now, with the salt spray blowing in my face, and a young lady of + one-and-twenty seldom or never rushes out to play dumps and baggy-mug in + public with little girls of ten. + </p> + <p> + “As a result, my former adventures are now limited to careering on the + back of little 'Caesar,' who has grown so ancient and fat that he waddles + like an old duck, and riding him is like working your passage. So I + confine myself to sitting on committees, and being sometimes sat upon, and + rubbing the runes for grandfather, and cleaning the milkpails for Aunt + Anna, and even such holy kill-times as going to church regularly and + watching Neilus when he is passing round the plate after 'Let your light + so shine before men'—light to his practical intellect being clearly + a synonym for silver in the shape of threepenny bits! + </p> + <p> + “But, oh my! oh my! I am a dark character in this place for all that The + dear old goodies have never yet said a syllable about my letter announcing + that I had gone over to the enemy (i. e., Satan and the music hall), and + there is a dead hush in the house as often as the wind of conversation + veers in that direction. This is nothing, though, to the white awe in the + air when visitors call and I am questioned how I earn my living in London. + I hardly know whether to laugh or cry at the long-drawn breath of relief + when I wriggle out of a tight place without telling a lie. But you can't + hide an eel in a sack, and I know the truth will pop out one of these + days. Only yesterday I went district-visiting with Aunt Rachel, and one of + the Balaams of life, who keeps a tavern for fishermen, lured us into his + bar parlour to look at a portrait of 'Gloria' which he had cut out of an + illustrated paper and pinned up on the wall 'because it resembled me so + much!' Oh, dear! oh, dear! I could have found it in my heart to brazen it + out on the spot at this sight of my evil fame; but when I saw poor little + auntie watching me with fearful eyes I talked away like a mill-wheel and + went out thanking God that the rest of the people of Peel were not as + other men are, or even as this publican. + </p> + <p> + “I have been getting newspapers myself, though, sent by my friend Rosa; + and as long as the mis-reporters concerned themselves with my own doings + and failures to do, and lied as tenderly as an epitaph about my + disappearance from London, I cut them up and burned them. But when they + forgot me, and began to treat of other people's triumphs, I made Neilus my + waste-paper basket, on the understanding that the papers were to go to the + fishermen just home from Kinsale. Then from time to time he told me they + were 'goin' round, miss, goin' round,' and gave me other assurances of + 'the greatest circulation in the world,' which was true enough certainly, + though the old thief omitted to say it was at the paper-mill, where they + were being turned into pulp. + </p> + <p> + “But, heigho! I don't need newspapers to remind me of London. Like St. + Paul, I have a devil that beats me with fists, and as often as a clear day + comes, and one can see things a long way off, he makes me climb to the top + of Slieu Whallin [* A mountain in Man.] that I may sit on the beacon by + the hour and strain my eyes for a glimpse of England, feeling like Lot's + wife when she looked back on her old home, and then coming down with a + heavy heart and a taste of tears in my mouth as if I had been turned into + a pillar of salt. Dear old London! But I suppose it is going on its way + just as it used to do, with its tides of traffic and its crowds and + carriages, and wandering merchants and hawkers crying their wares, and + everything the same as ever, just the same, although Glory isn't there!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “10.30 P. M.—I had to interrupt the writing of my letter this + morning owing to an alarm of illness seizing grandfather. He had been + taken with a sudden faintness. Of course we sent for the doctor, but + before he arrived the faintness had passed, so he looked wise at us, like + a prize riddle which had to be guessed before his next visit, left us his + autograph (a wonderful hieroglyphic), and went away. Since then + grandfather has been in the hands of a less taciturn practitioner, whom he + calls the 'flower of Glenfaba' (that's me), and after talking nonsense to + him all day and playing chess with him all the evening I have to put him + to bed laughing, and come back to my own room to finish my letter with an + easier mind. For the last half-hour the aurora has been pulsing in the + northern sky, and I have been thinking that the glorious phantasmagoria + must be the sign of a gale in heaven, just as sleet and mist and black + wind are the signs of a gale on earth. But it has tripped off into + nothingness and only the dark night is left, through which the dogs at + Knockaloe are keeping up their private correspondence with the dogs at + Ballamoar by the medium of their nightly howls. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! Only 10.30! And to know that while we are going to bed by + country hours, with nearly everything still and dead around us, London is + just beginning to bestir itself! When I lie down and try to sleep I shall + see the wide squares, with their statues of somebody inside, and the blaze + of lights over the doors of the theatres, and all the tingling life of the + great and wonderful city. Ugh! It makes one feel like one's own ghost + wandering through the upper rooms and across the dark landings, and + hearing the strains of the music and the sounds of the dancing from the + ballroom below stairs! + </p> + <p> + “But, my goodness! (I can still swear on that, you see, and not be + forsworn!) 'What's the odds if you're jolly?—and I allus is!' How's + your dog? Mine would write you a letter, only her heart is moribund, and + if things go on as they are going she must set about making her will. In + fact, she is now lying at the foot of my bed thinking matters out, and + bids me tell you that after various attempts to escape Home Rule, not + being (like her mistress) one of those natures made perfect through + suffering, she is only 'kept alive by the force of her own volition,' in + this house that is full of old maids and has nothing better in it than one + old cat, and he isn't worth hunting, being destitute of a tail. Naturally + she is doing her best (like somebody else) to keep herself unspotted from + that world which is a source of so much temptation, but she's bound to + confess that a little 'divilment' now and then would help her to take a + more holy and religious view of life. + </p> + <p> + “I 'wish you happy' in your new enterprise; but if you are going in for + being the champion of woman in this world—of her wrongs—I warn + you not to be too pointed in your moral, for there is a story here of a + handsome young curate who was so particular in the pulpit with 'Lovest + thou me' that a lady followed him into the vestry and admitted that she + did. Soberly, it is a great and noble effort, and I've half a mind to love + you for it. If men want women to be good they <i>will</i> be good, for + women dance to the tune that men like best, and always have done so since + the days of Adam—not forgetting that gentleman's temptation, nor yet + his excuse about 'the woman <i>Thou gavest</i> me,' which shows he wasn't + much of a husband anyway, though certainly he hadn't much choice of a + wife. + </p> + <p> + “My love to dear old London! Sometimes I have half a mind to skip off and + do my wooing myself. Perhaps I should do so, only that Rosa writes that + she would like to come and spend her summer holiday in Peel. Haven't I + told you about Rosa? She's the lady journalist that Mr. Drake introduced + me to. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “But let's to bed, + Said Sleepyhead. +</pre> + <p> + “Glory. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—IMPORTANT. Ever since I left London I have been tormented with + the recollection of poor Polly's baby. She put him out to nurse with the + Mrs. Jupe you heard of, and that person put him out to somebody else. + While the mother lived I had no business to interfere, but I can't help + thinking of the motherless mite now and wondering what has become of him. + I suppose that like Jeshurun he waxeth fat and kicketh by this time, yet + it would be the act of a man and a clergyman if anybody would take up my + neglected duty and make it his business to see that there is somebody to + love the poor child. Mrs. Jupe's address is 5a, The Little Turnstile, + going from Holborn into Lincoln's Inn Fields.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. + </h2> + <p> + It was on a Saturday morning that John Storm received Glory's letter, and + on the evening of the same day he set out in search of Mrs. Jupe's. The + place was not easy to find, and when he discovered it at length he felt a + pang at the thought that Glory herself had lived in this dingy burrowing. + As he was going up to the door of the little tobacco shop a raucous voice + within was saying, “That's what's doo on the byeby, and till you can py up + you needn't be a-kemmin' 'ere no more.” At the next moment a young woman + crossed him on the threshold. She was a little slender thing, looking like + a flower that has been broken by the wet. He recognised her as the girl + who had nursed the baby in Cook Lane on the day of his first visit to + Soho. She was crying, and to hide her swollen eyes she dropped her head at + passing, and he saw her faded ribbons and soiled straw hat. + </p> + <p> + A woman of middle age behind the counter was curtsying to his clerical + attire, and a little girl at the door of an inner room was looking at him + out of the corner of her eyes, with head aslant. + </p> + <p> + “Father Storm, I think, sir. Come in and set you down, sir.—Mind the + shop, Booboo.—My 'usband 'as told me about ye, sir. 'You'll know 'im + at onct, Lidjer,' 'e sez, siz 'e.—No, 'e ain't 'ome from the club + yet, but 'e might be a-kemmin' in any time now, sir.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm had seated himself in the little dark parlour, and was looking + round and thinking of Glory. “No matter; my business is with you, Mrs. + Jupe,” he answered, and at that the twinkling eyes and fat cheeks, which + had been doing their best to smile, took on a look of fear. + </p> + <p> + “Wot's the metter?” she asked, and she closed the door to the shop. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, I trust, my good woman,” and then he explained his errand. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jupe listened attentively and seemed to be asking herself who had + sent him. + </p> + <p> + “The poor young mother is dead now, as you may know, and——” + </p> + <p> + “But the father ain't,” said the woman sharply, “and, begging your + parding, sir, if 'e wants ter know where the byeby is 'e can come 'isself + and not send sembody else!” + </p> + <p> + “If the child is well, my good woman, and well cared for——” + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> well keered for, and it's gorn to a pusson I can trust.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what have you got to conceal? Tell me where it is, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Not me! If it's 'is child, and 'e wants it, let 'im py for it, and + interest ep ter dite. Them swells is too fond of gettin' parsons to pull + their chestnuts out o' the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “If you suppose I am here in the interests of the father, you are + mistaken, I do assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ow, you do, do yer?” + </p> + <p> + Matters had reached this pass when the door opened and Mr. Jupe came in. + Off went his hat with a respectful salutation, but seeing the cloud on his + wife's face, he abridged his greeting. The woman's apron was at her eyes + in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Wot's gowin' on?” he asked. John Storm tried to explain, but the woman + contented herself with crying. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's like this, don'cher see, Father. My missis is that fond of + childring, and it brikes 'er 'eart——” + </p> + <p> + Was the man a fool or a hypocrite? + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Jupe,” said John, rising, “I'm afraid your wife has been carrying on + an improper and illegal business.” + </p> + <p> + “Now stou thet, sir,” said the man, wagging his head. “I respects the + Reverend Jawn Storm a good deal, but I respects Mrs. Lidjer Jupe a good + deal more, and when it comes to improper and illegal bizniss——” + </p> + <p> + “Down't mind 'im, 'Enery,” said the wife, now weeping audibly. + </p> + <p> + “And down't you tyke on so, Lidjer,” said the husband, and they looked as + if they were about to embrace. + </p> + <p> + John Storm could stand no more. Going down the court he was thinking with + a pang of Glory—that she had lived months in the atmosphere of that + impostor—when somebody touched his arm in the darkness. It was the + girl. She was still crying. + </p> + <p> + “I reckerlec' seeing you in Crook Lane, sir, the day we christened my + byeby, and I waited, thinking p'raps you could help me.” + </p> + <p> + “Come this way,” said John, and walking by his side along the blank wall + of Lincoln's Inn Fields, the girl told her story. She lived in one room of + the clergy-house at the back of his church. Having to earn her living, she + had answered an advertisement in a Sunday paper, and Mrs. Jupe had taken + her baby to nurse. It was true she had given up all claim to the child, + but she could not help going to see it—the little one's ways were so + engaging. Then she found that Mrs. Jupe had let it out to somebody else. + Only for her “friend” she might never have heard of it again. He had found + it by accident at a house in Westminster. It was a fearful place, where + men went for gambling. The man who kept it had just been released from + eighteen months' imprisonment, and the wife had taken to nursing while the + husband was in prison. She was a frightful woman, and he was a shocking + man, and “they knocked the children about cruel.” The neighbours heard + screams and slaps and moans, and they were always crying “Shame!” She had + wanted to take her own baby away, but the woman would not give it up + because there were three weeks' board owing, and she could not pay. + </p> + <p> + “Could you take me to this house, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then come round to the church after service to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + The girl's tearful face glistened like April sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “And will you help me to get my little girl? Oh, how good you are! + Everybody is saying what a Father it is that's come to——” She + stopped, then said quite soberly: “I'll get somebody to lend me a shawl to + bring 'er 'ome in. People say they pawn everything, and perhaps the + beautiful white perlice I bought for 'er ... Oh, I'll never let 'er out of + my sight again, never!” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name, my girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Agatha Jones,” the girl answered. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly eleven o'clock on Sunday night before they were ready to + start on their errand. Meantime Aggie had done two turns at the foreign + clubs, and John Storm had led a procession through Crown Street and been + hit by a missile thrown by a “Skeleton,” whom he declined to give in + charge. At the corner of the alley he stopped to ask Mrs. Pincher to wait + up for him, and the girl's large eyes caught sight of the patch of plaster + above his temple. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure you want to go, sir?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “There's no time to lose,” he answered. The bloodhound was with him; he + had sent home for it since the attempted riot. + </p> + <p> + As they walked toward Westminster she told him where she had been, and + what money she had earned. It was ten shillings, and that would buy so + many things for baby. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow I'll get a cot for her—one of those wicker ones; iron is + so expensive. She'll want a pair o' socks too, and by-and-bye she'll 'ave + to be shortened.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm was thinking of Glory. He seemed to be retreading the steps of + her life in London. The dog kept close at his heels. + </p> + <p> + “She'll 'a bin a month away now, a month to-morrow. I wonder if she's + grow'd much—I wonder! It's wrong of people letting their childring + go away from them. I'll never go out at nights again—not if I 'ave + to tyke in sewin' for the slop shops. See this?” laughing nervously and + showing a shawl that hung on her arm. “It's to bring 'er 'ome in—the + nights is so chill for a byeby.” + </p> + <p> + John's heart was heavy at sight of these little preparations, but the + young mother's face was radiant. + </p> + <p> + As they went by the Abbey, under its forest of scaffolding, and, walking + toward Millbank, dipped into the slums, that lie in the shadow of the dark + prison, they passed soldiers from the neighbouring barracks going + arm-in-arm with girls, and this made Aggie talk of her “friend,” and cry a + little, saying it was a week since she had seen him, and she was afraid he + must have 'listed. She knew he was rude to people sometimes, and she asked + pardon for him, but he wasn't such a bad boy, after all, and he never + knocked you about except when he was drinking. + </p> + <p> + The house they were going to was in Angel Court, and having its door only + to the front, it was partly sheltered from observation. A group of women + with their aprons over their heads stood talking in whispers at the + corner. One of them recognised Aggie and asked if she had got her child + yet, whereupon John stopped and made some inquiries. The goings-on at the + house were scandalous. The men who went to it were the lowest of the low, + and there was scarcely one of them who hadn't “done time.” The man's name + was Sharkey, and his wife was as bad as he was. She insured the children + at seven pounds apiece, and “Lawd love ye, sir, at that price the poor + things is worth more dead nor alive!” + </p> + <p> + Aggie's face was becoming white, and she was touching John Storm's elbow + as if pleading with him to come away, but he asked further questions. Yes, + there were several children. A twelve-months' baby, a boy, was fretful + with his teething, and on Sunday nights, when the woman was wanted + downstairs, she just put the poor darling to bed and locked the room. If + you lived next door, you could hear his crying through the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha,” said John, as they stepped up to the door, “get us both into + this house as best you can, then leave the rest to me.—Don, lie + close!” + </p> + <p> + Aggie tapped at the door. A little slide in it was run back and a voice + said, “Who's there?” + </p> + <p> + “Aggie,” the girl answered. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that with you?” + </p> + <p> + “A friend of Charlie's,” and then the door was opened. + </p> + <p> + John crossed the threshold first, the dog followed him, the girl entered + last. When the door had closed behind them, the doorkeeper, a young man + holding a candle in his hand, was staring at John with his whole face + open. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Not a word!—Don, watch that man!” + </p> + <p> + The young man looked at the dog and turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mrs. Sharkey?” + </p> + <p> + “Downstairs, sir.” + </p> + <p> + There were sounds of men's voices from below, and from above there came + the convulsive sobs of a child, deadened as by a door between. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your candle.” + </p> + <p> + The man gave it. + </p> + <p> + “Don't speak or stir, or else——” + </p> + <p> + John glanced at the dog, and the man trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Come upstairs, child,” and the girl followed him to the upper floor. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the room in which the baby was crying they tried the door. It + was locked. John attempted to force it, but it would not yield. The + child's sobs were dying down to a sleepy moan. + </p> + <p> + Another room stood open and they went in. It was the living-room. A kettle + on the fire was singing and puffing steam. There was no sign of a key + anywhere. Only a table, some chairs, a disordered sofa, certain sporting + newspapers lying about, and a few pictures on the walls. Some of the + pictures were of race-horses, but all the rest were memorial cards, and + one bore the text, “He shall gather them in his arms.” Aggie was + shuddering as with cold, being chilled by some unknown fear. + </p> + <p> + “We must go down to the cellar—there's no help for it,” said John. + </p> + <p> + The man in the hall had not spoken or stirred. He was still gazing in + terror on the bloodshot eyes looking out of the darkness. John gave the + candle to the girl and began to go noiselessly downstairs. There was not a + movement in the house now. Big Ben was striking. It was twelve o'clock. + </p> + <p> + At the next moment John Storm was midway down, and had full view of the + den. It was a washing cellar with a coal vault going out of it under the + street. Some fifteen or twenty men, chiefly foreigners, were gathered + about a large table covered with green baize, on which a small lamp was + burning. A few of the men were seated on chairs ranged about, the others + were standing at the back in rows two deep. They were gambling. The game + was faro. Rows of lucifer matches were laid on the table, half-crowns were + staked on them, and cards were cut and dealt. Except the banker, a + middle-aged man with the wild eye of the hard spirit-drinker, everybody + had his face turned away from the cellar stairs. + </p> + <p> + They did not smoke or drink, and they only spoke to each other when the + stakes were being received or paid. Then they quarrelled and swore in + English. After that there was a chilling and hideous silence, as if + something awful were about to occur. The lamp cast a strong light on the + table, but the rest of the room was darkened by patches of shadow. + </p> + <p> + The coal vault had been turned into a drinking-bar, and behind the counter + there was a well-stocked stillage. In the depths of its shade a woman sat + knitting. She had a gross red and white face, and in the arch above her + was the iron grid in the pavement. Somebody on the street walked over it, + causing a hollow sound as of soil falling on a coffin. + </p> + <p> + John Storm was no coward, but a certain tremor passed over him on finding + himself in this subterranean lurking-place of men who were as beasts. He + stood a full minute unseen. Then he heard the woman say in a low hiss, + “Cat's mee-e-et!” and he knew he had been observed. The men turned and + looked at him, not suddenly, or all at once, but furtively, cautiously, + slowly. The banker crouched at the table with an astonished face and tried + to smuggle the cards out of sight. + </p> + <p> + John stood calmly, his whole figure displaying courage and confidence. The + group of men broke up. “He's got the 'coppers,'” said one. Nobody else + spoke, and they began to melt away. They disappeared through a door at the + back which led into a yard, for, like rats, the human vermin always have a + second way out of their holes. + </p> + <p> + In half a minute the cellar was nearly empty. Only the banker and the + woman and one young man remained. The young man was Charlie. + </p> + <p> + “What cheer, myte?” he said with an air of unconcern. “Is it trecks ye + want, sir? Here ye are then,” and he threw a pack of cards at John's feet. + </p> + <p> + “It's that gel o' yawn that's done this,” said the woman. + </p> + <p> + “So it's a got-up thing, is it?” said Charlie, and stepping to the + counter, he took up a drinking-glass, broke it at the rim; and holding its + jagged edges outward, turned to use it as a weapon. + </p> + <p> + John Storm had not yet spoken, but a magnetic instinct warned him. He + whistled, and the dog bounded down. The young man threw his broken glass + on the floor and cried to the keeper of the house: “Don't stir, you! First + you know, the beast will be at yer throat!” + </p> + <p> + Hearing Charlie's voice, Aggie was creeping down the stairs. “Charlie!” + she cried. Charlie threw open his coat, stuck his fingers in the armholes + of his waistcoat, said in a voice of hatred, passion, and rage, “Go and + pawn yourself!” and then swaggered out at the back door. The keeper made + show of following, but John Storm called on him to stop. The man looked at + the dog and obeyed. “Wot d'ye want o' me?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I want this girl's baby. That's the first thing I want. I'll tell you the + rest afterward.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's it, is it?” The man's grimace was frightful. + </p> + <p> + “It's gone, sir. We've lost it,” said the woman, with a hideous + expression. + </p> + <p> + “That story will not pass with me, my good woman. Go upstairs and unlock + the door! You too, my man, go on!” + </p> + <p> + A minute later they were in a bedroom above. Three neglected children lay + asleep on bundles of rags. One of twelve months' old was in a wicker + cradle, one of three years was in a wooden cot, and a younger child was in + a bed. Aggie had come up behind, and stood by the door trembling and + weeping. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my girl, find your baby,” said John, and the young mother hurried + with eager eyes from the cradle to the cot and from the cot to the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, here it is,” she cried. “No—oh no, no!” and she began to wring + her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Told yer so,” said the woman, and with a wicked grin she pointed to a + memorial card which hung on the wall. + </p> + <p> + Aggie's child was dead and buried. Diarrhoea! The doctor at the dispensary + had given a certificate of death, and Charlie had shared the insurance + money. “Wish to Christ it was ended!” he had said. He had been drunk ever + since. + </p> + <p> + The poor girl was stunned. She was no longer crying. “Oh, oh, oh! What + shall I do?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Who's child is this?” said John, standing over the wicker cradle. The + little sufferer from inflamed gums had sobbed itself to sleep. + </p> + <p> + “A real laidy's,” said the woman. “Mrs. Jupe told us to tyke great kear of + it. The father is Lord something.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor girl,” said John, turning to Aggie, “could you carry this child + home for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh, oh!” said the girl, but she wrapped the shawl about the child and + lifted it up sleeping. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you down't!” said the man, putting himself on guard before the door. + “That child is worth 'undrids of pounds to me, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Stand back, you brute!” said John, and with the girl and her burden he + passed out of the house. + </p> + <p> + The front door stood open and the neighbourhood had been raised. Trollopy + women in their under-petticoats and with their hair hanging about their + necks were gathered at the end of the court. Aggie was crying again, and + John pushed through the crowd without speaking. + </p> + <p> + They went back by Broad Sanctuary, where a solitary policeman was pacing + to and fro on the echoing pavement. Big Ben was chiming the half-hour + after midnight. The child coughed like a sheep constantly, and Aggie kept + saying, “Oh, oh, oh!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pincher, in her widow's cap and white apron, was waiting up for them, + and John committed the child to her keeping. Then he said to Aggie, who + was turning away, “My poor child, you have suffered deeply, but if you + will leave this man I will help you to begin life again, and if you want + money I will find it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he <i>is</i> a Father and no mistake!” said Mrs. Pincher; but the + girl only answered in a hopeless voice, “I don't want no money, and I + don't want to begin life again.” + </p> + <p> + As she crossed the court to her room in the tenement house they heard her + “Oh, oh, oh!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Before going to bed that night John Storm wrote to Glory: + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah! Have got poor Polly's baby, so you may set your heart at ease + about it. All the days of my life I have been thought to be a dreamer, but + it is surprising what a man can do when he sets to work for somebody else! + Your former landlady turns out to be the wife of my 'organ man,' and it + was pitiful to see the dear old simpleton's devotion to his bogus little + baggage. I have lost him, of course, but that was unavoidable. + </p> + <p> + “It was by help of another victim that I traced the child at last. She is + a ballet girl of some sort, and it was as much as I could stand to see the + poor young thing carrying Polly's baby, her own being dead and buried + without a word said to her. Short of the grace of God she will go to the + bad now. Oh, when will the world see that in dealing with the starved + hearts of these poor fallen creatures God Almighty knows best how to do + his own business? Keep the child with the mother, foster the maternal + instinct, and you build up the best womanhood. Drag them apart, and the + child goes to the dogs and the mother to the devil. + </p> + <p> + “But Polly's baby is safely lodged with Mrs. Pincher, a dear old + grandmotherly soul who will love it like her own, and all the way home I + have been making up my mind to start baby-farming myself on fresh lines. + He who wrongs the child commits a crime against the State. However low a + woman has fallen, she is a subject of the Crown, and if she is a mother + she is the Crown's creditor. These are my first principles, the + application will come anon. Meantime you have given me a new career, a + glorious mission! Thank God and Glory Quayle for it for ever and ever! + Then—who knows?—perhaps you will come back and take it up + yourself some day. When I think of the precious time I spent, in that + monastery ... but no, only for that I should not be here. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, life is wonderful! But I feel afraid that I shall wake up—perhaps + in the streets somewhere—and find I have been dreaming. Deeply + grieved to hear of the grandfather's attack. Trust it has passed. But if + not, certain I am that all is well with him and that he is staid only on + God. + </p> + <p> + “Hope you are well and plodding through this wilderness in comfort, + avoiding the thorns as well as you can. Glenfaba may be dull, but you do + well to keep out of the whirlpool of London for the present. Yours is a + snug spot, and when storms are blowing even the sea-gulls shelter about + your house, I remember ... But why Rosa? Is Peel the only place for a + summer holiday?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. + </h2> + <p> + “Glenfaba. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear John Storm, is it coals of fire you are heaping on my head, + or fire of brimstone? Your last letter with its torrents of enthusiasm + came sweeping down on me like a flood. What work you are in the midst of! + What a life! What a purpose! While I—I am lying here like an old + slipper thrown up oil the sea-beach. Oh, the pity oft, the pity oft! It + must be glorious to be in the rush and swirl of all this splendid effort, + whatever comes of it! One's soul is thrilled, one's heart expands! As for + me, the garden of my mind is withering, and I am consuming the seed I + ought to sow. + </p> + <p> + “Rosa has come. She has been here a month nearly, and is just charming, + say what you will. Her thoughts have the dash of the great world, and I + love to hear her talk. True, she troubles me sometimes, but that's only my + envy and malice and all uncharitableness. When she tells of Betty-this and + Ellen-that, and their wonderful successes and triumphs, I'm the meanest + sinner that crawls. + </p> + <p> + “It's funny to see how the old folk bear themselves toward her. Aunt + Rachel regards her as a sort of an artist, and is clearly afraid that she + will break out into madness in spots somewhere. Aunt Anna disapproves of + her hair, which is brushed up like a man's, and of her skirt, which 'would + be no worse if it were less like a pair of breeches,' for she has brought + her 'bike.' She talks on dangerous subjects also, and nobody did such + things in auntie's young days. Then she addresses the old girlies as I do, + and calls grandfather 'G-rand-dad,' and like the witch of Endor generally, + is possessed of a familiar spirit. Of course I give her various warning + looks from time to time lest the fat should be in the fire, but she's a + woman, bless her! and it's as true as ever it was that a woman can keep + the secret she doesn't know. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the ideal of womanhood has changed since the old aunties were young; + but when I listen to Rosa and then look over at Rachel with her black + ringlets, and at Anna with her old-fashioned 'front,' I shudder and ask + myself, 'Why do I struggle?' What is the reward if one gives up the + fascination of life and the world? There is no reward. Nothing but + solitary old-maidism, unless two of you happen to be sisters, for who else + will join her shame to yours? Dreams, dreams, only dreams of the dearest + thing that ever comes into a woman's arms—and then you awake and + there is no one there. A dame's school, when the old father is gone, but + no children of your own to love you, nobody to think of you, scraping a + little here, pinching a little there, growing older and smaller year by + year, looking yellow and craned like an apple that has been kept on the + top shelf too long, and then—the end! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I'm trying so hard, so very hard, to be 'true to the higher self + in me,' because somebody says I must. What do you think I did last week? + In my character of Lady Bountiful I gave an old folks' supper in the soup + kitchen, understood to be in honour of my return. Roast beef and plum + duff, not to speak of pipes and 'baccy, and forty old people of both sexes + sitting down to 'the do.' After supper there was a concert, when Chaise + (the fat old thief!) overflowed the 'elber' chair, and alluded to me as + 'our beautiful donor,' and lured me into singing Mylecharaine, and leading + the company, when we closed with the doxology. + </p> + <p> + “But 'it was not myself at all, Molly dear, 'twas my shadow on the wall,' + and in any case man can't live by soup kitchens alone—nor woman + either. And knowing what a poor, weak, vain woman I am at the best, I ask + myself sometimes would it not be a thousand times better if I yielded to + my true nature instead of struggling to realize a bloodless ideal that is + not me in the least, but only my picture in the heart of some one who + thinks me so much better than I am? + </p> + <p> + “Not that anybody ever sees what a hypocrite I can be, though I came near + to letting the cat out of the bag as lately as last night. You must know + that when I turned my back on London at the command of John Knox the + second, I brought all my beautiful dresses along with me, except such of + them as were left at the theatre. Yet I daren't lay them out in the + drawers, so I kept them under lock and key in my boxes. There they lurked + like evil spirits in ambush, and as often as their perfume escaped into + the room my eyes watered for another sight of them! But in spite of all + temptation I resisted, I conquered, I triumphed—until last night + when Rosa talked of Juliet, what a glorious creature she was, and how + there was nobody on the stage who could 'look' her and 'play' her too! + </p> + <p> + “What do you think I did? Shall I tell you? Yes, I will. I crept upstairs + to my quiet little room, tugged the box from its hiding-place under the + bed, drew out my dresses—my lovely, lovely brocades—and put + them on! Then I spoke the potion speech, beginning in a whisper, but + getting louder as I went on, and always looking at myself in the glass. I + had blown out the candle, and there was no light in the room but the moon + that was shining on my face, but I was glowing, my very soul was afire, + and when I came to the end I drew myself up with eyes closed and head + thrown back and heart that paused a beat or two, and said, '<i>I</i>—<i>I</i> + am Juliet, for I am a great actress!' + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh, oh! I could scream with laughter to think of what happened next! + Suddenly I became aware of somebody knocking at my door (I had locked it) + and of a thin voice outside saying fretfully: 'Glory, whatever is it? + Aren't you well, Glory?' It was the little auntie; and thinking what a + shock she would have if I opened the door and she came upon this grand + Italian lady instead of poor little me, I had to laugh and to make excuses + while I smuggled off my gorgeous things and got back into my plain ones! + </p> + <p> + “It was a narrow squeak; but I had a narrower one some days before. Poor + grandfather! He regards Rosa as belonging to a superior race, and loves to + ask her what she thinks of Glory. He has grown quite simple lately, and as + soon as he thinks my back is turned he is always saying, 'And what is your + opinion of my granddaughter, Miss Macquarrie?' To which she answers, + 'Glory is going to make your name immortal, Mr. Quayle.' Then his eyes + sparkle and he says, 'Do you think so?—do you really think so?' + Whereupon she talks further balderdash, and the dear old darling smiles a + triumphant smile! + </p> + <p> + “But I always notice that not long afterward his eyes look wet and his + head hangs low, and he is saying to the aunties, with a crack in his + voice: 'She'll go away again. You'll see she will. Her beauty and her + talents belong to the world.' And then I burst in on them and scold them, + and tell them not to talk nonsense. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless he is beginning to regard Rosa with suspicion, as if she + were a witch luring me away, and one evening last week we had to steal + into the garden to talk that we might escape from his watchful eyes. The + sun had set—there was the red glow behind the castle across the sky + and the sea, and we were walking on the low path by the river under the + fuchsia hedge that hangs over from the lawn, you know. Rosa was talking + with her impetuous dash of the great career open to any one who could win + the world in London, how there were people enough to help her on, rich men + to find her opportunities, and even to take theatres for her if need be. + And I was hesitating and halting and stammering: 'Yes, yes, if it were the + <i>regular</i> stage ... who knows? ... perhaps it might not be opened to + the same objections, ...' when suddenly the leaves of the fuchsia rustled + as with a gust of wind, and we heard footsteps on the path above. + </p> + <p> + “It was the grandfather, who had come out on Rachel's arm and overheard + what I had said! 'It's Glory!' he faltered, and then I heard him take his + snuff and blow his nose as if to cover his confusion, thinking I was + deceiving them and carrying on a secret intercourse. I hardly know what + happened next, except that for the five minutes following 'the great + actress' had to talk with the tongues of men and angels (Beelzebub's) in + order to throw dust in the dear old eyes and drive away their doubts. It + was a magnificent performance, 'you go bail.' I'll never do the like of it + again, though I had only one old man and one old maid and one young woman + for audience. The house 'rose' at me too, and the poor old grandfather was + appeased. But when we were back indoors I overheard him saying: 'After all + there's no help for it. She's dull with us—what wonder! We can't + cage our linnet, Rachel, and perhaps we shouldn't try. A song-bird came to + cheer us, but it will fly away. We are only old folks, dear—it's no + use crying.' And on going to his room that night he closed his door and + said his prayers in a whisper, that I might not hear him when he sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't left his bed since. I fear he never will More than once I have + been on the point of telling him there is no reason to think the deluge + would come if I <i>did</i>, go back to London; but I will never leave him + now. Yet I wish Aunt Rachel wouldn't talk so much of the days when I went + away before. It seems that every night, on his way to his own room, he + used to step into my empty one and come out with his eyes dim and his lips + moving. I am not naturally hard-hearted, but I can't love grandfather like + that. Oh, the cruelty of life! ... I know it ought to be the other way + about; ... but I can't help it. + </p> + <p> + “All the same I could cry to think how short life is, and how little of it + I can spare. 'Cling fast to me and hold me,' my heart is always saying, + but meantime London is calling to me, calling to me, like the sea, and I + feel as if I were a wandering mermaid and she were my ocean home. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Later.—Poor, poor grandfather! I was interrupted in the writing of + my letter this morning by another of those sudden alarms. He had fainted + again, and it is extraordinary how helpless the aunties are in a case of + illness. Grandfather knows it too; and after I had done all I could to + bring him round, he opened his eyes and whispered that he had something to + say to me alone. At that the poor old things left the room with tears of + woe and a look of understanding. Then fetching a difficult breath he said, + '<i>You</i> are not afraid, Glory, are you?' and I answered him 'No,' + though my heart was trembling. And then a feeble smile struggled through + the wan features of his drawn face, and he told me his attack was only + another summons. 'I'll soon die for good,' he said, 'and you must be + strong and brave, my child, for death is the common lot, and then what is + there to fear?' I didn't try to contradict him—what was the good of + doing that? And after he had spoken of the coming time he talked quietly + of his past life, how he had weathered the storm for seventy odd years, + and his Almighty Father was bringing him into harbour at last. 'I can't + pray for life any longer, Glory. Many a time I did so in the old days when + I had to bring up my little granddaughter, but my task is over now, and + after the day is done where is the tired labourer who does not lie down to + his rest with a will?' + </p> + <p> + “The doctor has been and gone. There is no ailment, and nothing to be done + or hoped. It is only a general failure and a sinking earthward of the poor + worn-out body as the soul rises to the heaven that is waiting to receive + it. What a pagan I feel beside him! And how glad I am that I didn't talk + of leaving him again when he was on the eve of his far longer journey! I + have sent the aunties to bed, but Rosa has made me promise to awaken her + at four, that she may take her turn at his bedside. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Next Morning.—Rosa relieved me during the night, and I came to my + room and lay down in the dullness of the dawn. But now I am sorry that I + allowed her to do so, for I did not sleep, and grandfather appears to have + been troubled with dreams. I fancied he shuddered a little as I left them + together, and more than once through the wall I heard him cry, 'Bring him + back!' in the toneless voice of one who is labouring under the terrors of + a nightmare. But each time I heard Rosa comforting him, so I lay down + again without going in. + </p> + <p> + “Being stronger this morning, he has been propped up in bed writing a + letter. When he called for the pens and paper I asked if I couldn't write + it for him, but the old darling made a great mystery of the matter, and + looked artful, and asked if it was usual to fight your enemy with his own + powder and shot. Of course I humoured him and pretended to be mighty + curious, though I think I know who the letter was written to, all the same + that he kept the address side of the envelope hidden even when the front + of it was being sealed. He sealed it with sealing-wax, and I held the + candle while he did so, with his poor trembling fingers in danger from the + light, and then I stamped it with my mother's pearl ring, and he smuggled + it under the pillow. + </p> + <p> + “Since breakfast he has shown an increased inclination to doze, but there + have been visits from the wardens and from neighbouring parsons, for a <i>locum + tenens</i> has had to be appointed. Of course, they have all inquired + where his pain is, and on being told that he has none, they have gone + downstairs cackling and clucking and crowing in various versions of + 'Praise God for that!' I hate people who are always singing the doxology. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Noon.—Condition unchanged, except that in the intervals of + drowsiness his mind has wandered a little. He appears to live in the past. + Looking at me with conscious eyes, he calls me 'Lancelot'—my + father's name. It has been so all the morning. One would think he was + walking in a twilight land where he mistakes people's faces and the dead + are as much alive as the living. + </p> + <p> + “They all think I am brave, oh, so brave! because I do not cry now, as + everybody else does—even Aunt Anna behind her apron—although + my tears can flow so easily, and at other times I keep them constantly on + tap. But I am really afraid, and down at the bottom of my heart I am + terrified. It is just as if <i>something</i> were coming into the house + slowly, irresistibly, awfully, and casting its shadow on the floor + already. + </p> + <p> + “I have found out the cause of his outcries in the night. Aunt Rachel says + he was dreaming of my father's departure for Africa. That was twenty-two + years ago, but it seems that the memory of the last day has troubled him a + good deal lately. 'Don't you remember it?' he has been saying. 'There were + no railways in the island then, and we stood at the gate to watch the + coach that was taking him away. He sat on the top and waved his red + handkerchief. And when he had gone, and it was no use watching, we turned + back to the house—you and Anna and poor, pretty young Elise. He + never came back, and when Glory goes again she'll never come back either.' + </p> + <p> + “In the intervals of his semi-consciousness, when he mistakes me for my + father, my wonderful bravery often fails me, and I find excuses for going + out of the room. Then I creep noiselessly through the house and listen at + half-open doors. Just now I heard him talking quite rationally to Rachel, + but in a voice that seemed to speak inwardly, not outwardly, as before. + 'She can't help it, poor child!' he said. 'Some day she'll know what it + is, but not yet, not until she has a child of her own. The race looks + forward, not backward. God knew when he created us that the world couldn't + go on without that bit of cruelty, and who am I that I should complain?' + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't bear it any longer, and with a pain at my heart I ran in and + cried, 'I'll never leave you, grandfather.' But he only smiled and said, + 'I'll not be keeping you long, Glory, I'll not be keeping you long,' and + then I could have died for shame. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Evening.—All afternoon he has been like a child, and everything + present to his consciousness seems to have been reversed. The shadow of + eternity appears to have wiped out time. When I have raised him up in bed + he has delighted to think he was a little boy in his young mother's arms. + Oh, sweet dream! The old man with his furrowed forehead and beautiful + white head and all the heavy years rolled back! More than once he has + asked me if he may play till bedtime, and I have stroked his wrinkled + hands and told him 'Yes,' for I pretend to be his mother, who died, when + she was old. + </p> + <p> + “But the 'part' is almost too much for me, and, lest I should break down + under the strain of it, I am going out of his room constantly. I have just + been into his study. It is as full as ever of his squeezes and rubbings + and plaster casts and dusty old runes. He has spent all his life away back + in the tenth century, and now he is going farther, farther.... + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm aweary, aweary! If anything happens to grandfather I shall soon + leave this place; there will be nothing to hold me here any longer, and + besides I could not bear the sight of these evidences of his gentle + presence, so simple, so touching. But what a vain thing London is with all + its vast ado—how little, how pitiful! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Later.—It is all over! The curtain has fallen, and I am not crying. + If I did cry it would not be from grief, but because the end was so + beautiful, so glorious! It was at sunset, and the streamers of the sun + were coming horizontally into the room. He awoke from a long drowsiness, + and a serenity almost angelic overspread his face. I could see that he was + himself once again. Death had led him back through the long years since he + was a child, and he knew he was an old man and I a young woman. 'Have the + boats gone yet?' he asked, meaning the herring boats that go at sunset. I + looked out and told him they were at the point of going. 'Let me see them + sail,' he said, so I slipped my arms about him and raised him until he was + sitting up and could see down the length of the harbour and past the + castle to the sea. The reflection of the sunlight was about his silvery + old head, and over the damps and chills of death it made a radiance on his + face like a light from heaven. There was hardly a breeze, and the boats + were dropping down from their berths with their brown sails half set. + 'Ah,' he said, 'it's the other way with me, Glory. I'm coming in, not + going out. I've been beating to windward all my life, but I see the + harbour on my lee-bow at last as plainly as I ever saw Peel, and now I'm + only waiting for the top of the tide and the master of the port to run up + the flag!' + </p> + <p> + “Then his head fell gently back on my arm and his lips changed colour, but + his eyes did not close, and over his saintly face there passed a fleeting + smile. Thus died a Christian gentleman—a simple, sunny, merry, + happy, childlike creature, and of such are the kingdom of heaven. + </p> + <p> + “Glory.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <i>Parson Quayle's Letter.</i> + </p> + <p> + “Dear John: Before this letter reaches you, or perhaps along with it, you + will receive the news that tells you what it is. I am 'in,' John; I can + say no more than that. The doctor tells me it may be now or then or at any + time. But I am looking for my enlargement soon, and whether it comes + to-morrow sunset or with to-day's next tide I leave myself in His hands in + whose hands we all are. Well has the wise man said, 'The day of our death + is better than the day of our birth, so with all good will, and what + legacy of strength old age has left to me, I send you my last word and + message. + </p> + <p> + “My poor old daughters are sorely stricken, but Glory is still brave and + true, being, as she always was, a quivering bow of steel. People tell me + that the poor mother is strong in the girl, and the spirit of the mother's + race; but well I know the father's stalwart soul supports her; and I pray + God that when my dark hour comes her loving and courageous arms may be + around me. + </p> + <p> + “That brings me to the object of my letter. This living will soon be + vacant, and I am wondering who will follow in my feeble steps. It is a + sweet spot, John! The old church does not look so ill when the sun shines + on it, and in the summer-time this old garden is full of fruit and + flowers. Did I ever tell you that Glory was born here? I never had another + grandchild, and we were great comrades from the first. She was a wise and + winsome little thing, and I was only an old child myself, so we had many a + run and romp in these grounds together. When I try to think of the place + without her it is a vain effort and a painful one; and even while she was + away in your great and wicked Babylon, with its dangers and temptations, + her little ghost seemed to lurk at the back of every bush and tree, and + sometimes it would leap out on me and laugh. + </p> + <p> + “It is months since I saw your father, but they tell me he has lately + burned his bureau, making one vast bonfire of the gatherings of twenty + years. That is not such ill news either; and maybe, now the great ado that + worked such woe is put by and gone, he would rejoice to see you back at + home, and open his hungering arms to you. + </p> + <p> + “But my eyes ache and my pen is shaking. Farewell! Farewell! Farewell! An + old man leaves you his blessing, John. God grant that in his own good time + we may meet in a blessed paradise, rejoicing in his gracious mercy, and + all our sins forgiven! + </p> + <p> + “Adam Quayle.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. + </h2> + <p> + Glory's letter and its inclosure fell on John Storm like rain in the face + of a man on horseback—he only whipped up and went faster. + </p> + <p> + “How can I find words,” he wrote, “to express what I feel at your mournful + news? Yet why mournful? His life's mission was fulfilled, his death was a + peaceful victory, and we ought to rejoice that he was so easily released. + I trust you will not mourn too heavily for him, or allow his death to stop + your life. It would not be right. No trouble came near his stainless + heart, no shadow of sin; his old age was a peaceful day which lasted until + sunset. He was a creature that had no falsetto in a single fibre of his + being, no shadow of affectation. He kept like this through all our + complicated existence in this artificial world, absolutely unconscious of + the hollowness and pretension and sham that surrounded him—tolerant, + too, and kind to all. Then why mourn for him? He is gathered in—he + is safe. + </p> + <p> + “His letter was touching in its artful simplicity. It was intended to ask + me to apply for his living. But my duty is here, and London must make the + best of me. Yet more than ever now I feel my responsibility with regard to + yourself. The time is not ripe to advise you. I am on the eve of a great + effort. Many things have to be tried, many things attempted. It is a + gathering of manna—a little every day. To God's keeping and + protection meantime I commit you. Comfort your aunts, and let me know if + there is anything that can be done for them.” + </p> + <p> + The ink of this letter was hardly dry when John Storm was in the middle of + something else. He was in a continual fever now. Above all, his great + scheme for the rescue and redemption of women and children possessed him. + He called it Glory's scheme when he talked of it to himself. It might be + in the teeth of nineteenth-century morality, but what matter about that? + It was on the lines of Christ's teaching when he forgave the woman and + shamed the hypocrites. He would borrow for it, beg for it, and there might + be conditions under which he would steal for it too. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Callender shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I much misdoubt there'll be scandal, laddie. It's a woman's work, I'm + thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “'Be thou as chaste as ice,' auntie, 'as pure as snow' ... but no matter! + I intend to call out the full power of a united Church into the warfare + against this high wickedness. Talk of the union of Christendom! If we are + in earnest about it we'll unite to protect and liberate our women.” + </p> + <p> + “But where's the siller to come frae, laddie?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere—everywhere! Besides, I have a bank I can always draw on, + auntie.” + </p> + <p> + “You're no meaning the Prime Minister again, surely?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean the King of Kings. God will provide for me, in this, as in + everything.” + </p> + <p> + Thus his reckless enthusiasm bore down everything, and at the back of all + his thoughts was the thought of Glory. He was preparing a way for her; she + was coming back to a great career, a glorious mission; her bright soul + would shine like a star; she would see that he had been right, and + faithful, and then—then——But it was like wine coursing + through his veins—he could not think of it. + </p> + <p> + Three thousand pounds had to be found to buy or build homes with, and he + set out to beg for the money. His first call was at Mrs. Macrae's. Going + up to the house, he met the lady's poodle in a fawn-coloured wrap coming + out in charge of a footman for its daily walk round the square. + </p> + <p> + He gave the name of “Father Storm,” and after some minutes of waiting he + was told that the lady had a headache and was not receiving that day. + </p> + <p> + “Say the nephew of the Prime Minister wishes to see her,” said John. + </p> + <p> + Before the footman had returned again there was the gentle rustle of a + dress on the stairs, and the lady herself was saying: “Dear Mr. Storm, + come up. My servants are real tiresome, they are always confusing names.” + </p> + <p> + Time had told on her; she was looking elderly, and the wrinkles about her + eyes could no longer be smoothed out. But her “front” was curled, and she + was still saturated in perfume. + </p> + <p> + “I heard of your return, dear Mr. Storm,” she said, in the languid voice + of the great lady, but the accent of St. Louis, as she led the way to the + drawing-room. “My daughter told me about it. She was always interested in + your work, you know.... Oh, yes, quite well, and having a real good time + in Paris. Of course, you know she has been married. A great loss to me + naturally, but being God's will I felt it was my duty as a mother——” + and then a pathetic description of her maternal sentiments, consoled by + the circumstance that her son-in-law belonged to “one of the best + families,” and that she was constantly getting newspapers from “the other + side” containing full accounts of the wedding and of the dresses that were + worn at it. + </p> + <p> + John twirled his hat in his hand and listened. + </p> + <p> + “And what are your dear devoted people doing down there in Soho?” + </p> + <p> + Then John told of his work for working girls, and the great lady pretended + to be deeply interested. “Why, they'll soon be better than the upper + classes,” she said. + </p> + <p> + John thought it was not improbable, but he went on to tell of his scheme, + and how small was the sum required for its execution. + </p> + <p> + “Only three thousand! That ought to be easily fixed up. Why, certainly!” + </p> + <p> + “Charity is the salt of riches, madam, and if rich people would remember + that their wealth is a trust——” + </p> + <p> + “I do—I always do. 'Lay not up for yourselves treasure on earth'—what + a beautiful text <i>that</i> is!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to hear you say so, madam. So many Christian people allow that + God is the God of the widow and fatherless, while the gods they really + worship are the gods of silver and gold.” + </p> + <p> + “But I love the dear children, and I like to go to the institution to see + them in their nice white pinafores making their curtsies. But what you say + is real true, Mr. Storm; and since I came from Sent Louis I've seen + considerable people who are that silly about cats——” and then + a long story of the folly of a lady friend who once had a pet Persian, but + it died, and she wore crape for it, and you could never mention a cat in + her hearing afterward. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the poodle came back from its walk, and the lady called it + to her, fondled it affectionately, said it was a present from her poor + dear husband, and launched into an account of her anxieties respecting it, + being delicate and liable to colds, notwithstanding the trousseau (it was + a lady poodle) which the fashionable dog tailor in Regent Street had + provided for it. + </p> + <p> + John got up to take his leave. “May I then count on your kind support on + behalf of our poor women and children of Soho?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, of course, that matter—well, you see the Archdeacon kindly + comes to talk 'City' with me—in fact, I'm expecting him to-day—and + I never do anything without asking his advice, never, in my present state + of health—I have a weak heart, you know,” with her head aside and + her saturated pocket-handkerchief at her nose. “But has the Prime Minister + done anything?” + </p> + <p> + “He has advanced me two thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” rising and kicking back her train. “Well, as I say, we ought to + fix it right away. Why not hold a meeting in my drawing-room? All + denominations, you say? I don't mind—not in a cause like that,” and + she glanced round her room as if thinking it was always possible to + disinfect it afterward. + </p> + <p> + Somebody was coughing loudly in the hall as John stepped downstairs. It + was the Archdeacon coming in. “Ah,” he exclaimed, with a flourish of the + hand, greeting John as if they had parted yesterday and on the best of + terms. Yes, there <i>had</i> been changes, and he was promoted to a sphere + of higher usefulness. True, his good friends had looked for something + still higher, but it was the premier archdeaconry at all events, and in + the Church, as in life generally, the spirit of compromise ruled + everything. He asked what John was doing, and on being told he said, with + a somewhat more worldly air, “Be careful, my dear Storm, don't encourage + vice. For my part, I am tired of the 'fallen sister.' To tell you the + truth, I deny the name. The painted Jezebel of the Piccadilly pavement is + no sister of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “We don't choose our relations, Archdeacon,” said John. “If God is our + Father, then all men are our brothers, and all women are our sisters + whether we like it or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! The same man still, I see. But we will not quarrel about words. Seen + the dear Prime Minister lately? Not <i>very</i> lately? Ah, well”—with + a superior smile—“the air of Downing Street—it's so bad for + the memory, they say,” and coughing loudly again, he stepped upstairs. + </p> + <p> + John Storm went home that day light-handed but with a heavy heart. + </p> + <p> + “Begging is an ill trade on a fast day, laddie,” said Mrs. Callender. “Sit + you down and tak' some dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “How dare these people pray, 'Our Father which art in heaven?' It's + blasphemy! It's deceit!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, and they would deceive God about their dividends if he couldn't see + into their safes.” + </p> + <p> + “Their money is the meanest thing Heaven gives them. If I asked them for + their health or their happiness, Lord God, what would they say?” + </p> + <p> + On the Sunday night following John Storm preached to an overflowing + congregation from the text, “This people draweth nigh unto me with their + mouth and honoureth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.” + </p> + <p> + But a few weeks afterward his face was bright and his voice was cheery, + and he was writing another letter to Glory: + </p> + <p> + “In full swing at last, Glory. To carry out my new idea I had to get three + thousand pounds more of my mother's money from my uncle. He gave it up + cheerfully, only saying he was curious to see what approach to the + Christian ideal the situation of civilization permitted. But Mrs. + Callender is <i>dour</i>, and every time I spend sixpence of my own money + on the Church she utters withering sarcasms about being only a 'daft auld + woman hersel',' and then I have to caress and coax her. + </p> + <p> + “The newspapers were facetious about my 'Baby Houses' until they scented + the Prime Minister at the back of them, and now they call them the 'Storm + Shelters,' and christen my nightly processions 'The White-cross Army.' + Even the Archdeacon has begun to tell the world how he 'took an interest' + in me from the first and gave me my title. I met him again the other day + at a rich woman's house, where we had only one little spar, and yesterday + he wrote urging me to 'organize my great effort,' and have a public dinner + in honour of its inauguration. I did not think God's work could be well + done by people dining in herds and drinking bottles of champagne, but I + showed no malice. In fact, I agreed to hold a meeting in the lady's + drawing-room, to which clergymen, laymen, and members of all denominations + are being invited, for this is a cause that rises above all differences of + dogma, and I intend to try what can be done toward a union of Christendom + on a social basis. Mrs. Callender is dour on that subject too, reminding + me that where the carcass is there will the eagles be gathered together. + The Archdeacon thinks we must have the meeting before the twelfth of + August, or not until after the middle of September, and Mrs. Callender + understands this to mean that 'the Holy Ghost always goes to sleep in the + grouse season.' + </p> + <p> + “Meantime my Girls' Club goes like a forest fire. We are in our renovated + clergy-house at last, and have everything comfortable. Two hundred members + already, chiefly dressmakers and tailors, and girls out of the jam and + match factories. The bright, merry young things, rejoicing in their brief + blossoming time between girlhood and womanhood. I love to be among them + and to look at their glistening eyes! Mrs. Callender blows withering + blasts on this head also, saying it is no place for a 'laddie,' whereupon + I lie low and think much but say nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Our great night is Sunday night after service. Yes, indeed, Sunday! + That's just when the devil's houses are all open round about us, and why + should God's house be shut up? It is all very well for the people who have + only one Sabbath in the week to keep it wholly holy—I have seven, + being a follower of Jesus, not of Moses. But the rector of the parish has + begun to complain of my 'intrusion,' and to tell the Bishop I ought to be + 'mended or ended.' It seems that my 'doings' are 'indecent and + unnecessary,' and my sermons are 'a violation of all the sanctities, all + the modesties of existence.' Poor dumb dog, teaching the Gospel of Don't! + The world has never been reformed by 'resignation' to the evils of life, + or converted by 'silence' either. + </p> + <p> + “How I wish you were here, in the midst of it all! And—who knows?—perhaps + you will be some day yet. Do not trouble to answer this—I will write + again soon, and may then have something practical to say to you. <i>Au + revoir!</i>” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. + </h2> + <p> + On the day of the drawing-room meeting a large company gathered in the + hall at Belgrave Square. Lady Robert Ure, back from the honeymoon, + received the guests for her mother, whose weak heart and a headache kept + her upstairs. Her husband stood aside, chewing the end of his mustache and + looking through his eyeglass with a gleam of amused interest in his + glittering eye. There were many ladies, all fashionably dressed, and one + of them wore a seagull's wing in her hat, with part of the root left + visible and painted red to show that it had been torn out of the living + bird. The men were nearly all clergymen, and the cut of their cloth and + the fashions of their ties indicated the various complexions of their + creeds. They glanced at each other with looks of embarrassment, and Mrs. + Callender, who came in like a breeze off a Scottish moor, said audibly + that she had never seen “sae many craws on one tree before.” The + Archdeacon was there with his head up, talking loudly to Lady Robert. She + stood motionless in her place, never turning her head toward John Storm, + though it was plain that she was looking at him constantly. More than once + he caught an expression of pain in her face, and felt pity for her as one + of the brides who had acted the lie of marrying without love. But his + spirits were high. He welcomed everybody, and even bantered Mrs. Callender + when she told him she “objected to the hale thing,” and said, “Weel, weel, + wait a wee.” + </p> + <p> + The Archdeacon gave the signal and led the way with Lady Robert to the + drawing-room, where Mrs. Macrae, redolent of perfume, was reclining on a + sofa with the “lady poodle” by her side. As soon as the company were + seated the Archdeacon rose and coughed loudly. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we have no assurance of a blessing + except 'Ask and ye shall receive.' Therefore, before we go further, it is + our duty, as brethren of a common family in Christ, to ask the blessing of + Almighty God on this enterprise.” + </p> + <p> + There was a subdued rustle of drooping hats and bonnets, when suddenly a + thin voice was heard to say, “Mr. Archdeacon, may I inquire first who is + to ask the blessing?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of doing so myself,” said the Archdeacon with a meek smile. + </p> + <p> + “In that case, as a Unitarian, I must object to an invocation in which I + do not believe.” + </p> + <p> + There was a half-suppressed titter from the wall at the back, where Lord + Robert Ure was standing with his face screwed up to his eyeglass. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if the name of our Lord is a stumbling block to our Unitarian, + brother, no doubt the prayer in this instance would be acceptable without + the customary Christian benediction.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just like you,” said a large man near the door, with whiskers all + round his face. “You've been trimming all your life, and now you are going + to trim away the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” + </p> + <p> + “If our Low-Church brother thinks he can do better——” + </p> + <p> + But John Storm intervened. He had looked icy cold, though the twitching of + his lower lip showed that he was red hot within. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a quavering voice, “I apologize for + bringing you together. I thought if we were in earnest about the union of + Christendom we might at least unite in the real contest with evil. But I + find it is a dream; we have only been trifling with ourselves, and there + is not one of us who wants the union of Christendom, except on the + condition that his rod shall be like Aaron's rod which swallowed up all + the rest. It was a mistake, and I beg your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the Archdeacon, “it <i>was</i> a mistake; and if you had + taken my advice from the first, and asked the blessing of God through good + High Churchmen alone——” + </p> + <p> + “God doesn't wait for any asking,” said John, now flushing up to the eyes. + “He gives freely to High Churchmen, Low Churchmen, and No Churchmen + alike.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is your opinion, sir, you are no better than some of your + friends, and for my part I will never darken your door again!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Darken</i> is a good word for it, Archdeacon,” said John, and with + that the company broke up. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Macrae looked like a thunder-cloud as John bowed to her on passing + out, but Mrs. Callender cried out in a jubilant voice, “Be skipper of your + ain ship, laddie!” and added (being two yards behind the Archdeacon's + broad back going down the stairs), “If some folks are to be inheritors of + the kingdom of heaven there'll be a michty crush at the pearly gates, I'm + thinking!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm went back to Soho with a heavy heart. Going up Victoria Street + he passed a crowd of ragged people who were ploughing their way through + the carriages. Two constables were taking a man and woman to the police + court in Rochester Row. The prisoners were Sharkey, the keeper of the + gambling house, and his wife the baby-farmer. + </p> + <p> + But within a week John Storm, in greater spirits than ever, was writing to + Glory again: + </p> + <p> + “The Archdeacon has deserted me, but no matter! My uncle has advanced me + another thousand of my mother's money, so the crusade is <i>self</i>-supporting + in one sense at all events. What a fool I am! Ask Aunt Anna her opinion of + me, or say old Chalse or the village natural—but never mind! Folly + and wisdom are relative terms, and I don't envy the world its narrow ideas + of either. You would be amused to see how the women of the West End are + taking up the movement—Lady Robert Ure among the rest! They have + banded themselves into a Sisterhood, and christened our clergy-house a + 'Settlement.' One of my Greek owners came in the other evening to see the + alterations. His eyes glistened at the change, and he asked leave to bring + a friend. I trust you are well and settling things comfortably, and that + Miss Macquarrie has gone. It is raining through a colander here, but I + have no time to think of depressing weather. Sometimes when I cross our + great squares, where the birds sing among the yellowing leaves, my mind + goes off to your sweet home in the sunshine; and when I drop into the dark + alleys and lanes, where the pale-faced children play in their poverty and + rags, I think of a day that is coming, and, God willing, is now so near, + when a ministering angel of tenderness and strength will be passing + through them like a gleam. But I am more than ever sure that you do well + to avoid for the present the pompous joys of life in London, where for one + happy being there are a thousand pretenders to happiness.” + </p> + <p> + On the Sunday night following, Crook Lane, outside the clergy-house, was + almost blocked with noisy people of both sexes. They were a detachment of + the “Skeletons,” and the talk among them was of the trial of the Sharkeys, + which had taken place the day before. “They've 'ed six menths,” said one. + “And it's all along o' minjee parsons,” said another; and Charlie Wilkes, + who had a certain reputation for humour, did a step-dance and sang some + doggerel beginning— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Father Storm is a werry good man, + 'E does you all the 'arm 'e can. +</pre> + <p> + Through this crowd two gentlemen pushed their way to the clergy-house, + which was brilliantly lit up. One of them was the Greek owner, the other + was Lord Robert Ure. Entering a large room on the ground floor, they first + came upon John Storm, in cassock and biretta, standing at the door and + shaking hands with everybody who came in and went out. He betrayed no + surprise, but greeted them respectfully and then passed them on. Every + moment of his time was occupied. The room was full of the young girls of + the district, with here and there a Sister out of another world entirely. + Some were reading, some conversing, some laughing, some playing a piano, + and some singing. Their voices filled the air like the chirping of birds, + and their faces were bright and happy. “Good-evening, Father,” they said + on entering, and “Good-night, Father,” as they went away. + </p> + <p> + The two men stood some minutes and looked round the room. It was observed + that Lord Robert did not remove his hat. He kept chewing the end of a + broken cigarette, whereof the other end hung down his chin. One of the + Sisters heard him say, “It will do with a little alteration, I think.” + Then he went off alone, and the Greek owner stepped up to John Storm. + </p> + <p> + It was not at first that John could attend to him, and when he was able to + do so he began to rattle on about his own affairs. “See,” he said with a + delighted smile and a wave of the arm, “see how crowded we are! We'll have + to think of taking in the next door soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Father Storm,” said the Greek, “I have something serious to say, though + the official notification will of course reach you by another channel.” + </p> + <p> + John's face darkened as a ripe cornfield does when the sun dies away from + it. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to tell you that the trustees, having had a favourable offer + for this property——” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” His great staring eyes had stopped the man. + </p> + <p> + “——have decided to sell.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Sell</i>? Did you say se——? To whom? What?” + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the truth, to the syndicate of a music hall.” + </p> + <p> + John staggered back, breathing audibly. “Now if a man had to believe that—Do + you know if I thought such a thing <i>could</i> happen——” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry you take the matter so seriously, Father Storm. It's true + you've spent money on the property, but, believe me, the trustees will + derive no profit——” + </p> + <p> + “Profit? Money? Do you suppose I'm thinking of that, and not of the + desecration, the outrage, the horror? But who are they? Is that man—Lord——” + </p> + <p> + The Greek had nodded his head, and John flung open the door. “Out of this! + Out of it, you Judas!” And almost before the Greek had crossed the + threshold the door was banged at his back. + </p> + <p> + The incident had been observed, and there was dead silence in the + club-room, but John only cried, “Let's sing something, girls,” and when a + Sister struck up his favourite Nazareth there was no voice so loud as his. + </p> + <p> + But he had realized everything. “Gloria” was coming back, and the work of + months was overthrown! + </p> + <p> + When he was going home groups of the girls were talking in whispers in the + hall, and Mrs. Pincher, who was wiping her eyes at the door, said, “I + wonder you don't drown yourself—I do!” + </p> + <p> + At the corner of the lane Mr. Jupe was waiting for him to beg his pardon + and to ask his advice. What he had said of Mrs. Jupe had turned out to be + true. The Sharkeys had “split” on her and she had been arrested. “It was + all in the evenin' pipers last night,” the weak creature whimpered, “and + to-day my manager told me I 'ad best look out for another place. Oh, my + poor Lidjer! What am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do? Cut her off like a rotten bough!” said John scornfully, and with that + he strode down the street. The human sea roared around him, and he felt as + if he wanted to fling himself into the midst of it and be swallowed up. + </p> + <p> + On reaching Victoria Square he told Mrs. Callender the news—flung it + out at her with a sort of triumphant shout. His church had been sold over + his head, and being only “Chaplain to the Greek-Turks,” he was to be + turned into the streets. Then he laughed wildly, and by some devilish + impulse began to abuse Glory. “The next chaplain is to be a girl,” he + cried, “one of those creatures who throw kisses at gaping crowds and sweep + curtsies for their dirty crusts.” + </p> + <p> + But all at once he turned white as a ghost and sat down trembling. Mrs. + Callender's face was twitching, and to prevent herself from crying she + burst into scorching satire. “There!” she said, sitting in her + rocking-chair and rocking herself furiously, “I ken'd weel what it would + come til! Adversity mak's a man wise, they say, if it doesna mak' him + rich. But it's the Prime Minister I blame for this. The auld dolt! he must + be fallen to his dotage. It's enough to mak' a reasonable body go out of + her mind to think of sic wise asses. I told you what to expect, but you + were always miscalling me for a suspicious auld woman. Oh, it's a thing + ye'd no suspect; but Jane Callender is only a daft auld fool, ye see, and + doesna ken what she's saying!” + </p> + <p> + But at the next moment she had jumped up and flung her arms about John's + neck, and was crying over him like a girl. “Oh, my son! my ain son! And is + it for me to fling out at ye? Aye, aye, it's a heartless world, laddie!” + </p> + <p> + He kissed the old woman, and then she tried to coax him to eat. “Come, + come, a wee bittie, just a wee bittie. We must eat our supper anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “God seems dead and heaven a long way off!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “And a drap o' whisky will do no harm—a wee drappie.” + </p> + <p> + “There's only one thing clear—God sees I'm unfit for the work, so he + has taken it away from me.” + </p> + <p> + She turned aside from the table, and the supper was left untouched. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + The first post next morning brought a letter from Glory. + </p> + <p> + “The Garden House, + </p> + <p> + “Clement's Inn, W. C. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me! I have returned to town! I couldn't help it, I couldn't, I + couldn't! London dragged me back. What was I to do after everything was + settled and the aunties provided for?—assist in a dame's school and + wage war with pothooks and hangers? Oh! I was dying of weariness—dying, + dying, dying! + </p> + <p> + “And then they made me such tempting offers. Not the music hall—don't + think that. I dare say you were quite right there. No, but the theatre, + the regular theatre! Mr. Drake has bought some broken-down old place, and + is to turn it into a beautiful theatre expressly for me. I am to play + Juliet. Only think—Juliet!—and in my own theatre! Already I + feel like a liberated slave who has crossed her Red Sea. + </p> + <p> + “And don't think a woman's mourning is like the silly old laws which + lasted but three days. <i>He</i> is buried in my heart, not in the earth, + and I shall love him and revere him always! And then didn't you tell me + yourself it would not be right to allow his death to stop my life? + </p> + <p> + “Write and say you forgive me, John. Reply by return, and make yourself + your own postman—registered. You'll find me here at Rosa's. Come, + come, come! I'll never forgive you if you don't come soon—never, + never! + </p> + <p> + “Glory.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. + </h2> + <p> + A fortnight had passed, and John Storm had not yet visited Glory. + Nevertheless, he had heard of her from day to day through the medium of + the newspapers. Every morning he had glanced down the black columns for + the name that stood out from them as if its letters had been printed in + blood. The reports had been many and mysterious. First, the brilliant + young artiste, who had made such an extraordinary impression some months + before, had returned to London and would shortly resume the promising + career which had been interrupted by illness and family bereavement. Next, + the forthcoming appearance would be on the regular stage, and in a + Shakespearian character, which was always understood to be a crucial test + of histrionic genius. Then, the revival of Romeo and Juliet, which had + formerly been in contemplation, would probably give way to the still more + ambitious project of an entirely new production by a well-known + Scandinavian author, with a part peculiarly fitted to the personality and + talents of the <i>débutante</i>. Finally, a syndicate was about to be + formed for the purchase of some old property, with a view to its + reconstruction as a theatre, in the interests of the new play and the new + player. + </p> + <p> + John Storm laughed bitterly. He told himself that Glory was unworthy of + the least of his thoughts. It was his duty to go on with his work and + think of her no more. + </p> + <p> + He had received his official notice to quit. The church was to be given up + in a month, the clergy-house in two months, and he believed himself to be + immersed in preparations for the rehousing of the club and home. Twenty + young mothers and their children now lived in the upper rooms, under + obedience to the Sisterhood, but Polly's boy had remained with Mrs. + Pincher. From time to time he had seen the little one tethered to a chair + by a scarf about its waist, creeping by the wall to the door, and there + gazing out on the world with looks of intelligence, and babbling to it in + various inarticulate noises. “Boo-loo! Lal-la! Mum-um!” The little dark + face had the eyes of its mother, but it represented Glory for all that. + John Storm loved to see it. He felt that he could never part with it, and + that if Lord Robert Ure himself came and asked for it he would bundle him + out of doors. + </p> + <p> + But a carriage drew up at Mrs. Callender's one morning, and Lady Robert + Ure stepped out. Her pale and patient face had the feeble and nervous + smile of the humiliated and unloved. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Storm,” she said in her gentle voice, “I have come on a delicate + errand. I can not delay any longer a duty I ought to have discharged + before.” + </p> + <p> + It was about Polly's baby. She had heard of what had happened at the + hospital; and the newspapers which had followed her to Paris, with reports + of her wedding, had contained reports of the girl's death also. Since her + return she had inquired about the child, and discovered that it had been + rescued by him and was now in careful keeping. + </p> + <p> + “But it is for me to look after it, Mr. Storm, and I beg of you to give it + up to me. Something tells me that God will never give me children of my + own, so I shall be doing no harm to any one, and my husband need never + know whose child it is I adopt. I promise you to be good to it. It shall + never leave me. And if it should live to be a man, and grow to love me, + that will help me to forget the past and to forgive myself for my own + share in it. Oh, it is little I can do for the poor girl who is gone—for, + after all, she loved him and I took him from her. But this is my duty, Mr. + Storm, and I can not sleep at night or rest in the day until it is begun.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know if it is your duty, dear lady, but if you wish for the child + it is your right,” said John Storm, and they got into the carriage and + drove to Soho. + </p> + <p> + “Boo-loo! Lal-la! Mum-um!” The child was tethered to the chair as usual + and talking to the world according to its wont. When it was gone and the + women on the doorsteps could see no more of the fine carriage of the great + lady who had brought the odour of perfume and the rustle of silk into the + dingy court, and Mrs. Pincher had turned back to the house with red eyes + and her widow's cap awry, John Storm told himself that everything was for + the best. The last link with Glory was broken! Thank God for that! He + might go on with his work now and need think of her no more! + </p> + <p> + That day he called at Clement's Inn. + </p> + <p> + The Garden House was a pleasant dwelling, fronting on two of its sides to + the garden of the ancient Inn of Chancery, and cosily furnished with many + curtains and rugs. The Cockney maid who answered the door was familiar in + a moment, and during the short passage from the hall to the floor above + she communicated many things. Her name was Liza; she had heard him preach; + he had made her cry; “Miss Gloria” had known her former mistress, and Mr. + Drake had got her the present place. + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of laughter from the drawing-room. It was Glory's voice. + When the door opened she was standing in the middle of the floor in a + black dress and with a pale face, but her eyes were bright and she was + laughing merrily. She stopped when John Storm entered and looked confused + and ashamed. Drake, who was lounging on the couch, rose and bowed to him, + and Miss Macquarrie, who was correcting long slips of printer's proofs at + a desk by the window, came forward and welcomed him. Glory held his hand + with her long hand-clasp and looked steadfastly into his eyes. His face + twitched and her own blushed deeply, and then she talked in a nervous and + jerky way, reproaching him for his neglect of her. + </p> + <p> + “I have been busy,” he began, and then stopped with a sense of hypocrisy. + “I mean worried and tormented,” and then stopped again, for Drake had + dropped his head. + </p> + <p> + She laughed, though there was nothing to laugh at, and proposed tea, + rattling along in broken sentences that were spoken with a tremulous + trill, which had a suggestion of tears behind it. “Shall I ring for tea, + Rosa? Oh, you <i>have</i> rung for tea! Ah, here it comes!—Thank + you, Liza. Set it here,” seating herself. “Now who says the 'girl'? + Remember?” and then more laughter. + </p> + <p> + At that moment there was another arrival. It was Lord Robert Ure. He + kissed Rosa's hand, smiled on Glory, saluted Drake familiarly, and then + settled himself on a low stool by the tea-table, pulled up the knees of + his trousers, relaxed the congested muscles of one half of his face, and + let fall his eyeglass. + </p> + <p> + Drake was handing out the cups as Glory filled them. He was looking at her + attentively, vexed at the change in her manner since John Storm entered. + When he returned to his seat on the sofa he began to twitch the ear of her + pug, which lay coiled up asleep beside him, calling it an ugly little + pestilence, and wondering why she carried it about with her. Glory + protested that it was an angel of a dog, whereupon he supposed it was now + dreaming of paradise—listen!—and then there were audible + snores in the silence, and everybody laughed, and Glory screamed. + </p> + <p> + “I declare, on my honour, my dear,” said Drake with a mischievous look at + John, “the creature is uglier than the beast that did the business on the + day we eloped.” + </p> + <p> + “Eloped!” cried Rosa and Lord Robert together. + </p> + <p> + “Why, did you never hear that Glory eloped with me?” + </p> + <p> + Glory was trying to drown his voice with hollow laughter. + </p> + <p> + “She was seven and I was six and a half, and she had proposed to me in the + orchard the day before!” + </p> + <p> + “Anybody have more tea? No? Some sally-lunn, perhaps?” and then more + laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, Glory! Nobody wants your tea! Let us hear the story,” + said Rosa. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, certainly,” said Lord Robert, and everybody laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “She was all for travel and triumphal processions in those days——” + </p> + <p> + Glory stopped her ears and began to sing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Willy, Willy Wilkin, + Kissed the maid a-milkin'! + Fa, la la! +</pre> + <p> + “There were so many things people could do if they wouldn't waste so much + time working——” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Willy, Willy Wilkin + Kissed the maid—— +</pre> + <p> + “Glory, if you don't be quiet we'll turn you out!” and Rosa got up and + nourished her proofs. + </p> + <p> + “I had brought my dog, and when I called her a——” + </p> + <p> + But Glory had leaped to her feet and fled from the room. Drake had leaped + up also, and now, putting his back against the door, he raised his voice + and went on with his story. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody saved us, though, and she lay in his arms and kissed him all the + way home again.” + </p> + <p> + Glory was strumming on the door and singing to drown his voice. When the + story was ended and she was allowed to come back she was panting and + gasping with laughter, but there were tears in her eyes for all that, and + Lord Robert was saying, with a sidelong look toward John Storm, “Really, + this ought to be a scene in the new Sigurdsen, don't you know!” + </p> + <p> + John had retired within himself during this nonsense. He had been feeling + an intense hatred of the two men, and was looking as gloomy as deep water. + “All acting, sheer acting,” he thought, and then he told himself that + Glory was only worthy of his contempt. What could attract her in the + society of such men? Only their wealth, and their social station. Their + intellectual and moral atmosphere must weary and revolt her. + </p> + <p> + Rosa had to go to her newspaper office, and Drake saw her to the door. + John rose at the same time, and Glory said, “Going already?” but she did + not try to detain him. She would see him again; she had much to say to + him. “I suppose you were surprised to hear that I had returned to London?” + she said, looking up at his knitted brows. + </p> + <p> + He did not answer immediately, and Lord Robert, who was leaning against + the chimney-piece, said in his cold drawl, “Your friend ought to be happy + that you have returned to London, seems to me, my dear, instead of wasting + your life in that wilderness.” + </p> + <p> + John drew himself up. “It's not London I object to,” he said; “that was + inevitable, I dare say.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “The profession she has come back to follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's amiss with the profession?” said Lord Robert, and Drake, who + returned to the room at the moment, said: “Yes, what's amiss with it? Some + of the best men in the world have belonged to it, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the name of one of them, since the world began, who ever lived an + active Christian life.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert made a kink of laughter, and, turning to the window, began to + play a tune with his finger tips on the glass of a pane. Drake struggled + to keep a straight face, and answered, “It is not their rôle, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, if that's too much to ask, tell me how many of them have done + anything in real life, anything for the world, for humanity—anything + whatever, I don't care what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “You are unreasonable, sir,” said Drake, “and such objections could as + properly apply to the professions of the painter and the musician. These + are the children of joy. Their first function is to amuse. And surely + amusement has its place in real life, as you say.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” said John, following his own thought, for he had not + listened, “how many of them have lived lives of reckless abandonment, + self-indulgence, and even scandalous license!” + </p> + <p> + “Those are abuses that apply equally to other professions, sir. Even the + Church is not free from them. But in the view of reasonable beings one + clergyman of evil life—nay, one hundred—would not make the + profession of the clergy bad.” + </p> + <p> + “A profession,” said John, “which appeals above all to the senses, and + lives on the emotions, and fosters jealousy and vanity and backbiting, and + develops duplicity, and exists on lies, and does nothing to encourage + self-sacrifice or to help suffering humanity, is a bad profession and a + sinful one!” + </p> + <p> + “If a profession is sinful,” said Drake, “in proportion as it appeals to + the senses, and lives on the emotions, and develops duplicity, then the + profession of the Church is the most sinful in the world, for it offers + the greatest temptations to lying, and produces the worst hypocrites and + impostors!” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said John, with eyes flashing and passion vibrating in his voice—“that, + sir, is the great Liar's everlasting lie—and you know it!” + </p> + <p> + Glory was between them with uplifted hands. “Peace, peace! Blessed is the + peacemaker! But tea! Will nobody take more tea? Oh, dear! oh, dear! Why + can't we have tea over again?” + </p> + <p> + “I know what you mean, sir,” said Drake. “You mean that I have brought + Glory back to a life of danger and vanity, and sloth and sensuality. Very + well. I deny your definition. But call it what you will, I have brought + her back to the only life her talents are fit for, and if that's all——” + </p> + <p> + “Would you have done the same for your own sister?” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you introduce my sister's name in this connection?” + </p> + <p> + “And how dare you resent it? What's good for one woman is good for + another.” + </p> + <p> + Glory was turning aside, and Drake was looking ashamed. “Of course—naturally—all + I meant,” he faltered—“if a girl has to earn her living, whatever + her talents, her genius—that is one thing. But the upper classes, I + mean the leisured classes——” + </p> + <p> + “Damn the leisured classes, sir!” said John, and in the silence that + followed the men looked round, but Glory was gone from the room. + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert, who had been whistling at the window, said to Drake in a + cynical undertone: “The man is hipped and sore. He has lost his challenge, + and we ought to make allowances for him, don't you know.” + </p> + <p> + Drake tried to laugh. “I'm willing to make allowances,” he said lightly; + “but when a man talks to me as if—as if I meant to——” + but the light tone broke down, and he faced round upon John and burst out + passionately: “What right have you to talk to me like this? What is there + in my character, in my life, that justifies it? What woman's honour have I + betrayed? What have I done that is unworthy of the character of an English + gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + John took a stride forward and came face to face and eye to eye with him. + “What have you done?” he said. “You have used a woman as your decoy to win + your challenge, as you say, and you have struck me in the face with the + hand of the woman I love! That's what you've done, sir, and if it's worthy + of the character of an English gentleman, then God help England!” + </p> + <p> + Drake put his hand to his head and his flushed face turned pale. But Lord + Robert Ure stepped forward and said with a smile: “Well, and if you've + lost your church so much the better. You are only an outsider in the + ecclesiastical stud anyway. Who wants you? Your rector doesn't want you; + your Bishop doesn't want you. Nobody wants you, if you ask me.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't ask you, Lord Robert,” said John. “But there's somebody who does + want me for all that. Shall I tell you who it is? It's the poor and + helpless girl who has been deceived by the base and selfish man, and then + left to fight the battle of life alone, or to die by suicide and go + shuddering down to hell! That's who wants me, and, God willing, I mean to + stand by her.” + </p> + <p> + “Damme, sir, if you mean <i>me</i>, let me tell you what <i>you</i> are,” + said Lord Robert, screwing up his eyeglass. “You”—shaking his head + right and left—“you are a man who takes delicately nurtured ladies + out of sheltered homes and sends them into holes and hovels in search of + abandoned women and their misbegotten children! Why”—turning to + Drake-“what do you think has happened? My wife has fallen under this + gentleman's influence—the poor simpleton!—and not one hour + before I left my house she brought home a child which he had given her to + adopt. Think of it!—out of the shambles of Soho, and God knows whose + brat and bastard!” + </p> + <p> + The words were hardly out of the man's mouth when John Storm had taken him + by both shoulders. “God <i>does</i> know,” he said, “and so do I! Shall I + tell you whose child that is? Shall I? It's yours!” The man saw it coming + and turned white as a ghost. “Yours! and your wife has taken up the burden + of your sin and shame, for she's a good woman, and you are not fit to live + on the earth she walks upon!” + </p> + <p> + He left the two men speechless and went heavily down the stairs. Glory was + waiting for him at the door. Her eyes were glistening after recent tears. + </p> + <p> + “You will come no more?” she said. She could read him like a book. “I can + see that you intend to come no more.” + </p> + <p> + He did not deny it, and after a moment she opened the door and he passed + out with a look of utter weariness. Then she went back to her room and + flung herself on the bed, face downward. + </p> + <p> + The men in the drawing-room were beginning to recover themselves. Lord + Robert was humming a tune, Drake pacing to and fro. + </p> + <p> + “Buying up his church to make a theatre for Glory was the very refinement + of cruelty!” said Drake. “Good heavens! what possessed me?” + </p> + <p> + “Original sin, dear boy!” said Lord Robert, with a curl of the lip. + </p> + <p> + “Original? A bad plagiarism, you mean!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. If <i>I</i> helped you to do it, shall I help you to give it + up? Withdraw the prospectus and return the deposits on shares—the + dear Archdeacon's among the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Drake took up his hat and left the house. Lord Robert followed him + presently. Then the drawing-room was empty, and the hollow sound of + sobbing came down to it from the bedroom above. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Father Storm read prayers in church that night with a hard and absent + heart. A terrible impulse of hate had taken hold of him. He hated Drake, + he hated Glory, he hated himself most of all, and felt as if seven devils + had taken possession of him, and he was a hypocrite, and might fall dead + at the altar. + </p> + <p> + “But what a fate the Almighty has saved me from!” he thought. Glory would + have been a drag on his work for life. He must forget her. She was only + worthy of his contempt. Yet he could not help but remember how beautiful + she had looked in her mourning dress, with that pure pale face and its + signs of suffering! Or how charming she had seemed to him even in the + midst of all that deception! Or how she had held him as by a spell! + </p> + <p> + Going home he came upon a group of men in the Court. One of them planted + himself full in front and said with an insolent swagger: “Me and my mytes + thinks there's too many parsons abart 'ere. What do you think, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I think there are more gamblers and thieves, my lad,” he answered, and at + the next instant the man had struck him in the face. He closed with the + ruffian, grappled him by the throat, and flung him on his back. One moment + he held him there, writhing and gasping, then he said, “Get up, and get + off, and let me see no more of you!” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, not this time,” said a voice above his back. The crowd had + melted away and a policeman stood beside them. “I've been waiting for this + one for weeks, Father,” he said, and he marched the man to jail. + </p> + <p> + It was Charlie Wilkes. At the trial of Mrs. Jupe that morning, Aggie, + being a witness, had been required to mention his name. It was all in the + evening papers, and he had been dismissed from his time-keeping at the + foundry. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. + </h2> + <p> + A week passed. Breakfast was over at Victoria Square, and John Storm was + glancing at the pages of a weekly paper. “Listen!” he cried, and then read + aloud in a light tone of mock bravery which broke down at length into a + husky gurgle: + </p> + <p> + “'The sympathy which has lately been evoked by the announcement that a + proprietary church in Soho has been sold for secular uses, is creditable + to public sentiment——'” + </p> + <p> + “Think of that, now!” interrupted Mrs. Callender. + </p> + <p> + “'——and no doubt the whole community will agree to hope that + Father Storm will recover from the irritation natural to his eviction——'” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, we can all get over another body's disappointment, laddie.” + </p> + <p> + “'But there is a danger that in this instance the altruism of the time may + develop a sentimentality not entirely good for public morals——'” + </p> + <p> + “When the ox is down there are lots of butchers, ye ken!” + </p> + <p> + “'With the uses to which the fabric is to be converted, it is no part of + our purpose to deal, further than to warn the public not to lend an ear to + the all too prurient purity of the amateur moralist; but considering the + character of the work now carried on in Soho, no doubt with the best + intentions——'” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, it's easy to steal the goose and give the giblets in alms.” + </p> + <p> + “'——it behooves us to consider if the community is not to be + congratulated on its speedy and effectual ending. Father Storm is a young + man of some talents and social position, but without any special + experience or knowledge of the world—in fact a weak, oversanguine, + and rather foolish fanatic——'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, aye, he's down; down with him!” + </p> + <p> + “'——and therefore it is monstrous that he should be allowed to + subvert the order of social life or disturb the broad grounds of the + reasonable and the practical——'” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. High winds only blaw on high hills, laddie!” + </p> + <p> + “'——As for the “fallen sister” whom he has taken under his + special care, we confess to a feeling that too much sympathy has been + wasted on her already. Her feet take hold of hell, her house is the way of + the grave, going down to the chamber of death——'” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Callender leaped to her feet. “That's the 'deacon-man; I ken the + cloven hoof!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm had flung the paper away. “What a cowardly world it is!” he + said. “But God wins in the end, and by God he shall!” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, man! don't tak' on like that. You can't climb the Alps on + roller-skates, you see! But as for the Archdeacon, pooh! I'm no windy + aboot your 'Sisters' and 'Settlements' and sic like, but if there had been + society papers in the Lord's time, Simon the Pharisee would have been a + namby-pamby critic compared to some of them.” + </p> + <p> + A moment afterward she was looking out of the window and holding up both + hands. “My gracious! It's himsel'! It's the Prime Minister!” + </p> + <p> + A gaunt old gentleman with a meagre mustache, wearing a broad-brimmed hat + and unfashionable black clothes, was stepping up to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's my uncle!” said John, and the old lady fled out of the room to + change her cap. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard what has happened, John, so I have come to see you,” said + the Prime Minister. + </p> + <p> + Was he thinking of the money? John felt uneasy and ashamed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, my boy, very sorry!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “But it all comes, you see, of the ridiculous idea that we are a Christian + nation! Such a thing couldn't have occurred at the shrine of a pagan god!” + </p> + <p> + “It was only a proprietary church, uncle. I was much to blame.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not deny that you have acted unwisely, but what difference does that + make, my boy? To sell a church seems like the climax of irreverence; but + they are doing as bad every day. If you want to see what times the Church + has fallen on, look at the advertisements in your religious papers—your + Benefice and Church Patronage Gazette, and so forth. A traffic, John, a + slave traffic, worse than anything in Africa, where they sell bodies, not + souls!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a crime which cries to the avenging anger of Heaven,” said John; + “but it is the Establishment that is to blame, not the Church, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “We are a nation of money-lenders, my boy, and the Church is the worst + usurer of them all, with its learned divines in scarlet hoods, who hold + shares in music halls, and its Fathers in God living at ease and leasing + out public-houses. <i>You</i> have been lending money on usury too, and on + a bad security. What are you going to do now?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on with my work, uncle, and do two hours where I did one before.” + </p> + <p> + “And get yourself kicked where you got yourself kicked before!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? If God puts ten pounds on a man, he gives him strength to bear + twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “John, John, I am feeling rather sore, and I can't bear much more of it. + I'm growing old, and my life is rather lonely too. Except your father, you + are my only kinsman now, and it seems as if our old family must die with + you. But come, my boy, come, throw up all this sorry masquerade. Isn't + there a woman in the world who can help me to persuade you? I don't care + who she is, or what, or where she comes from.” + </p> + <p> + John had coloured to the eyes, and was stammering something about the true + priest cut off from earthly marriage, therefore free to commit himself + completely to his work, when Mrs. Callender came back, spruce and smart, + with many smiles and curtsies. The Prime Minister greeted her with the + same old-fashioned courtesy, and they cooed away like two old doves, until + a splendid equipage drove up to the door, and the plain old gentleman + drove away in it. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't he nice with me? wasn't he, now?” the old lady kept saying, and + John being silent—“Tut! you young men are just puir loblollyboys + with a leddy when the auld ones come.” + </p> + <p> + Going to Soho that day John Storm felt a sudden thrill at seeing on the + street in front of him, walking in the same direction, an elderly figure + in cassock and cord. It was the Father Superior of the Brotherhood. John + overtook him and greeted him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I was on my way to see you, my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have heard what has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Satan's shafts fly fast.” Then taking John's arm as they walked, + “Earthly blows are but reminders of Him, my son, like the hair shirt of + the monk, and this trouble of yours is God's reminder of your broken + obedience. What did I tell you when you left us—that you would come + back within a year? And you will! Leave the world, my son. It treats you + badly. The human spirit reigns over it, and even the Church is a Christian + society out of the sphere and guidance of the Divine Spirit. Leave it and + return to your unfinished vows.” + </p> + <p> + John shook his head and took the Father into the clergy-house, where the + girls were gathering for the evening. “How can I leave the world, Father, + when there's work like this to do? Society presents to a large proportion + of these bright creatures the alternative, 'Sell yourself or starve.' But + God says, 'Live, work, and love.' Therefore society is doomed, and that + dead man's sepulchre, the Establishment, is doomed, but the Church will + live, and become the corner-stone of the new order, and stand between + woman and the world, as it stood of old between the poor and the rich.” + </p> + <p> + The Father preached for John that night, taking for his text “The flesh + lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh.” And on + parting from him at the door of the sacristy he said: “Religious work can + only be good, my son, if it concerns itself first of all with the + salvation of souls. Now what if it pleased God to remove you from all this—to + call you to a work of intercession—say, to the mission field?” + </p> + <p> + John's face turned pale. “There can be no need to fly,” he said, with a + frightened look. “Surely London is a mission field wide enough for any + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet who knows? Perhaps for your own soul's sake, lest vanity should take + hold of you, or the love of fame, or—or any of the snares of Satan! + But good-bye, and God be with you!” + </p> + <p> + When John Storm reached home he found a letter awaiting him. It was from + Glory: + </p> + <p> + “Are you dead and buried? If so, send me word, that I may compose your + epitaph. 'Here lies—<i>Lies</i> is good, for though you didn't + promise to come back you ought to have done so; therefore it comes to the + same thing in the end. You must not think too ill of Mr. Drake. I call him + the milk of human kindness, and his friend Lord Robert the oil thereof—I + mean the oil of vitriol. But his temper is like the Caspian Sea, having + neither ebb nor flow, while yours is like the Bay of Biscay—oh, so I + can't expect you to agree. As for poor me, I may be guilty of all the + seven deadly sins, but I can't see why I should be boycotted on that + account. There is something I didn't know when you were here, and I want + to explain about it. Therefore come 'right away' (Lord Bob, Americanized). + Being slow to anger and plenteous in mercy, I will forgive you if you come + soon. If you don't, I'll—I'll go on the bike—feminine + equivalent to the drink. To tell you the truth, I've done so already, + having been careering round the gardens of the Inn during the early hours + of morning, clad in Rosa's 'bloomers,' in which I make a picture and a + sensation at the same time, she being several sizes larger round the hips, + and fearfully and wonderfully made. If that doesn't fetch you I'll go in + for boxing next, and in a pair of four-ounce gloves I'll cut a <i>striking</i> + figure, I can tell you. + </p> + <p> + “But, John Storm, have you cast me off entirely? Do you intend to abandon + me? Do you think there is no salvation left for me? And are you going to + let me sink in all this mire without stretching out a hand to help me? Oh, + dear! oh, dear! I don't know what has come over the silly old world since + I came back to London. Think it must be teething, judging by the sharpness + of its bite, and feel as if I should like to give it a dose of syrup of + squills.” + </p> + <p> + As John read the letter his eyelids quivered and his mouth relaxed. Then + he glanced at it again, and his face clouded. + </p> + <p> + “I can not leave her entirely to the mercy of men like these,” he thought. + </p> + <p> + This innocent daring, this babelike ripping up of serviceable conventions—God + knows what advantage such men might take of it. He must see her once + again, to warn, to counsel her. It was his duty—he must not shrink + from it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + It had been a day of painful impressions to Glory. Early in the morning + Lord Robert had called to take her to the “reading” of the new play. It + took place in the saloon of an unoccupied Strand theatre, of which the + stage also had been engaged for rehearsal. The company were gathered + there, and, being more or less experienced actors and actresses, they + received her with looks of courteous indulgence, as one whose leading + place must be due to other things than talent. This stung her; she felt + her position to be a false one, and was vexed that she had permitted Lord + Robert to call for her. But her humiliation had yet hardly begun. + </p> + <p> + While they stood waiting for the manager, who was late, a gorgeous person + with a waxed mustache and in a fur-lined coat, redolent of the mixed odour + of perfume and stale tobacco, forced his way up to her and offered his + card. She knew the man in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Josephs,” he said in a confidential undertone, “and if there's + anything I can do for you—acting management—anything—it + vill give me pleesure.” + </p> + <p> + Glory flushed up and said, “But you don't seem to remember, sir, that we + have met before.” + </p> + <p> + The man smiled blandly. “Oh, yes. I've kept track of you ever since and + know all about you. You hadn't made your appearance then, and naturally I + couldn't do much. But now—<i>now</i> if you vill give me de pleesure——” + </p> + <p> + “Then an agent is one who can do nothing for you when you want help, but + when you don't want it——” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed to carry off his audacity. “Veil, you know vhat they say + of us—agent from <i>agere</i>, 'to do,' and we're always 'doing.' Ha, + ha! But if you are villing to let bygones be bygones, I am, and velcome.” + </p> + <p> + Glory's face was crimson. “Will somebody go for the stage doorkeeper?” she + said, and one of the company went out on that errand. Then, raising her + voice so that everybody listened, she said: “Mr. Josephs, when I was quite + unknown, and trying to get on, and finding it very hard, as we all do, you + played me the cruellest trick a man ever played on a woman. I don't owe + you any grudge, but, for the sake of every poor girl who is struggling to + live in London, I am going to turn you out of the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Vhat?” + </p> + <p> + The stage doorkeeper had entered. “Porter, do you see this gentleman? He + is never to come into this theatre again as long as we are here, and if he + tries to force his way in you are to call a policeman and have him bundled + back into the street!” + </p> + <p> + “Daddle doo,” and the waxed mustache over the grinning mouth seemed to cut + the face across. + </p> + <p> + When Josephs had gone Glory could see that the looks of indulgence on the + faces of the company had gone also. “She'll do!” said one. “She's got the + stuff in her!” said another, but Glory herself was now quaking with fear, + and her troubles were not yet ended. + </p> + <p> + A little stout gentleman entered hurriedly with a roll of papers in his + hand. He stepped up to Lord Robert, apologized for being late, and mopped + his bald crown and red face. It was Sefton. + </p> + <p> + “This is to be our manager,” said Lord Robert, and Mr. Sefton bobbed his + head, winked with both eyes, and said, “Charmed, I'm sure—charmed!” + </p> + <p> + Glory could have sunk into the earth for shame, but in a moment she had + realized the crushing truth that when a woman has been insulted in the + deepest place—in her honour—the best she can do is to say + nothing about it. + </p> + <p> + The company seated themselves around the saloon, and the reading began. + First came the list of characters, with the names of the cast. Glory's + name and character came last, and her nerves throbbed with sudden pain + when the manager read, “and <i>Gloria</i>—Miss Glory Quayle.” + </p> + <p> + There was a confused murmur, and then the company composed themselves to + listen. It was Gloria's play. She was rather scandalous. After the first + act Glory thought it was going to be the story of Nell Gwynne in modern + life; after the second, of Lady Hamilton; and after the third, in which + the woman wrecks and ruins the first man in the country, she knew it was + only another version of the Harlot's Progress, and must end as that had + ended. + </p> + <p> + The actors were watching their own parts, and pointing and punctuating + with significant looks the places where the chances came, but Glory was + overwhelmed with confusion. How was she to play this evil woman? The + poison went to the bone, and to get into the skin of such a creature a + good woman would have to dispossess herself of her very soul. The reading + ended, every member of the company congratulated some other member on the + other's opportunities, and Sefton came up to Glory to ask if she did not + find the play strong and the part magnificent. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said; “but only a bad woman could play that part properly.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>You'll</i> do it, my dear, you'll do it on your own!” he answered + gaily, and she went home perplexed, depressed, beaten down, and ashamed. + </p> + <p> + A newspaper had been left at the door. It was a second-rate theatrical + journal, still damp from the press. The handwriting on the wrapper was + that of Josephs, and there was a paragraph marked in blue pencil. It + pretended to be a record of her short career, and everything was in it—the + programme selling, the dressing, the foreign clubs—all the refuse of + her former existence, set in a sinister light and leaving the impression + of an abject up-bringing, as of one who had been <i>in</i> the streets if + not on them. + </p> + <p> + Well, she had chosen her life and must take it at its own price. But, oh, + the cruelty of the world to a woman, when her very success could be her + shame! She felt that the past had gripped her again—the pitiless + past—she could never drag herself out of the mire. + </p> + <p> + That night she wrote to John Storm, and next morning before Rosa had risen—her + duties kept her up late—she heard a voice downstairs. Her dog also + heard it and began to bark. At the next moment John was in the room and + she was laughing up into his splendid black eyes, for he had caught her + down at the sofa holding the pug's nose and trying to listen. + </p> + <p> + “Is it you? It's so good of you to come early! But this, dog”—breaking + into the Manx dialect—“she's ter'ble, just ter'ble!” Then rising and + looking serious: “I wished to tell you that I knew nothing about the + church, nothing whatever. If I'd had the least idea... but they told me + nothing—it was very wrong—nothing. And the first thing I knew + was when I saw it in all the newspapers.” + </p> + <p> + He was leaning on the end of the mantelpiece. “If they deceived you like + that, how can you go on with them?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean” (she was leaning on the other end, and speaking falteringly), + “you mean that I ought to give it all up. But it's too late for that now. + It was too late when I came to know. Besides, it would do no good; you + would be in the same position still, and as for me—well, somebody + else would have the theatre, so where's the use?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of the future, Glory, not the past. People who deceive us + once are capable of doing so again.” + </p> + <p> + “True—that's true—only—only——” + </p> + <p> + She was breaking down, and he turned his eyes away from her, saying, + “Well, it's all over now, and there's no help for it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, there's no help for it.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to think what he had come to say, but do what he would he could + not remember. The moment he looked at her the thread of his thoughts was + lost, and the fragrance of her presence, so sweet, so close, made him feel + as if he wanted to touch her. There was an awkward silence, and then he + fidgeted with his hat and moved. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going so soon?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm busy, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you must be busy now.” + </p> + <p> + “And then why—why should we prolong a painful interview, Glory?” + </p> + <p> + She shot up a look under her eyebrows. His eyes had a harassed expression, + but there was a gleam in them that set her heart beating. + </p> + <p> + “Is it so painful? Is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Glory, I meant to tell you I could not come again.” + </p> + <p> + “No! You're not so busy as all that, are you? Surely” (the Manx again, + only she seemed to be breathless now)—“surely you're not so ter'ble + busy but you can just put a sight on a girl now and again for all?” + </p> + <p> + He made a gesture with his hand. “It disturbs, it distracts——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that all? Then,” with a forced laugh, “I'll come to see you + instead. Yes, I will, though.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you mustn't do that, Glory. It would only torment——” + </p> + <p> + “Torment! Gough bless me! Why torment?” and a fugitive flame shot up at + him. + </p> + <p> + “Because”—he stammered, and she could see that his lips quivered; + then calmly, very calmly, pronouncing the words slowly, and in a voice as + cold as ice—“because I love you!” + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you know that?” His voice was guttural. “Haven't you known it all + along? What's the use of pretending? You've dragged it out of me. Was that + only to show your power over me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + She had heard what her heart wanted to hear, and not for worlds would she + have missed hearing it, yet she was afraid, and trembling all over. + </p> + <p> + “We two are of different natures, Glory, that's the trouble between us—now, + and always has been. We have nothing in common, absolutely nothing. You + have chosen your path in life, and it is not my path. I have chosen mine, + and it is not yours. Your friends are not my friends. We are two different + beings altogether, and yet—and yet I love you! And that's why I can + not come again.” + </p> + <p> + It was sweet, but it was terrible. So different from what she had dreamed + of: “I love you!—you are my soul!—I can not live without you!” + Yet he was right. She had slain his love before it was born to her—it + was born dead. In an unsteady voice, which had suddenly become husky, she + said: + </p> + <p> + “No doubt you are right. I must leave you to judge. Perhaps you have + thought it all out.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't suppose it will be easy for me, Glory. I've suffered a good deal, + and I dare say I shall suffer more yet. If so, I'll bear it. But for the + sake of my work——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!—But of course I can't expect—Naturally you love your work + also——” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>do</i> love my work also, and therefore it's no use trifling. 'If + thine eye offend—'” + </p> + <p> + She was stung. “Well, since there's no help for it, I suppose we must + shake hands and part.” + </p> + <p> + Not until then—not until he had pronounced his doom and she had + accepted it did he realize how beautiful she seemed to him. He felt as if + something in his throat wanted to cry out. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't what I expected, Glory—what I dreamed of for years.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's best—it seems best.” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to make a place for you, too, but you wouldn't have it—you + let it go; you preferred this other lot in life.” + </p> + <p> + She remembered Josephs, and Sefton, and the newspaper, and the part, and + she covered her face with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “How can I go on, Glory, to the peril of my—It's dangerous, even + dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are a clergyman and I am an actress. You must think of that. + People are so ignorant, so cruel, and I dare say they are talking + already.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I should care for that, Glory?” Her hands came down from her + face. “Do you think I should care one jot if all the miserable + scandal-mongering world thought——” + </p> + <p> + “You'll think the best of me, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll think of both of us as we used to be, my child, before the world + came between us, before you——” + </p> + <p> + She was fighting against an impulse to fling herself into his arms, but + she only said in a soft voice: “You are quite right, quite justified. I + have chosen my lot in life, and must make the best of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well——” He was holding out his hand. + </p> + <p> + But nevertheless she put her hand behind her, thinking: “No; if I shake + hands with him it will be the end of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye!” and with an expression of utter despair he left her. + </p> + <p> + She did not cry, and when Rosa came down immediately afterward she was + smiling and her eyes were very bright. + </p> + <p> + “Was that your friend Mr. Storm? Yes? You must beware of him, my dear. He + would stop your career and think he was doing God's service.” + </p> + <p> + “There's no danger of that, Rosa. He only came to say he would come no + more,” and then something flashed in her eyes and died away, and then + flashed again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” thought Rosa, “there's an extraordinary attraction about her that + makes all other women seem tame.” And then Rosa remembered somebody else, + and sighed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + John Storm went back to Soho by way of Clare Market, and when people + saluted him in the streets with “Good-morning, Father,” he did not answer + because he did not see them. On going to church that night he came upon a + group of Charlie's cronies betting six to one against his getting off, and + a girl in gay clothes was waiting to speak to him. It was Aggie. She had + come to plead for Charlie. + </p> + <p> + “It's the drink, sir. 'E's a good boy when 'e's not drinking. But I ask + pardon for 'im; and if you would only not prosecute——” + </p> + <p> + John was ashamed of himself at sight of the girl's fidelity to her + unworthy lover. + </p> + <p> + “And you, my child—what about you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm all right. What's broken can't be mended.” + </p> + <p> + And meanwhile the church bells were ringing and the cabs were running to + the theatres. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. + </h2> + <p> + The rehearsals began early in the morning and usually lasted until late in + the afternoon. Glory found them wearisome, depressing, and often + humiliating. The body of the theatre was below the level of the street, + and in the daytime was little better than a vast vault. If she entered by + the front she stumbled against seats and saw the figures of men and women + silhouetted in the distance, and heard the echo of cavernous voices. If by + the back, she came upon the prompter's table set midway across the stage, + with a twin gas-bracket shooting up behind it like a geyser, and an open + space of some twenty feet by twenty in front whereon the imaginary + passions were to disport themselves at play. + </p> + <p> + Glory found real ones among them, and they were sometimes in hideous + earnest. Jealousy, envy, uncharitableness, and all the rancour of life + where the struggle for it is bitterest, attempts to take advantage of her + inexperience, to rob her of the best positions on the stage, to cut out + her lines which “scored”—these, with the weary waits, the half + darkness, the chill atmosphere, the void in front, with its seats in linen + covers, suggesting an audience of silent ghosts, and then the sense of the + bright, busy, bustling, rattling, real world above, sent her home day + after day with a headache, a heartache, and tears bubbling out of her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + And when she had conquered these conditions, or settled down to them, and + had made such progress with her part as to throw away her scrip, the old + horror of the woman she was to make herself into, came back as a new + terror. The visionary Gloria was very proud and vain and selfish, and + trampled everything under foot that she might possess the world and the + things of the world. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the real Gloria had a far different part to play. Every morning, + with a terrible reality at her heart, she glanced over the newspapers for + news of John Storm. She had not far to look. A sort of grotesque romance + had gathered about him, as of a modern Don Quixote tilting at windmills. + His name was the point of a pun; there were cartoons, caricatures, and all + other forms of the joke that is not a joke because it is an insult. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she took stolen glances at his work. On Sunday morning she + walked through Soho, past the people sitting on their doorsteps reading + the sporting intelligence in the Sunday papers, with their larks in cages + hung on nails, overhead, until she came to the church, and heard the + singing inside, and saw chalked up on the walls the legend, “God bless the + Farver!” + </p> + <p> + “Strange charge against a clergyman!” It was a low-class paper, and the + charge was a badge of honour. A young ruffian (it was Charles Wilkes) had + been brought up on remand on a charge of assaulting Father Storm, and + being sentenced to a week's imprisonment, notwithstanding the Father's + appeal and offer of bail, he had accused the clergyman of relations with + his sweetheart (it was Agatha Jones). + </p> + <p> + Glory's anger at the world's treatment of John Storm deepened to a great + love of the misunderstood and downtrodden man. She saw an announcement of + his last service, and determined to go to it. The church was crowded, + chiefly by the poor, and the air was heavy with the smell of oranges and + beer. It was a week-day evening, and when the choir came in, followed by + John Storm in his black cassock, Glory could not help a thrill of physical + joy at being near him. + </p> + <p> + The text was, “Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are + like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outside, but + are within full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness!” The first half + of the, sermon was a denunciation of the morality of men. We made clean + the outside of the platter, but the so-called purity of England was a smug + sham built upon rottenness and sin! There were men among us, damned + sensualists, left untouched by the idleness of the public conscience, who + did not even know where their children were to be found. Let them go down + into the gutters of life and look for their own faces, and—God + forgive them!—their mothers' faces, among the outcast and the + criminal. The second half was a defence of woman. The sins of the world + against women were the most crying wrongs of the time. Had they ever + reflected on the heroism of women, on their self-denying, unrewarded + labour? Oh, why was woman held so cheap as in this immoral London of + to-day? There had been scarcely a breach of the law of Nature by women, + and not one that men were not chiefly to blame for. Men tempted them by + love of dress, of ease, of money, and of fame, to forget their proper + vocation; but every true woman came right in the end, and preferred to the + false and fictitious labour for worldly glory, a mother's silent and + unseen devotion, counting it no virtue at all. “Yes, women, mothers, + girls, in your hands lies the salvation of England. May you live in this + prospect, and may God and his ever-blessed Mother be your reward all + through this weary life and in glory everlasting!” + </p> + <p> + There was a procession with banners, cross, stars, green and blue + fleur-de-lis, but Glory saw none of it. She was kneeling with her head + down and heart choked with emotion. The next she knew the service was + over, the congregation was gone; only one old woman in widow's weeds was + left, jingling a bunch of keys. + </p> + <p> + “Has the Father gone?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am; he is still in the sacristy.” + </p> + <p> + “Show me to it.” + </p> + <p> + At the next moment, with fluttering throat and a look of mingled love and + awe, she was standing eye to eye with John Storm in the little bare + chamber off the church. + </p> + <p> + “Glory, why do you come here?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it.” + </p> + <p> + “But we said good-bye and parted.” + </p> + <p> + “You did. I didn't. It was not so easy——” + </p> + <p> + “Easy? I told you it wouldn't be easy, my child, and it hasn't been. I + said I should suffer, and I have suffered. But I've borne it—you see + I've borne it. Don't ask me at what cost.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh, oh!” and she covered her face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the devil tortured me with love first. I was seeing you and hearing + you everywhere and in everything, Glory. But I got over that, and then he + tortured me with remorse. I had left you to the mercy of the world. It was + my duty to watch over you. I did it, too.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced up quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you never knew that, but no matter! It's all over now, and I'm a + different man entirely. But why do you come and torment me again? It's + nothing to you, nothing at all. You can shake it off in a moment. That's + your nature, Glory; you can't help it. But have you no pity? You find me + here, trying to help the helpless—the brave girls who have the + virtue to be poor, and the strength to be weak, and the courage to be + friendless. Why can't you leave me alone? What am I to you? Nothing at + all! You care nothing for me—nothing whatever.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced up again, and the look of love in her eyes was stronger now + than the look of awe. He saw it and could not help knowing how strongly it + worked upon his feelings. + </p> + <p> + “Go back to your own world, unhappy girl! You love it—you must; you + have sacrificed the best impulses of your heart to it!” + </p> + <p> + She was smiling now. It was the old radiant smile, but with a gleam of + triumph in it that he had never seen before. It worked like madness upon + him, and he tried to insult her again. + </p> + <p> + “Go back to your own company, to the people who <i>play</i> at real life, + and build toy houses, and give themselves away body and soul for the + clapping of hands in a theatre! Go back to the lies and hypocrisies of + society, and the brainless, mashers who adorn it! They dance superbly, and + are at home in drawing-rooms, and know all about sporting matters and + theatrical affairs! I know none of these things, and I am kicked and + cuffed and ridiculed and hounded down as an indecent man or shunned as a + moral leper I Why do you come to me?” he cried, hoarse and husky. + </p> + <p> + But she only stretched out her hands to him and said, “Because I love + you!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying?” He was quivering with pain. + </p> + <p> + “I love you, and have always loved you, and you love me—you know you + do—you love me still!” + </p> + <p> + “Glory!” + </p> + <p> + “John!” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake! Glory!” + </p> + <p> + With a wild shout of joy he rushed upon her, flung his arms about her, and + covered her face and hands with kisses. After a moment he whispered, “Not + here, not here!” and she felt too that the room was suffocating them, and + they must go out into the open air, the fields, the park. + </p> + <p> + Somebody was knocking at the door. It was Mrs. Pincher. A man was waiting + to speak to the Father. They found him in the lane. It was Jupe, the + waiter. His simple face wore a strange expression of joy and fear, as if + he wished to smile and dare not. + </p> + <p> + “My pore missis 'as got off and wants to come 'ome, sir, and I thought as + you'd tell me what I oughter do.” + </p> + <p> + “Take her back and forgive her, my man, that's the Christian course.” + </p> + <p> + His love was now boundless; his large charity embraced everything, and + going off he saluted everybody. “Good-evening, Mrs. Pincher.—Good-night, + Lydia.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, 'e <i>is</i> a Father, too, and no mistake!” somebody was saying + behind him as he went away with Glory. + </p> + <p> + The moon was at the full, and while they were passing through the streets + it struggled with the gas from the shop windows as the flame of a fire + struggles with the sunshine, but when they passed under the trees it shone + out in its white splendour like a bride. The immeasurable vault above was + silvered with stars, too, through depth on depth of space, and all the + glorious earth and heaven seemed to smile the smile of love. A strong + south breeze was blowing, and as it shook the trees of the park, that + blessed patch of Nature in the midst-of the toiling city seemed to sing + the song of love! + </p> + <p> + Their hands found each other and they walked along almost in silence, + afraid to break the spell of their dream lest they should awake and find + it gone. It seemed wonderful to him that they were together, and he could + hardly believe it was reality, though the touch of her hand filled him + with a strange physical exultation which he had never felt before. He + seemed to be walking on the clouds, and she too was swaying by his side as + if her blood was dancing. Sometimes she dried her glistening eyes, and + once she stopped and swung in front of him and looked long at him and then + raised her face to his and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “Whether you like it or not your life is bound up with mine for ever and + ever!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “It had to be,” he answered. “I know it now. I can no longer deceive + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “And we shall be happy? In spite of all you said we shall be very happy, + eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that will be quite forgotten, Glory.” + </p> + <p> + “And forgiven,” she said, and then between a sigh and a blush she asked + him to kiss her again. + </p> + <p> + “My love!” + </p> + <p> + “My soul!” + </p> + <p> + The wind swept the hood of her cape about her head and he could smell the + fragrance of her hair. + </p> + <p> + He tried to think what he had done to deserve such happiness, but all the + suffering he had gone through seemed as nothing compared to a joy like + this. The great clock of Westminster swung its hollow sounds into the air, + which went riding by on the wind like the notes of an organ, now full and + now as soft as a baby's whisper. They could hear the far-off rumble of the + vast city which fringed their blessed island like a mighty sea, and + through the pulse of their clasped hands it seemed as if they felt the + pulse of the world. An angel had come down and breathed on the face of the + waters, and it was God's world, after all. + </p> + <p> + He took her home, and they parted at the door. “Don't come in to-night,” + she whispered. She wished to be alone, that she might think it all out and + go over it again, every word, every look. There was a lingering hand-clasp + and then she was gone. + </p> + <p> + He returned through the park and tried to step over the very places where + her feet had trod. On reaching Buckingham Gate he turned back and walked + round the park, and again round it, and yet again. The bells tolled out + the hours, the cabs went westward with ladies in evening wraps going home + from theatres, the tide of traffic ebbed farther and farther and died + down, but still he walked and the wind sang to him. + </p> + <p> + “God can not blame us,” he thought. “We were made to love each other.” He + uncovered his head to let the wind comb through his hair, and he was + happy, happy, happy! Sometimes he shut his eyes, and then it was hard to + believe that she was not walking by his side, a fragrant presence in the + moonlight, going step by step with him. + </p> + <p> + When the day was near the wind had gone, the little world of wood was + silent, and his footsteps crunched on the gravel. Then a yellow gleam came + in the sky to the east, and a chill gust swept up as a scout before the + dawn, the trees began to shiver, the surface of the lake to creep, the + birds to call, and the world to stretch itself and yawn. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Peace in her chamber, wheresoe'er + It be—a holy place. +</pre> + <p> + As he went home by Birdcage Walk the park was still heavy with sleep, and + its homeless wanderers had not yet risen from their couches on the seats. + A pale mist was lying over London, but the towers of the Abbey stood clear + above it, and pigeons were wheeling around them like sea-fowl about rocks + in the sea. What a night it had been! A night of dreams, of love, of + rapture! + </p> + <p> + The streets were empty and very quiet—only the slow rattle of the + dust-cart and the measured step of policemen changing beats. Long blue + vistas and a cemetery silence as of a world under the great hand of the + gentle brother of Death, and then the clang of Big Ben striking six. + </p> + <p> + A letter was waiting for John in the breathless hall. It was from the + Bishop of London: “Come and see me at St. James's Square.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. + </h2> + <p> + Suddenly there sprang out to Glory the charm and fascination of the life + she was putting away. Trying to be true to her altered relations with John + Storm, she did not go to rehearsal the next morning—, but not yet + having the courage of her new position, she did not tell Rosa her true + reason for staying away. The part was exhausting—it tried her very + much; a little break would do no harm. Rosa wrote to apologize for her on + the score of health, and thus the first cloud of dissimulation rose up + between them. + </p> + <p> + Two days passed, and then a letter came from the manager: “Trust you are + rested and will soon be back. The prompter read your lines, but everything + has gone to pieces. Slack, slovenly, spiritless, stupid, nobody acting, + and nobody awake, it seems to me. 'All right at night, governor,' and the + usual nonsense. Shows how much we want you. But envious people are + whispering that you are afraid of the part. The blockheads! If you succeed + this time you'll be made for life, my dear. And you <i>will</i> succeed! + Yours merrily,” etc. + </p> + <p> + With this were three letters addressed to the theatre. One of them was + from a press-cutting agency asking to be allowed to supply all newspaper + articles relating to herself, and inclosing a paragraph as a specimen: “A + little bird whispers that 'Gloria,' as 'Gloria,' is to be a startling + surprise. Those who have seen her rehearse——But mum's the word—an' + we could an' we would,” etc. Another of the letters was from the art + editor of an illustrated weekly asking for a sitting to their photographer + for a full-page picture; and the third inclosed the card of an interviewer + on an evening paper. Only three days ago Glory would have counted all this + as nothing, yet now she could not help but feel a thrilling, joyous + excitement. + </p> + <p> + Drake called after the absence of a fortnight. He had come to speak of his + last visit. His face was pale and serious, not fresh and radiant as usual, + his voice was shaking and his manner nervous. Glory had never seen him + exhibit so much emotion, and Rosa looked on in dumb astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “I was to blame,” he said, “and I have come to say so. It was a cowardly + thing to turn the man out of his church, and it was worse than cowardly to + use you in doing it. Everything is fair, they say, in——” But + he flushed up like a girl and stopped, and then faltered: “Anyhow, I'm + sorry—very sorry; and if there is anything I can do——” + </p> + <p> + Glory tried to answer him, but her heart was beating violently, and she + could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “In fact, I've tried to make amends already. Lord Robert has a living + vacant in Westminster, and I've asked him to hand it over to the Bishop, + with the request that Father Storm——” + </p> + <p> + “But will he?” + </p> + <p> + “I've told him he must. It's the least we can do if we are to have any + respect for ourselves. And anyhow, I'm about tired of this anti-Storm + uproar. It may be all very well far men like me to object to the man—I + deny his authorities, and think him a man out of his century and country—but + for these people with initials, who write in the religious papers, to rail + at him, these shepherds who live on five thousand a year and pretend to + follow One who hadn't a home or a second coat, and whose friends were + harlots and sinners, though he was no sinner himself—it's infamous, + it's atrocious, it raises my gorge against their dead creeds and paralytic + churches. Whatever his faults, he is built on a large plan, he has the + Christ idea, and he is a man and a gentleman, and I'm ashamed that I took + advantage of him. That's all over now, and there's no help for it; but if + I might hope that you will forgive—and forget——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Glory in a low voice, and then there was silence, and when she + lifted her head Drake was gone and Rosa was wiping her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It was all for love of you, Glory. A woman can't hate a man when he does + wrong for love of herself.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm came in later the same day, when Rosa had gone out and Glory + was alone. He was a different man entirely. His face looked round and his + dark eyes sparkled. The clouds of his soul seemed to have drifted away, + and he was boiling over with enthusiasm. He laughed constantly, and there + was something almost depressing in the lumbering attempts at humour of the + serious man. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think has happened? The Bishop sent for me and offered me a + living in Westminster. It turns out to being the gift of Lord Robert Ure; + but no thanks to him for it. Lady Robert was at the bottom of everything. + She had called on the Bishop. He remembered me at the Brotherhood, and + told me all about it. St. Jude's, Brown's Square, on the edge of the worst + quarter in Christendom! It seems the Archdeacon expected it for Golightly, + his son-in-law. The Reverend Joshua called on me this morning and tried to + bully me, but I soon bundled him off to Botany Bay. Said the living had + been promised to him—a lie, of course. I soon found that out. A lie + is well named, you know—it hasn't a leg—to stand upon. Ha, ha, + ha!” + </p> + <p> + Nothing would serve but that they should go to look at the scene of their + future life, and with Don—he had brought his dog; it had to be held + back from the pug under the table—they set off immediately. It was + Saturday night, and as they dipped down into the slums that lie under the + shadow of the Abbey, Old Pye Street, Peter's Street, and Duck Lane were + aflare with the coarse lights of open naphtha lamps, and all but + impassable with costers' barrows. There were the husky voices of the + street hawkers, the hoarse laughter, the quarrelling, the oaths, the + rasping shouts of the butcher selling chunks of dark joints by auction, + the screeches of the roast-potato man, and the smell of stale vegetables + and fried fish. “Jow, 'ow much a pound for yer turmaters?” “Three pence; I + gave mor'n that for 'em myself.” “Garn!” “S'elp me, Gawd, I did, mum!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it a glorious scene?” said John; and Glory, who felt chilled and + sickened, recalled herself from some dream of different things altogether + and said, “Isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Sanctuary, too! What human cats we are! The poor sinners cling to the + place still!” + </p> + <p> + He took her into the alleys and courts that score and wrinkle the map of + Westminster like an old man's face, and showed her the “model” + lodging-houses and the gaudily decorated hells where young girls and + soldiers danced and drank. + </p> + <p> + “What's the use of saying to these people, 'Don't drink; don't steal'? + They'll answer, 'If you lived in these slums you would drink too.' But + we'll show them that we can live here and do neither—that will be + the true preaching.” + </p> + <p> + And then he pictured a life of absolute self-sacrifice, which she was to + share with him. “You'll manage all money matters, Glory. You can't think + how I'm swindled. And then I'm such a donkey as far as money goes—that's + not far with me, you know. Ha, ha, ha! Who's to find it? Ah, God pays his + own debts. He'll see to that.” + </p> + <p> + They were to live under the church itself; to give bread to the hungry and + clothes to the naked; to set up their Settlement in the gaming-house of + the Sharkeys, now deserted and shut up; to take in the <i>un</i>deserving + poor-the people who had nothing to say for themselves, precisely those; + and thus they were to show that they belonged neither to the publicans and + sinners nor to the Scribes and Pharisees. + </p> + <p> + “Only let us get rid of self. Only let us show that self-interest never + enters our head in one single thing we do——” and meantime + Glory, who had turned her head aside with a lump in her throat, heard some + one behind them saying: + </p> + <p> + “Lawd, Jow, that's the curick and his dorg—'im as got pore Sharkey + took! See—'im with the laidy?” + </p> + <p> + “S'elp me, so it is! Another good man gorn to 'is gruel, and all 'long of + a bloomin' dorg.” + </p> + <p> + They walked round by the church. John was talking—rapturously at + every step, and Glory was dragging after him like a criminal going to the + pillory. At last they came out by Great Smith Street, and he cried: “See, + there's the house of God under its spider's web of scaffolding, and here's + the Broad Sanctuary—broad enough in all conscience! Look!” + </p> + <p> + A crowd of girls and men were trooping out of a place of entertainment + opposite, and there were screams and curses. “Look at 'im!” cried a + woman's voice. “There 'e is, the swine! And 'e was the ruin of me; and now + 'e's 'listed for a soldier and going off with another woman!” + </p> + <p> + “You're bleedin' drunk, that's what you are!” said a man's voice, “and if + you down't take kear I'll send ye 'ome on a dawer!” + </p> + <p> + “Strike me, will ye, ye dog? Do it! I dare you!” + </p> + <p> + “She ain't worth it, soldier—come along,” said another female voice, + whereupon the first broke into a hurricane of oaths; and a little + clergyman going by at the moment—it was the Rev. J. Golightly—said: + “Dear, dear! Are there no policemen about?” and so passed on, with his + tall wife tucked under his arm. + </p> + <p> + John Storm pressed through the crowd and came between the two who were + quarrelling. By the light of the lamp he could see them. The man was + Charlie Wilkes, in the uniform of a soldier; the woman, with the paint + running on her face, her fringe disordered, and her back hair torn down, + was Aggie Jones. + </p> + <p> + “We down't want no religion 'ere,” said Charlie, sneering. + </p> + <p> + “You'll get some, though, if you're not off quick!” said John. The man + looked round for the dog and a moment afterward he had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Glory came up behind. “O Aggie, woman, is it you?” she said, and then the + girl began to cry in a drunken sob. + </p> + <p> + “Girls is cruel put upon, mum,” said one of the women; and another cried, + “Nix, the slops!” and a policeman came pushing his way and saying: “Now, + then, move on! We ain't going to stand 'ere all night.” + </p> + <p> + “Call a cab, officer,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Yes sir—certainly, Father. Four-wheel-er!” + </p> + <p> + “Where do you live, Aggie?” said Glory; but the girl, now sobbing drunk, + was too far gone to follow her. + </p> + <p> + “She lives in Brown's Square, sir,” said the woman who had spoken before, + and when the cab came up she was asked to get in with the other three. + </p> + <p> + It was a tenement house, fronting to one facade of St. Jude's, and Aggie's + room was on the second story. She was helpless, and John carried her up + the stairs. The place was in hideous disorder, with clothing lying about + on chairs, underclothing scattered on the floor, the fire out, many + cigarette ends in the fender, a candle stuck in a beer bottle, and a bunch + of withered roses on the table. + </p> + <p> + As John laid the girl on the bed she muttered, “Lemme alone!” and when he + asked what was to happen to her when she grew old if she behaved like this + when young, she mumbled: “Don't want to be old. Who's goin' to like me + then, d'ye think?” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour afterward Glory and John were passing through the gates into + Clement's Inn, with its moonlight and silence, its odour of moistened + grass, its glimpse of the stars, and the red and white blinds of its + windows lit up round about. John was still talking rapturously. He was now + picturing the part which Glory was to play in the life they were to live + together. She was to help and protect their younger sisters, the + child-women, the girls in peril, to enlist their loyalty and filial + tenderness for the hour of temptation. + </p> + <p> + “Won't it be glorious? To live the life, the real life of warfare with the + world's wickedness and woe! Won't it be magnificent? You'll do it too! + You'll go down into those slums and sloughs which I've shown you to-night—they + are the cradle of shame and sin, Glory, and this wicked London rocks it!—you'll + go down into them like a ministering angel to raise the fallen and heal + the wounded! You'll live in them, revel in them, rejoice in them, they'll + be your battlefield. Isn't that better, far better, a thousand times + better, than <i>playing</i> at life, and all its fashions and follies and + frivolities?” + </p> + <p> + Glory struggled to acquiesce, and from time to time in a trembling voice + she said “Yes,” and “Oh, yes,” until they came to the door of the Garden + House, and then a strange thing happened. Somebody was singing in the + drawing-room to the music of the piano. It was Drake. The window was open + and his voice floated over the moonlit gardens; + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Du liebes Kind, komm' geh mit mir! + Gar schöne Spiele spiel' ich mit dir. +</pre> + <p> + Suddenly it seemed to Glory that two women sprang into life in her—one + who loved John Storm and wished to live and work beside him, the other who + loved the world and felt that she could never give it up. And these two + women were fighting for her heart, which should have it and hold it and + possess it forever. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at John, and he was smiling triumphantly, “Are you happy?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Happy! I know a hundred men who are a hundred times as rich as I, but not + one who is a hundredth part as happy!” + </p> + <p> + “Darling!” she whispered, holding back her tears. Then looking away from + him she said, “And do you really think I'm good enough for a life of such + devotion and self-sacrifice?” + </p> + <p> + “Good enough!” he cried, and for a moment his merry laughter drowned the + singing overhead. + </p> + <p> + “But will the world think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly. But who cares what the world thinks?” + </p> + <p> + “We do, dear—we must!” + </p> + <p> + And then, while the song went on, she began to depreciate herself in a low + voice and with a creeping sense of hypocrisy—to talk of her former + life in London as a danger, of the tobacco-shop, the foreign clubs, the + music hall, and all the mire and slime with which she had been besmirched. + “Everything is known now, dear. Have you never thought of this? It is your + duty to think of it.” + </p> + <p> + But he only laughed again with a joyous voice. “What's the odds?” he said. + “The world is made up for the most part of low, selfish, sensual beings, + incapable of belief in noble aims. Every innovator in such a world exposes + himself to the risk of being slandered or ridiculed, or even shut up in a + lunatic asylum. But who wouldn't rather be St. Theresa in her cell than + Catharine of Russia on her throne? And in your case, what does it come to + anyway? Only that you've gone through the fiery furnace and come out + unscathed. All the better—you'll be a living witness, a proof that + it is possible to pass through this wicked Babylon unharmed and + untouched.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if I were a man—but with a woman it is so different! It is an + honour to a man to have conquered the world, but a disgrace to a woman to + have fought with it. Yes, believe me, I know what I'm saying. That's the + cruel tragedy in a woman's life, do what you will to hide it. And then you + are so much in the eye of the world; and besides your own position there + is your family's, your uncle's. Think what it would be if the world + pointed the finger of scorn at your—at your mission—at your + high and noble aims—and all on account of me! You would cease to + love me-and I—I——” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” He had been shuffling restlessly on the pavement before her. + “Here I stand! Here are you! Let the waves of public opinion dash + themselves against us—we stand or fall together!” “Oh, oh, oh!” + </p> + <p> + She was crying on his breast, but with what mixed and conflicting + feelings! Joy, pain, delight, dread, hope, disappointment. She had tried + to dishonour herself in his eyes, and it would have broken her heart if + she had succeeded. But she had failed and he had triumphed, and that was + harder still to bear. + </p> + <p> + From overhead they heard the last lines of the song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Erreicht den Hof mit Müh und Noth + In seinen Armen das Kind war todt. +</pre> + <p> + “Good-night,” she whispered, and fled into the house. The lights in the + dining-room were lowered, but she found a telegram that was waiting on the + mantelpiece. It was from Sefton, the manager: “Author arrived in London + today. Hopes to be at rehearsal Monday. Please be there certain.” + </p> + <p> + The world was seizing her again, the imaginary Gloria was dragging her + back with visions of splendour and success. But she crept upstairs and + went by the drawing-room on tip-toe. “Not to-night,” she thought. “My face + is not fit to be seen to-night.” + </p> + <p> + There was a dying fire in her bedroom, and her evening gown had been laid + out on a chair in front of it. She put the gown away in a drawer, and out + of a box which she drew from beneath the bed she took a far different + costume. It was the nurse's outdoor cloak, which she had bought for use at + the hospital. She held it a moment by the tips of her fingers and looked + at it, and then put it back with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Gloria! is that you?” Rosa called up the stairs; and Drake's cheery voice + cried, “Won't our nightingale come down and give us a stave before I go?” + </p> + <p> + “Too late! Just going to bed. Good-night,” she answered. Then she lit a + candle and sat down to write a letter. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, dear John, I can not! It would be like putting bad money + into the offertory to put me into that holy work. Not that I don't admire + it, and love it, and worship it. It is the greatest work in the world, and + last week I thought I could count everything else as dross, only + remembering that I loved you and that nothing else mattered. But now I + know that this was a vain and fleeting sentiment, and that the sights and + scenes of your work repel me on a nearer view, just as the hospital + repelled me in the early mornings when the wards were being cleaned and + the wounds dressed, and before the flowers were laid about. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, forgive me, forgive me! But if I am fit to join your life at all it + can not be in London. That 'old serpent called the devil and Satan' would + be certain to torment me here. I could not live within sight and sound of + London and go on with the life you live. London would drag me back. I feel + as if it were an earlier lover, and I must fly away from it. Is that + possible? Can we go elsewhere? It is a monstrous demand, I know. Say you + can not agree to it. Say so at once—it will serve me right.” + </p> + <p> + The stout watchman of the New Inn was calling midnight when Glory stole + out to post her letter. It fell into the letter-box with a thud, and she + crept back like a guilty thing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. + </h2> + <p> + Next morning Mrs. Callender heard John Storm singing to himself before he + left his bedroom, and she was standing at the bottom of the stairs when he + came down three steps at a time. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, laddie,” she said, “to see your face shining a body would say + that somebody had left ye a legacy or bought ye a benefice instead of + taking your church frae ye!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, and better than both, and that's just what I was going to tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + “You must be in a hurry to do it, too, coming downstairs like a cataract.” + </p> + <p> + “You came down like a cataract yourself once on a time, auntie; I'll lay + my life on that.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, did I, and not sae lang since neither. And fools and prudes cried + 'Oh!' and called me a tomboy. But, hoots; I was nought but a body born a + wee before her time. All the lasses are tomboys now, bless them, the + bright heart-some things!” + </p> + <p> + “Auntie,” said John softly, seating himself at the breakfast table, “what + d'ye think?” + </p> + <p> + She eyed him knowingly. “Nay, I'm ower thrang working to be bothered + thinking. Out with it, laddie.” + </p> + <p> + He looked wise. “Don't you remember saying—that work like mine + wanted a woman's hand in it?” + </p> + <p> + Her old eyes blinked. “Maybe I did, but what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've taken your advice, and now a woman's hand is coming into it to + guide it and direct it.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be the right hand, though, mind that.” + </p> + <p> + “It <i>will</i> be the right hand, auntie.” + </p> + <p> + “Weel, that's grand,” with another twinkle. “I thought it might be the <i>left</i>, + ye see, and ye might be putting a wedding-ring on it!” And then she burst + into a peal of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “However did you find it out?” he said, with looks of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Tut, laddie, love and a cough can not be hidden. And to think a woman + couldna see through you, too! But come,” tapping the table with both + hands, “who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Not one of your Sisters—no?” with hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “No,” with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “Some other simpering thing, na doot-they're all alike these days.” + </p> + <p> + “But didn't you say the girls were all tomboys now?” + </p> + <p> + “And if I did, d'ye want a body to be singing the same song always? But + come, what like is she? When I hear of a lassie I like fine to know her + colour first. What's her complexion?” + </p> + <p> + “Guess again.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she fair? But what a daft auld dunce I am!—to be sure she's + fair.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how did you know that, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! They say a dark man is a jewel in a fair woman's eye, and I'll + warrant it's as true the other way about. But what's her name?” + </p> + <p> + John's face suddenly straightened and he pretended not to hear. + </p> + <p> + “What's her name?” stamping with both feet. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, auntie, what an ugly old cap you're wearing!” + </p> + <p> + “Ugly?” reaching up to the glass. “Who says it's ugly?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! you're only a bit boy, born yesterday. But, man, what's all this + botherment about telling a lassie's name?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bring her to see you, auntie.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think you will, indeed! and michty quick, too!” + </p> + <p> + This was on Sunday, and by the first post on Monday John Storm received + Glory's letter. It fell on him like a blast out of a cloud in the black + northeast, and cut him to the heart's core. He read it again, and being + alone he burst into laughter. He took it up a third time, and when he had + finished there was something at his throat that seemed to choke him. His + first impulse was fury. He wanted to rush off to Glory and insult her, to + ask her if she was mad or believed him to be so. Because she was a coward + herself, being slave-bound to the world and afraid to fight it face to + face, did she wish to make a coward of him also—to see him sneak + away from the London that had kicked him, like a cur with its tail between + its legs? + </p> + <p> + After this there came an icy chill and an awful consciousness that + mightier forces were at work than any mere human weakness. It was the + world itself, the great pitiless world, that was dividing them again as it + had divided them before, but irrevocably now-not as a playful nurse that + puts petted children apart, but as a torrent that tears the cliffs + asunder. “Leave the world, my son, and return to your unfinished vows.” + Could it be true that this was only another reminder of his broken + obedience? + </p> + <p> + Then came pity. If Glory was slave-bound to the world, which of us was not + in chains to something? And the worst slavery of all was slavery to self. + But that was an abyss he dared not look into; and he began to think + tenderly of Glory, to tell himself how much she had to sacrifice, to + remember his anger and to be ashamed. + </p> + <p> + A week passed, and he went about his work in a helpless way, like a + derelict without rudder or sail and with the sea roaring about it. Every + afternoon when he came home from Soho Mrs. Callender would trip into the + hall wearing a new cap with a smart bow, and finding that he was alone she + would say, “Not to-day, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-day,” he would answer, and they would try to smile. But seeing the + stamp of suffering on his face, she said at last, “Tut, laddie! they love + too much who die for love.” + </p> + <p> + On the Sunday afternoon following he turned again toward Clement's Inn. He + had come to a decision at last, and was calm and even content, yet his + happiness was like a gourd which had grown up in a day, and the morrow's + sun had withered it. + </p> + <p> + Glory had been to rehearsal every day that week. Going to the theatre on + Monday night she had said to herself, “There can be no harm in rehearsing—I'm + not compelled to play.” Notwithstanding her nervousness, the author had + complimented her on her passion and self-abandonment, and going home she + had thought: “I might even go through the first performance and then give + it all up. If I had a success, that would be beautiful, splendid, almost + heroic—it would be thrilling to abandon everything.” Not hearing + from John, she told herself he must be angry, and she felt sorry for him. + “He doesn't know yet how much I am going to do.” Thus the other woman in + her tempted and overcame her, and drew her on from day to day. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Macrae sent Lord Robert to invite her to luncheon on Sunday. “There + can be no harm in going there,” she thought. She went with Rosa, and was + charmed with the lively, gay, and brilliant company. Clever and beautiful + women, clever and handsome men, and nearly all of them of her own + profession. The mistress of the mansion kept open house after church + parade on Sunday, and she sat at the bottom of her table, dressed in black + velvet, with the Archdeacon on her right and a famous actor on her left. + Lord Robert sat at the head and talked to a lady whose remarks were heard + all over the room; but Lady Robert was nowhere to be seen; there was a + hush when her name was mentioned, and then a whispered rumour that she had + differences with her husband, and had scandalized her mother by some act + of indiscretion. + </p> + <p> + Glory's face beamed, and for the first half-hour she seemed to be on the + point of breaking into a rapturous “Well!” Nearly opposite to her at the + table sat a lady whose sleepy look and drowsy voice and airs of languor + showed that she was admired, and that she knew it. Glory found her very + amusing, and broke into little trills of laughter at her weary, withering + comments. This drew the attention of some of the men; they found the + contrast interesting. The conversation consisted first of hints, half + signs, brilliant bits of by-play, and Glory rose to it like a fish to the + May-fly. Then it fell upon bicycling and the costumes ladies wore for it. + The languid one commented upon the female fetich, the skirt, and condemned + “bloomers,” whereupon Glory declared that they were just charming, and + being challenged (by a gentleman) for her reasons she said, “Because when + a girl's got them on she feels as if she's an understudy for a man, and + may even have a chance of playing the part itself in another and a better + world.” + </p> + <p> + Then there was general laughter, and the gentleman said, “You're in the + profession yourself now, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Just a stranger within your gates,” she answered; and when the talk + turned on a recent lawsuit, and the languid one said it was inconceivable + that the woman concerned could have been such a coward in relation to the + man, Glory protested that it was just as natural for a woman to be in fear + of a man (if she loved him) as to be afraid of a mouse or to look under + the bed. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ma chère</i>,” said a dainty little lady sitting next but one (she had + come to London to perform in a silent play), “they tells me you's half my + countrywoman. All right. Will you not speak de French to poor me?” And + when Glory did so the little one clapped her hands and declared she had + never heard the English speak French before. + </p> + <p> + “Say French-cum-Irish,” said Glory, “or, rather, French which begat Irish, + which begat Manx!” + </p> + <p> + “Original, isn't she?” said somebody who was laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Like a sea-gull among so many pigeons!” said somebody else, and the + hothouse airs of the languid lady were lost as in a fresh gust from the + salt sea. + </p> + <p> + But her spirits subsided the moment she had recrossed the threshold. As + they were going home in the cab, past the hospital and down Piccadilly. + Rosa, who was proud and happy, said: “There! All society isn't stupid and + insipid, you see; and there are members of your own profession who try to + live up to the ideal of moral character attainable by a gentleman in + England even yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, no doubt... But, Rosa, there's another kind of man altogether, whose + love has the reverence of a religion, and if I ever meet a man like that—one + who is ready to trample all the world under his feet for me—I think—yes, + I really think I shall leave everything behind and follow him.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave everything behind, indeed! That <i>would</i> be pretty! When + everything yields before you, too, and all the world and his wife are + waiting to shout your praises!” + </p> + <p> + Rosa had gone to her office, and Glory was turning over some designs for + stage costumes, when Liza came in to say that the “Farver” was coming + upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “He has come to scold me,” thought Glory, so she began to hum, to push + things about, and fill the room with noise. But when she saw his drawn + face and wide-open eyes she wanted to fall on his neck and cry. + </p> + <p> + “You have come to tell me you can't do what I suggested?” she said. “Of + course you can't.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said slowly, very slowly. “I have thought it all over, and + concluded that I can—that I must. Yes, I am willing to go away, + Glory, and when you are ready I shall be ready too.” + </p> + <p> + “But where—where—?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know yet; but I am willing to wait for the unrolling of the + scroll. I am willing to follow step by step, not knowing whither. I am + willing to go where God wills, for life or death.” + </p> + <p> + “But your work in London—your great, great work——” + </p> + <p> + “God will see to that, Glory. He can do without any of us. None of us can + do without him. The sun will set without any assistance, you know,” and + the pale face made an effort to smile. + </p> + <p> + “But, John, my dear, dear John, this is not what you expected, what you + have been thinking of and dreaming of, and building your hopes upon.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said; “and for your sake I am sorry, very sorry. I thought of a + great career for you, Glory. Not rescue work merely—others can do + that. There are many good women in the world—nearly all women are + good, but Jew are great—and for the salvation of England, what + England wants now is a great woman.... As for me—God knows best! He + has his own way of weaning us from vanity and the snares of the devil. You + were only an instrument in his hands, my child, hardly knowing what you + were doing. Perhaps he has a work of intercession for us somewhere—far + away from here—in some foreign mission field—who can say?” + </p> + <p> + A feeling akin to terror caught her breath, and she looked up at him with + tearful eyes. + </p> + <p> + “After all, I am glad that this has happened,” he said. “It will help me + to conquer self, to put self behind my back forever, to show the world, by + leaving London, that self has not entered into my count at all, and that I + am thinking of nothing but my work.” + </p> + <p> + A warm flush rose to her cheeks as he spoke, and again she wanted to fling + herself on his neck and cry. But he was too calm for that, too sad and too + spiritual. When he rose to go she held out her hands to him, but he only + took them and carried them to his lips, and kissed them. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she was alone she flung herself down and cried, “Oh, give me + strength to follow this man, who mistakes his love of me for the love of + God!” But even while she sat with bent head and her hands over her face + the creeping sense came back as of another woman within her who was + fighting for her heart. She had conquered again, but at what a cost! The + foreign mission field—what associations had she with that? Only the + memory of her father's lonely life and friendless death. + </p> + <p> + She was feeling cold and had begun to shiver, when the door opened and + Rosa entered. + </p> + <p> + “So he <i>did</i> come again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought he would,” and Rosa laughed coldly. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “That when religious feelings take possession of a man he will stop at + nothing to gain the end he has in view.” + </p> + <p> + “Rosa,” said Glory, flushing crimson, “if you imply that my friend is + capable of one unworthy act or thought I must ask you to withdraw your + words absolutely and at once!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, dear. I was only thinking for your own good. We working women + must not ruin our lives or let anybody else ruin them. 'Duty,' + 'self-sacrifice'—I know the old formulas, but I don't believe in + them. Obey your own heart, my dear, that is your first duty. A man like + Storm would take you out of your real self, and stop your career, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my career, my career! I'm tired to death of hearing of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Glory!” + </p> + <p> + “And who knows? I may not go on with it, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “If you have lost your sense of duty to yourself, have you forgotten your + duty to Mr. Drake? Think what Mr. Drake has done for you!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Drake! Mr. Drake! I'm sick of that too.” + </p> + <p> + “How strange you are to-night, Glory!” + </p> + <p> + “Am I? So are you. It is Mr. Drake here and Mr. Drake there! Are you + trying to force me into his arms?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it you that says that, Glory—you? and to me, too? Don't you see + that this is a different case altogether? And if I thought of my own + feelings only—consulted my own heart——” + </p> + <p> + “Rosa!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Is it so very foolish? Yes, he is young and handsome, and rich and + brilliant, while I—I am ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Rosa; I don't mean that.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, though; and when you came in between us—young and beautiful + and clever—everything that I was not, and could never hope to be—and + he was so drawn to you—what was I to do? Nurse my hopeless and + ridiculous love—or think of him—his happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “Rosa, my poor dear Rosa, forgive me! forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + An hour later, dinner being over, they had returned to the drawing-room. + Rosa was writing at the table, and there was no sound in the room except + the scratching of her pen, the falling of the slips of “copy,” and the + dull reverberation of the bell of St. Clement's Danes, which was ringing + for evening service. Glory was sitting at the desk by the window, with her + head on her hands, looking down into the garden. Out of the dead load at + her heart she kept saying to herself: “Could I do that? Could I give up + the one I loved for his own good, putting myself back, and thinking of him + only?” And then a subtle hypocrisy stole over her and she thought, “Yes I + could, I could!” and in a fever of nervous excitement she began to write a + letter: + </p> + <p> + “The wind bloweth where it listeth, and so with a woman's will. I can not + go abroad with you, dear, because I can not allow myself to break up your + life, for it <i>would</i> be that—it would, it would, you know it + would! There are ten thousand men good enough for the foreign mission + field, but there is only one man in the world for your work in London. + This is one of the things hidden from the wise, and revealed to children + and fools. It would be wrong of me to take you away from your great scene. + I daren't do it. It would be too great a responsibility. My conscience + must have been dead and buried when I suggested such a possibility! Thank + God, it has had a resurrection, and it is not yet too late.” + </p> + <p> + But when the letter was sealed and stamped, and sent out to the post, she + thought: “I must be mad, and there is no method in my madness either. What + do I want—to join his life in London?” And then remembering what she + had written, it seemed as if the other woman must have written it—the + visionary woman, the woman she was making herself into day by day. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. + </h2> + <p> + John Storm had left home early on Monday morning. It was the last day of + his tenancy of the clergy-house, and there was much to do at Soho. Toward + noon he made his way to the church in Bishopsgate Street for the first + time since he had left the Brotherhood. It was midday service, and the + little place was full of business men with their quick, eyes and eager + faces. The Superior preached, and the sermon was on the religious life. We + were each composed of two beings, one temporal, the other eternal, one + carnal, the other spiritual. Life was a constant warfare between these two + nearly matched forces, and often the victory seemed to sway from this side + to that. Our enemy with the chariots of iron was ourselves. There was a + Judas in each one of us ready to betray us with a kiss if allowed. The + lusts of the flesh were the most deadly sins, absolute chastity the most + pleasing to God of all virtues. Did we desire to realize what the + religious life could be? Then let us reflect upon the news which had come + from the South Seas. What was the word that had fallen that morning on all + Christendom like a thunderclap, say, rather, like the blast of a celestial + trumpet? Father Damien was dead! Think of his lonely life in that distant + island where doomed men lived out their days. Cut off from earthly + marriage, with no one claiming his affection in the same way as Christ, he + was free to commit himself entirely to God and to God's afflicted + children. He was truly married to Christ. Christ occupied his soul as Lord + and spouse. Glorious life! Glorious death! Eternal crown of glory waiting + for him in the glory everlasting! + </p> + <p> + When the service ended John Storm stepped up to speak to the Father. His + wide-open eyes were flaming; he was visibly excited. “I came to ask a + question,” he said, “but it is answered already. I will follow Father + Damien and take up his work. I was thinking of the mission field, but my + doubt was whether God had called me, and I had great fear of going + uncalled. God brought me here this morning, not knowing what I was to do, + but now I know, and my mind is made up at last.” + </p> + <p> + The Father was not less moved. They went out into the courtyard together + and walked to and fro, planning, scheming, contriving, deciding. + </p> + <p> + “You'll take the vows first, my son?” + </p> + <p> + “The vows?” + </p> + <p> + “The life vows.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but will that be necessary?” + </p> + <p> + “It will be best. Think what a peculiar appeal it have for those poor + doomed creatures! They are cut off from the world by a terrible + affliction, but you will be cut off by the graciousness of a Christ-fed + purity. They are lepers made of disease; you will be as a leper for the + kingdom of heaven's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Father—if that be so—how much greater the appeal will be + if—if a woman goes out also! Say she is young and beautiful and of + great gifts?” + </p> + <p> + “Brother Andrew may go with you, my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Brother Andrew as well. But holy men in all ages have been bound by + ties of intimacy and affection to good women who have lived and worked + beside them.” + </p> + <p> + “Sisters, my son, elder sisters always.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not? Sister, indeed, and united to me by a great and spiritual + love.” + </p> + <p> + “We are none of us invincible, my son; let us not despise danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Danger, Father! What is the worth of my religion if it does not enable me + to defy that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well—do not decide too soon. I'll come to you at Soho this + evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Do. It's our last night there. I must tell my poor people what my plans + are to be. Good-bye for the present, Father, good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, my son,” and as John Storm went off with a light heart and + bounding step the Father passed indoors with downcast face, saying to + himself with a sigh, “Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he + fall.” + </p> + <p> + It was Lord Mayor's Day again, the streets were thronged, and John Storm + was long in forging his way home. Glory's letter was waiting for him, and + he tore it open with nervous fingers, but when he had read it he laughed + aloud. “God bless her! But she doesn't know everything yet.” Mrs. + Callender was out in the carriage; she would be back for lunch, and the + maid was laying the cloth; but he would not wait. After scribbling a few + lines in pencil to tell of his great resolve, he set off to Clement's Inn. + The Strand was less crowded when he returned to it, and the newsboys were + calling the evening papers with “Full Memoir of Father Damien.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + On coming home from rehearsal Glory had found the costume for her third + act, her great act, awaiting her. All day long she had been thinking of + her letter to John, half ashamed of it, half regretting it, almost wishing + it could be withdrawn. But the dress made a great tug at her heart, and + she could not resist the impulse to try it on. The moment she had done so + the visionary woman whose part she was to play seemed to take possession + of her, and shame and regret were gone. + </p> + <p> + It was a magnificent stage costume, green as the grass in spring with the + morning sun on it. The gown was a splendid brocade with gold-embroidered + lace around the square-cut neck and about the shoulders of the tight-made + sleeves. Round her hips was a sash of golden tissue, and its hanging ends + were fringed with emeralds. A band of azure stones encircled her head, and + her fingers were covered with turquoise rings. + </p> + <p> + She went to the drawing-room, shut the door, and began to rehearse the + scene. It was where the imaginary Gloria, being vain and selfish, trampled + everything under her feet that she might possess the world and the things + of the world. Glory spoke the words aloud, forgetting they were not her + own, until she heard another voice saying, “May I come in, dear?” + </p> + <p> + It was John at the door. She was ashamed of her costume then, but there + was no running away. “Yes, of course, come in,” she cried, trembling all + over, half afraid to be seen, and yet proud too of her beauty and her + splendour. When he entered she was laughing nervously and was about to + say, “See, this has happened before——” + </p> + <p> + But he saw nothing unusual, and she was disappointed and annoyed. Coming + in breathless, as if he had been running, he flung himself down on one end + of the couch, threw his hat on the other end, and said: “What did I tell + you, Glory? That a way would open itself, and it has!” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you think of it when you saw the news in the papers this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “What news?” + </p> + <p> + “That Father Damien is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “But can you—do you really mean that—do you intend——” + </p> + <p> + “I do, Glory—I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you didn't get my letter this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, dear, yes; but you were only thinking for me—God bless + you!—that I was giving up a great scene for a little one. But this—this + is the greatest scene in the world, Glory. Life is a small sacrifice; the + true sacrifice is a living death, a living crucifixion.” + </p> + <p> + She felt as if he had taken her by the throat and was choking her. He had + got up and was walking to and fro, talking impetuously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is a great sacrifice I am asking you to make now, dear. That + far-off island, the poor lepers, and then lifelong banishment. But God + will reward you, and with interest too. Only think, Glory! Think of the + effect of your mere presence out there among those poor doomed creatures! + A young and beautiful woman! Not a melancholy old dolt like me, preaching + and prating to them, but a bright and brilliant girl, laughing with them, + playing games with them, making mimicry for them, and singing to them in + the voice of an angel. Oh, they'll love you, Glory, they'll worship you—you'll + be next to God and his blessed mother with them. And already I hear them + saying among themselves: 'Heaven bless her! She might have had the world + at her feet and made a great name and a great fortune, but she gave it all + up—all, all, all—for pity and love of us!' Won't it be + glorious, my child? Won't it be the noblest thing in all the world?” + </p> + <p> + And she struggled to answer, “Yes, no doubt—the noblest thing in all + the world!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you agree? Ah, I knew your heart spoke in your first letter, and you + wanted to leave London. You shall, too, for God has willed it.” + </p> + <p> + Then she recovered a little and made a nervous attempt to withdraw. “But + the church at Westminster?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed like a boy. “Oh, Golightly may have that now, and welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “But the work in London?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that's all right, Glory. Ever since I heard from you I have been + dealing with the bonds which bound me to London one by one, unravelling + some and breaking others. They are all discharged now, every one of them, + and I need think of them no more. Self is put behind forever, and I can + stand before God and say: 'Do with me as you will; I am ready for anything—anything!'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Crying, Glory? My poor, dear child! But why are you crying?” + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure—quite sure? Am I asking too much of you? Don't let us + deceive ourselves—think——” + </p> + <p> + “Let us talk of something else now.” She began to laugh. “Look at me, John—don't + I look well to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “You always look well, Glory.” + </p> + <p> + “But isn't there any difference—this dress, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + Then his sight came back and his big eyes sparkled. “How beautiful you + are, dear!” + </p> + <p> + “Really? Do I look nice then—really?” + </p> + <p> + “My beautiful, beautiful girl!” + </p> + <p> + Her head was thrown back, and she glowed with joy. + </p> + <p> + “Don't come too near me, you know—don't crush me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, no fear of that—I should be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I mustn't be touched exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “What will they think, I wonder, those poor, lost creatures, so ugly, so + disfigured?” + </p> + <p> + “And my red hair. This colour suits it, doesn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Some Madonna, they'll say; the very picture of the mother of God + herself!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you—are you afraid of me in this frock, dear? Shall I run and + take it off?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no; let me look at you again.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't like me to-day, for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know you've never once kissed me since you came into the room?” + </p> + <p> + “Glory!” + </p> + <p> + “My love! my love!” + </p> + <p> + “And you,” he said, close to her lips, “are you ready for anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Anything,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + At the next moment she was holding herself off with her arms stiff about + his neck, that she might look at him and at her lace sleeves at the same + time. Suddenly a furrow crossed his brow. He had remembered the Father's + warning, and was summoning all his strength. + </p> + <p> + “But out there I'll love you as a sister, Glory.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “For the sake of those poor doomed beings cut off from earthly love we'll + love each other as the angels love.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is the highest, purest, truest love, no doubt. Still——” + </p> + <p> + “What does the old Talmud say?—'He who divorces himself from the + joys of earth weds himself to the glories of Paradise.'” + </p> + <p> + Her lashes were still wet; she was gazing deep into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And to think of being united in the next world, Glory—what + happiness, what ecstasy!” + </p> + <p> + “Love me in this world, dearest,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be their youth, Glory, their strength, their loveliness!” + </p> + <p> + “Be mine, darling, be mine!” + </p> + <p> + But the furrow crossed his brow a second time, and he disengaged himself + before their lips had met again. Then he walked about the room as before, + talking in broken sentences. They would have to leave soon—very soon—almost + at once. And now he must go back to Soho. There was so much to do, to + arrange. On reaching the door he hesitated, quivering with love, hardly + knowing how to part from her. She was standing with head down, half angry + and half ashamed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, <i>au revoir</i>,” he cried in a strained voice, and then fled down + the stairs. “The Father was right,” he thought. “No man is invincible. + But, thank God, it is over! It can never occur again!” + </p> + <p> + Her glow had left her, and she felt chilled and lost There was no help for + it now, and escape was impossible. She must renounce everything for the + man who had renounced everything for her. Sitting on the couch, she + dropped her head on the cushion and cried like a child. In the lowest + depths of her soul she knew full well that she could never go away, but + she began to bid good-bye in her heart to the life she had been living. + The charm and fascination of London began to pass before her like a + panorama, with all the scenes of misery and squalor left out. What a + beautiful world she was leaving behind her! She would remember it all her + life long with useless and unending regret. Her tears were flowing through + the fingers which were clasped beneath her face. + </p> + <p> + A postman's knock came to the door downstairs. The letter was from the + manager, written in the swirl and rush of theatrical life, and reading + like a telegram: “Theatre going on rapidly, men working day and night, + rehearsals advanced and scenery progressing; might we not fix this day + fortnight for the first performance?” + </p> + <p> + Inclosed with this was a letter from the author: “You are on the eve of an + extraordinary success, dear Gloria, and I write to reassure and + congratulate you. Some signs of inexperience I may perhaps observe, some + lack of ease and simplicity, but already it is a performance of so much + passion and power that I predict for it a triumphant success. A great + future awaits you. Don't shrink from it, don't be afraid of it; it is as + certain as that the sun will rise to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + She carried the letter to her lips, then rose from the couch, and threw up + her head, closed her eyes, and smiled. The visionary woman was taking hold + of her again with the slow grip and embrace of the glacier. + </p> + <p> + Rosa came home to dine, and at sight of the new costume she cried, “Shade + of Titian, what a picture!” During dinner she mentioned that she had met + Mr. Drake, who had said that the Prince was likely to be present at the + production, having asked for the date and other particulars. + </p> + <p> + “But haven't you heard the <i>great</i> news, dear? It's in all the late + editions of the evening papers.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said Glory; but she saw what was coming. + </p> + <p> + “Father Storm is to follow Father Damien. That's the report, at all + events; but he is expected to make a statement at his club to-night, and I + have to be there for the paper.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as dinner was over Rosa went off to Soho, and then Glory was + brought back with a shock to the agony of her inward struggle. She knew + that her hour had arrived, and that on her action now everything depended. + She knew that she could never break the chains by which the world and her + profession held her. She knew that the other woman had come, that she must + go with her, and go for good. But the renunciation of love was terrible. + The day had been soft and beautiful. It was falling asleep and yawning + now, with a drowsy breeze that shook the yellow leaves as they hung + withered and closed on the thinning boughs like the fingers of an old + maid's hand. She was sitting at the desk by the window, trying to write a + letter. More than once she tore up the sheet, dried her eyes, and began + again. What she wrote last was this: + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible, dear John. I can not go with you to the South Seas. I + have struggled, but I can not, I can not! It is the greatest, noblest, + sublimest mission in the world, but I am not the woman for these high + tasks. I should be only a fruitless fig tree, a sham, a hypocrite. It + would be like taking a dead body with you to take me, for my heart would + not be there. You would find that out, dear, and I should be ashamed. + </p> + <p> + “And then I can not leave this life—I can not give up London. I am + like a child—I like the bustling streets, the brilliant + thoroughfares, the crowds, the bands of music, the lights at night, and + the sense of life. I like to succeed, too, and to be admired, and—yes, + to hear the clapping of hands in a theatre. You are above all this, and + can look down at it as dross, and I like you for that also. But give it + all up I can't; I haven't the strength; it is in my blood, dear, and if I + part from it I must die. + </p> + <p> + “And then I like to be fondled and coaxed and kissed, and I want so much—oh, + so much to be loved! I want somebody to tell me every day and always how + much he loves me, and to praise me and pet me and forget everything else + for me, everything, everything, even his own soul and salvation! You can + not do that; it would be sinful, and besides it wouldn't be love as you + understand it, and as it ought to be, if you are to go out to that solemn + and awful task. + </p> + <p> + “When I said I loved you I spoke the truth, dear, and yet I didn't know + what the word meant really, I didn't realize everything. I love you still—with + all my heart and soul I love you; but now I know that there is a + difference between us, that we can never come together. No, I can not + reach up to your austere heights. I am so weak; you are so strong. Your + 'strength is as the strength of ten because your heart is pure,' while I—— + </p> + <p> + “I am unworthy of your thoughts, John. Leave me to the life I have chosen. + It may be poor and vain and worthless, but it is the only life I'm fit + for. And yet I love you—and you loved me. I suppose God makes men + and women like that sometimes, and it is no use struggling. + </p> + <p> + “One kiss, dear—it is the last.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + John Storm went back to Victoria Square with a bright and joyful face and + found Mrs. Callender waiting for him, grim as a judge. He could see that + her eyes were large and red with weeping, but she fell on him instantly + with withering scorn. + </p> + <p> + “So you're here at last, are ye? A pretty senseless thing this is, to be + sure! What are you dreaming about? Are you bewitched or what? Do you + suppose things can be broken off in this way? You to go to the leper + islands indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm called, auntie, and when God calls a man, what can he do but answer + with Samuel——” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! Don't talk sic nonsense. Besides, Samuel had some sense. He waited + to be called three times, and I havena heard this is your third time of + calling.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm laughed, and that provoked her to towering indignation. “Good + God, what are you thinking of, man? There's that puir lassie—you're + running away from her, too, aren't you? It's shameful, it's disgraceful, + it's unprincipled, and <i>you</i> to do it too!” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't trouble about that, auntie,” said John; “she is going with + me.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Mrs. Callender, and her face expressed boundless + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said John, “you women are brimful of courage, God bless you! and + she's the bravest of you all.” + </p> + <p> + “But you'll no have the assurance to tak' that puir bit lassie to yonder + God-forsaken spot?” + </p> + <p> + “She wants to go—at least she wants to leave London.” + </p> + <p> + “What does she? Weel, weel! But didn't I say she was nought but one of + your Sisters or sic-like?—And you're going to let a slip of a girl + tak' you away frae your ain work and your ain duty—and you call + yourself a man!” + </p> + <p> + He began to coax and appease her, and before long the grim old face was + struggling between smiles and tears. + </p> + <p> + “Tut! get along wi' ye! I've a great mind, though—I'd be liking fine + to see her anyway. Now, where does she bide in London?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you want to know that, auntie?” + </p> + <p> + “What's it to you, laddie? Can't a body call to say 'Good-bye' to a + lassie, and tak' her a wee present before going away, without asking a + man's permission?” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't do it, though, if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she's as bright as a star and as quick as a diamond, and she'd + see through you in a twinkling. Besides, I shouldn't advise——” + </p> + <p> + “Keep your advice like your salt till you're asked for it, my man—and + to think of any reasonable body giving up his work in London for that—that——” + </p> + <p> + “Good men have gone out to the mission field, auntie.” + </p> + <p> + “Mission fiddlesticks! Just a barber's chair, fit for every comer.” + </p> + <p> + “And then this isn't the mission field exactly either.” + </p> + <p> + “Mair's the pity, and then you wouldna be running bull-neck on your death + before your time.” + </p> + <p> + “None of us can do that, auntie, for heaven is over all.” + </p> + <p> + “High words off an empty stomach, my man, so you can just keep them to + cool your parridge. But oh, dear—oh, dear! You'll forget your puir + auld Jane Callender, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Never, auntie!” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! don't tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” + </p> + <p> + “It's the last I'm to see of you, laddie. I'm knowing that fine—and + me that fond of you too, and looking on you as my ain son.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, auntie, come; you mustn't take it so seriously.” + </p> + <p> + “And to think a bit thing like that can make all this botherment!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, it's my own doing—absolutely mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, man's the head, but woman turns it.” + </p> + <p> + They dined together and then got into the carriage for Soho. John talked + continually, with an impetuous rush of enthusiasm; but the old lady sat in + gloomy silence, broken only by a sigh. At the corner of Downing Street he + got out to call on the Prime Minister, and sent the carriage on to the + clergy-house. + </p> + <p> + A newsboy going down Whitehall was calling an evening paper. John bought a + copy, and the first thing his eye fell upon was the mention of his own + name: “The announcement in another column that Father Storm of Soho + intends to take up the work which the heroic Father Damien has just laid + down will be received by the public with mingled joy and regret—joy + at the splendid heroism which prompts so noble a resolve, regret at the + loss which the Church in London will sustain by the removal of a clergyman + of so much courage, devotion, independence, and self-sacrifice.... That + the son of a peer and heir to an earldom should voluntarily take up a life + of poverty in Soho, one of the most crowded, criminal, and neglected + corners of Christendom, was a fact of so much significance——” + </p> + <p> + John Storm crushed the paper in his hand and threw it into the street; but + a few minutes afterward he saw another copy of it in the hands of the + Prime Minister as he came to the door of the Cabinet room to greet him. + The old man's face looked soft, and his voice had a faint tremor. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you are bringing me bad news, John.” + </p> + <p> + John laughed noisily. “Do I look like it, uncle? Bad news, indeed! No, but + the best news in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I am about to be married. You've often told me I ought to be, and now I'm + going to act on your advice.” + </p> + <p> + The bleak old face was smiling. “Then the rumour I see in the papers isn't + true, after all?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, it's true enough, and my wife is to go with me.” + </p> + <p> + “But have you considered that carefully? Isn't it a terrible demand to + make of any woman? Women are more religious than men, but they are more + material also. Under the heat of religious impulse a woman is capable of + sacrifices—great sacrifices—but when it has cooled——” + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that, uncle,” said John; and then he told the Prime Minister + what he had told Mrs. Callender—that it was Glory's proposal that + they should leave London, and that without this suggestion he might not + have thought of his present enterprise. The bleak face kept smiling, but + the Prime Minister was asking himself: “What does this mean? Has she <i>her + own</i> reasons for wishing to go away?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, my boy, that with all this talk you've not yet told me who + she is?” + </p> + <p> + John told him, and then a faint and far-off rumour out of another world + seemed to flit across his memory. + </p> + <p> + “An actress at present, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “So to speak, but ready to give up everything for this glorious mission.” + </p> + <p> + “Very brave, no doubt, very beautiful; but what of your present + responsibilities—your responsibilities in London?” + </p> + <p> + “That's just what I came to speak about,” said John; and then his + rapturous face straightened, and he made some effort to plunge into the + practical aspect of his affairs at Soho. There was his club for girls and + his home for children. They were to be turned out of the clergy-house + tomorrow, and he had taken a shelter at Westminster. But the means to + support them were still deficient, and if there was anything coming to him + that would suffice for that purpose—if there was enough left—if + his mother's money was not all gone—— + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister was looking into John's face, watching the play of his + features, but hardly listening to what he said. “What does this mean?” he + was asking himself, in the old habitual way of the man whose business it + is to read the motives that are not revealed. + </p> + <p> + “So you are willing to leave London, after all, John?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, uncle? London is nothing to me in itself, less than nothing; and + if that brave girl to whom it is everything——” + </p> + <p> + “And yet six months ago I gave you the opportunity of doing so, and then——” + </p> + <p> + “Then my head was full of dreams, sir. Thank God, they are gone now, and I + am awake at last!” + </p> + <p> + “But the Church—I thought your duty and devotion to the Church——” + </p> + <p> + “The Church is a chaos, uncle, a wreck of fragments without unity, + principle, or life. No man can find foothold in it now without + accommodating his duty and his loyalty to his chances of a livelihood. It + is a career, not a crusade. Once I imagined that a man might live as a + protest against all this, but it was a dream, a vain and presumptuous + dream.” + </p> + <p> + “And then your woman movement——” + </p> + <p> + “Another dream, uncle! A whole standing army marshalled and equipped to do + battle against the world's sins toward woman could never hope for victory. + Why? Because the enemy is ourselves, and only God can contend against a + foe like that. He will, too! For the wrongs inflicted on woman by this + wicked and immoral London God will visit it with his vengeance yet. I see + it coming, it is not far off, and God help those——” + </p> + <p> + “But surely, my boy, surely it is not necessary to fly away from the world + in order to escape from your dreams? Just when it is going to be good to + you, too. It was kicking and cuffing and laughing at you only yesterday——” + </p> + <p> + “And to-morrow it would kick and cuff and laugh at me again. Oh, it is a + cowardly and contemptible world, uncle, and happy is the man who wants + nothing of it! He is its master, its absolute master, and everybody else + is its wretched slave. Think of the people who are scrambling for fame and + titles and decorations and invitations to court! They'll all be in their + six feet by two feet some-day. And then think of the rich men who hire + detectives to watch over their children lest they should be stolen for + sake of a ransom, while they themselves, like human mill-horses, go + tramping round and round the safes which contain their securities! Oh, + miserable delusion, to think that because a nation is rich it is therefore + great! Once I thought the Church was a refuge from this worst of the + spiritual dangers of the age, and so it would have been if it had been + built on the Gospel. But it isn't; it loves the thrones of the world and + bows down to the golden calf. Poverty! Give me poverty and let me renounce + everything. Jesus, our blessed Jesus, he knew well what he was doing in + choosing to be poor, and even as a man he was the greatest being that ever + trod upon the earth.” + </p> + <p> + “But this leper island mission is not poverty merely, my dear John—it + is death, certain death, sooner or later, and God knows what news the next + mail may bring us!” + </p> + <p> + “As to that I feel I am in God's hands, sir, and he knows best what is + good for us. People talk about dying before their time, but no man ever + did or ever will or ever can do so, and it is blasphemy to think of it. + Then which of us can prolong our lives by one day or hour or minute? But + God can do everything. And what a grand inspiration to trust yourself + absolutely to him, to raise the arms heavenward which the world would + pinion to your side and cry, 'Do with me as thou wilt, I am ready for + anything—anything.'” + </p> + <p> + A tremor passed over the wrinkles about the old man's eyes, and he + thought: “All this is self-deception. He doesn't believe a word of it. + Poor boy! his heart alone is leading him, and he is the worst slave of us + all.” + </p> + <p> + Then he said aloud: “Things haven't fallen out as I expected, John, and I + am sorry, very sorry. The laws of life and the laws of love don't always + run together—I know that quite well.” + </p> + <p> + John flinched, but made no protest. + </p> + <p> + “I shall feel as if I were losing your mother a second time when you leave + me, my boy. To tell you the truth, I've been watching you and thinking of + you, though you haven't known it. And you've rather neglected the old man. + I thought you might bring your wife to me some day, and that I might live + to see your children. But that's all over now, and there seems to be no + help for it. They say the most noble and beautiful things in the world are + done in a state of fever, and perhaps this fever of yours—-H'm. As + for the money, it is ready for you at any time.” + </p> + <p> + “There can't be much left, uncle. I have gone through most of it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, John, no; the money you spent was my money—your own is still + untouched.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too good, uncle, and if I had once thought you wished to see more + of me——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I know, I know. It was a wise man who said it was hard to love a + woman and do anything else, even to love God himself.” + </p> + <p> + John dropped his head and turned to go. + </p> + <p> + “But come again before you leave London—if you do leave it—and + now good-bye, and God bless you!” + </p> + <p> + The news of John Storm's intention to follow Father Damien had touched and + thrilled the heart of London, and the streets and courts about St. Mary + Magdalene's were thronged with people. In their eyes he was about to + fulfil a glorious mission, and ought to be encouraged and sustained. + “Good-bye, Father!” cried one. “God bless you!” cried another. A young + woman with timid eyes stretched out her hand to him, and then everybody + attempted to do the same. He tried to answer cheerfully, but was conscious + that his throat was thick and his voice was husky. Mrs. Pincher was at the + door of the clergy-house, crying openly and wiping her eyes. “Ain't there + lepers enough in London, sir, without goin' to the ends of the earth for + 'em?” He laughed and made an effort to answer her humorously, but for some + reason both words and ideas failed him. + </p> + <p> + The club-room was crowded, and among the girls and the Sisters there were + several strange faces. Mrs. Callender sat at one end of the little + platform, and she was glowering across at the other end, where the Father + Superior stood in his black cassock, quiet and watchful, and with the + sprawling, smiling face of Brother Andrew by his side. The girls were + singing when John entered, and their voices swelled out as they saw him + pushing his way through. When the hymn ended there was silence for a + moment as if it was expected that he would speak, but he did not rise, and + the lady at the harmonium began again. Some of the young mothers from the + shelter above had brought down their little ones, and the thin, tuneless + voices could be heard among the rest: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There's a Friend for little children + Above the bright blue sky. +</pre> + <p> + John had made a brave fight for it, but he was beginning to break down. + Everybody else had risen, he could not rise. An expression of fear and at + the same time of shame had come into his face. Vaguely, half-consciously, + half-reproachfully, he began to review the situation. After all, he was + deserting his post, he was running away. This was his true scene, his true + work, and if he turned his back upon it he would be pursued by eternal + regrets. And yet he must go, he must leave everything—that alone he + understood and felt. + </p> + <p> + All at once, God knows why, he began to think of something which had + happened when he was a boy. With his father he was crossing the Duddon + Sands. The tide was out, far out, but it had turned, it was galloping + toward them, and they could hear the champing waves on the beach behind. + “Run, boy, run! Give me your hand and run!” + </p> + <p> + Then he resumed the current of his former thoughts. “What was I thinking + about?” he asked himself; and when he remembered, he thought, “I will give + my hand to the heavenly Father and go on without fear.” At the second + verse he rallied, rose to his feet, and joined in the singing. It was said + afterward that his deep voice rang out above all the other voices, and + that he sang in rapid and irregular time, going faster and faster at every + line. + </p> + <p> + They had reached the last verse but one, when he saw a young girl crushing + her way toward him with a letter. She was smiling, and seemed proud to + render him this service. He was about to lay the letter aside when he + glanced at it, and then he could not put it down. It was marked “Urgent,” + and the address was in Glory's handwriting. The champing waves were in his + ears again. They were coming on and on. + </p> + <p> + A presentiment of evil crept over him and he opened the letter and read + it. Then his life fell to wreck in a moment. Its nullity, its + hopelessness, its futility, its folly, the world with its elusive joys, + love with its deceptions so cruel and so sweet-all, all came sweeping up + on him like the sea-wrack out of a storm. In an instant the truth appeared + to him, and he understood himself at last. For Glory's sake he had + sacrificed everything and deceived himself before God and man. And yet she + had failed him and forsaken him, and slipped out of his hands in the end. + The tide had overtaken and surrounded him, and the voices of the girls and + the children were like the roar of the waters in his ears. + </p> + <p> + But what was this? Why had they stopped singing? All at once he became + aware that everybody else was seated, and that he was standing alone on + the edge of the platform with Glory's letter in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush!” There was a strained silence, and he tried to recollect what + it was that he was expected to do. Every eye was on his face. Some of the + strangers opened note-books and sat ready to write. Then, coming to + himself, he understood what was before him, and tried to control his voice + and begin. + </p> + <p> + “Girls,” he said, but he was hardly able to speak or breathe. “Girls,” he + said again, but his strong voice shook, and he tried in vain to go on. + </p> + <p> + One of the girls began to sob. Then another and another. It was said + afterward that nobody could look on his drawn face, so hopeless, so full + of the traces of suffering and bitter sadness, without wanting to cry + aloud. But he controlled himself at length. + </p> + <p> + “My good friends all, you came to-night to bid me Godspeed on a long + journey and I came to bid you farewell. But there is a higher power that + rules our actions, and it is little we know of our own future, or our fate + or ourselves. God bids me tell you that my leper island is to be London, + and that my work among you is not done yet.” + </p> + <p> + After saying this he stood a moment as if intending to say more, but he + said nothing. The letter crinkled in his fingers, he looked at it, an + expression of helplessness came into his face, and he sat down. And then + the Father came up to him and sat beside him, and took his hand and + comforted it as if he had been a little child. + </p> + <p> + There was another attempt to sing, but the hymn made no headway this time, + for some of the girls were crying, they hardly knew why, and others were + whispering, and the strangers were leaving the room. Two ladies were going + down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “I felt sure he wouldn't go,” said one. + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” said the other. + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell you. I had my private reasons.” + </p> + <p> + It was Rosa Macquarrie. Going down the dark lane she came upon a woman who + had haunted the outside of the building during the past half hour, + apparently thinking at one moment of entering and at the next of going + away. The woman hurriedly lowered her veil as Rosa approached her, but she + was too late to avoid recognition. + </p> + <p> + “Glory! Is it you?” + </p> + <p> + Glory covered her face with her hands and sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me, Rosa. Oh, I'm a lost woman! Lord forgive me, what have I + done?” + </p> + <p> + “My poor child!” + </p> + <p> + “Take me home, Rosa. And don't leave me to-night, dear—not to-night, + Rosa.” + </p> + <p> + And Rosa took her by the arm and led her back to Clement's Inn. + </p> + <p> + Next morning before daybreak the brothers of the Society of the Holy + Gethsemane had gathered in their church in Bishopsgate Street for Lauds + and Prime. Only the chancel was lighted up, the rest of the church was + dark, but the first gleams of dawn, were now struggling through the + eastern window against the candlelight on the altar and the gaslight on + the choir. + </p> + <p> + John Storm was standing on the altar steps and the Father was by his side. + He was wearing the cassock of the Brotherhood, and the cord with the three + knots was bound about his waist. All was silent round about, the city was + still asleep, the current of life had not yet awakened for the day. Lauds + and Prime were over, the brothers were on their knees, and the Father was + reading the last words of the dedication service. + </p> + <p> + “Amen! Amen!” + </p> + <p> + There was a stroke of the bell overhead, a door somewhere was loudly + slammed, and then the organ began to play: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty. +</pre> + <p> + The brothers rose and sang, their voices filled the dark place, and the + quivering sounds of the organ swelled up to the unseen roof. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Holy, Holy, Holy! Merciful and Mighty, + God in Three Persons, Blessed Trinity! +</pre> + <p> + The Father's cheeks were moist, but his eyes were shining and his face was + full of a great joy. John Storm was standing with bowed head. He had made + the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, and surrendered his life to + God. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOURTH BOOK. — <i>SANCTUARY</i>. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + Six months passed, and a panic terror had seized London. It was one of + those epidemic frenzies which have fallen upon great cities in former ages + of the world. The public mind was filled with the idea that London was + threatened with a serious danger; that it was verging on an awful crisis; + that it was about to be destroyed. + </p> + <p> + The signs were such as have usually been considered preparatory to the + second coming of the Messiah—a shock of earthquake which threw down + a tottering chimney (somewhere in Soho), and the expected appearance of a + comet. But this was not to be the second Advent; it was to be a disaster + confined to London. + </p> + <p> + God was about to punish London for its sins. The dishonour lay at its door + of being the wickedest city in the world. Side by side with the + development of mechanical science lifting men to the power and position of + angels, there was a moral degeneration degrading them to the level of + beasts. With an apparent aspiration after social and humanitarian reform, + there was a corruption of the public conscience and a hardening of the + public heart. London was the living picture of this startling contrast. + Impiety, iniquity, impurity, and injustice were at their height here, and + either England must forfeit her position among the nations, or the + Almighty would interpose. The Almighty was about to interpose, and the + consummation of London's wickedness was near. + </p> + <p> + By what means the destruction of London would come to pass was a matter on + which there were many theories, and the fear and consternation of the + people took various shapes. One of them was that of a mighty earthquake, + in which the dome of St. Paul's was to totter and the towers of + Westminster Abbey to rock and fall amid clouds of dust. Another was that + of an avenging fire, in which the great city was to light up the whole + face of Europe and burn to ashes as a witness of God's wrath at the sins + of men. A third was that of a flood, in which the Thames was to rise and + submerge the city, and tens of thousands of houses and hundreds of + thousands of persons were to be washed away and destroyed. + </p> + <p> + Concerning the time of the event, the popular imagination had attained to + a more definite idea. It was to occur on the great day of the Epsom races. + Derby Day was the national day. More than any day associated with + political independence, or with victory in battle, or yet with religious + sanctity, the day devoted to sport and gambling and intemperance and + immorality was England's day. Therefore the Almighty had selected that day + for the awful revelation by which he would make his power known to man. + </p> + <p> + Thus the heart of London was once more stormed, and shame and panic ran + through it like an epidemic. The consequences were the usual ones. In vain + the newspapers published articles in derision of the madness, with + accounts of similar frenzies which had laid hold of London before. There + was a run on the banks, men sold their businesses, dissolved their + partnerships, transferred their stocks, and removed to houses outside the + suburbs. Great losses were sustained in all ranks of society, and the only + class known to escape were the Jews on the Exchange, who held their peace + and profited by their infidelity. + </p> + <p> + When people asked themselves who the author and origin of the panic was + they thought instantly and with one accord of a dark-eyed, lonely man, who + walked the streets of London in the black cassock of a monk, with the cord + and three knots which were the witness of life vows. No dress could have + shown to better advantage his dark-brown face and tall figure. Something + majestic seemed to hang about the man. His big lustrous eyes, his faint + smile with its sad expression always behind it, his silence, his reserve, + his burning eloquence when he preached—seemed to lay siege to the + imagination of the populace, and especially to take hold as with a fiery + grip of the impassioned souls of women. + </p> + <p> + A certain mystery about his life did much to help this extraordinary + fascination. When London as a whole became conscious of him it was + understood that he was in some sort a nobleman as well as a priest, and + had renounced the pleasures and possessions of the world and given up all + for God. His life was devoted to the poor and outcast, especially to the + Magdalenes and their unhappy children. Although a detached monk still and + living in obedience to the rule of one of the monastic brotherhoods of the + Anglican Church, he was also vicar of a parish in Westminster. His church + was a centre of religious life in that abandoned district, having no fewer + than thirty parochial organizations connected with it, including guilds, + clubs, temperance societies, savings banks, and, above all, shelters and + orphanages for the girls and their little ones, who were the vicar's + especial care. + </p> + <p> + His chief helpers were a company of devoted women, drawn mainly from the + fashionable fringe which skirted his squalid district and banded together + as a Sisterhood. For clerical help he depended entirely on the brothers of + his society, and the money saved by these voluntary agencies he + distributed among the poor, the sick, and the unfortunate. Money of his + own he had none, and his purse was always empty by reason of his + free-handedness. Rumour spoke of a fortune of many thousands which had + been spent wholly on others in the building or maintenance of school and + hospital, shelter and refuge. He lived a life of more than Christian + simplicity, and was seen to treat himself with constant disregard of + comfort and convenience. His only home was two rooms (formerly assigned to + the choir) on the ground floor under his church, and it was understood + that he slept on a hospital bed, wrapped in the cloak which in winter he + wore over his cassock. His personal servant in these cell-like quarters + was a lay brother from his society—a big ungainly boy with sprawling + features who served him and loved him and looked up to him with the + devotion of a dog. A dog of other kind he had also—a bloodhound, + whose affection for him was a terror to all who awakened its jealousy or + provoked its master's wrath. People said he had learned renunciation and + was the most Christlike man they had ever known. He was called “The + Father.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the man with whom the popular imagination associated the idea of + the panic, but what specific ground there was for laying upon him the + responsibility of the precise predictions which led to it none could + rightly say. It was remembered afterward that every new folly had been + ascribed to him. “The Father says so and so,” or “The Father says such and + such will come to pass,” and then came prophecies which were the remotest + from his thoughts. No matter how wild or extravagant the assertion, if it + was laid upon him there were people ready to believe it, so deep was the + impression made on the public mind by this priest in the black cassock + with the bloodhound at his heels, so strong was the assurance that he was + a man with the breath of God in him. + </p> + <p> + What was known with certainty was that the Father preached against the + impurities and injustices of the age with a vehemence never heard before, + and that when he spoke of the wickedness of the world toward woman, of the + temptations that were laid before her—temptations of dress, of + luxury, of false work and false fame—and then of the cruel neglect + and abandonment of woman when her summer had gone and her winter had come, + his lips seemed to be touched as by a live coal from the altar and his + eyes to blaze as with Pentecostal fire. Cities and nations which + countenanced and upheld such corruptions of a false civilization would be + overtaken by the judgment of God. That judgment was near, it was imminent; + and but for the many instances in which the life of the rich, the great, + and the powerful was redeemed by the highest virtue, this pitiful farce of + a national existence would have been played out already; but for the good + men still found in Sodom, the city of abominations must long since have + been destroyed. People there were to laugh at these predictions, but they + were only throwing cold water on lime; the more they did so the more it + smoked. + </p> + <p> + Little by little a supernatural atmosphere gathered about the Father as a + man sent from God. One day he visited a child who was sick with a bad + mouth, and touching the child's mouth he said, “It will be well soon.” The + child recovered immediately, and the idea started that he was a healer. + People waited for him that they might touch his hand. Sometimes after + service he had to stand half an hour while the congregation filed past + him. Hard-headed persons, sane and acute in other relations of life, were + heard to protest that on shaking hands with him an electric current passed + through them. Sick people declared themselves cured by the sight of him, + and charlatans sold handkerchiefs on pretence that he had blessed them. He + repeatedly protested that it was not necessary to touch or even to see + him. “Your faith alone can make you whole.” But the frenzy increased, the + people crowded upon him and he was followed through the streets for his + blessing. + </p> + <p> + Somebody discovered that he was born on the 25th of December, and was just + thirty-three years of age. Then the madness reached its height. A certain + resemblance was observed in his face and head to the traditional head and + face of Christ, and it was the humour of the populace to discover some + mystical relations between him and the divine figure. Hysterical women + kissed his hand and even hailed him as their Saviour. He protested and + remonstrated, but all to no purpose. The delusion grew, and his + protestations helped it. + </p> + <p> + As the day approached that was to be big with the fate of London, his + church, which had been crowded before, was now besieged. He was understood + to preach the hope that in the calamity to befall the city a remnant would + be saved, as Israel was saved from the plagues of Egypt. Thousands who + were too poor to leave London had determined to spend the night of the + fateful day in the open air, and already they were going out into the + fields and the parks, to Hampstead, Highgate, and Blackheath. The panic + was becoming terrible and the newspapers were calling upon the authorities + to intervene. A danger to the public peace was threatened, and the man who + was chiefly to blame for it should be dealt with at once. No matter that + he was innocent of active sedition, no matter that he was living a life + devoted to religious and humanitarian reforms, no matter that his vivid + faith, his trust in God, and his obedience to the divine will were like a + light shining in a dark place, no matter that he was not guilty of the + wild extravagance of the predictions of his followers—“the Father” + was a peril, he was a panic-maker, and he should be arrested and + restrained. + </p> + <p> + The morning of Derby Day broke gray and dull and close. It was one of + those mornings in summer which portend a thunderstorm and great heat. In + that atmosphere London awoke to two great fevers—the fever of + superstitious fear and the fever of gambling and sport. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + But London is a monster with many hearts; it is capable of various + emotions, and even at that feverish time it was at the full tide of a + sensation of a different kind entirely. This was a new play and a new + player. The play was “risky”; it was understood to present the fallen + woman in her naked reality, and not as a soiled dove or sentimental + plaything. The player was the actress who performed this part. She was new + to the stage, and little was known of her, but it was whispered that she + had something in common with the character she personated. Her success had + been instantaneous: her photograph was in the shop windows, it had been + reproduced in the illustrated papers, she had sat to famous artists, and + her portrait in oils was on the line at Burlington House. + </p> + <p> + The play was the latest work of the Scandinavian dramatist, the actress + was Glory Quayle. + </p> + <p> + At nine o'clock on the morning of Derby Day Glory was waiting in the + drawing-room of the Garden House, dressed in a magnificent outdoor costume + of pale gray which seemed to wave like a ripe hayfield. She looked paler + and more nervous than before, and sometimes she glanced at the clock on + the mantelpiece and sometimes looked away in the distance before her while + she drew on her long white gloves and buttoned them. Rosa Macquarrie came + upstairs hurriedly. She was smartly dressed in black with red roses and + looked bright and brisk and happy. + </p> + <p> + “He has sent Benson with the carriage to ask us to drive down,” said Rosa. + “Must have some engagement surely. Let us be off, dear. No time to lose.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go, I wonder?” said Glory, with a strange gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed yes, dear. Why not? You've not been in good spirits lately, and it + will do you good. Besides, you deserve a holiday after a six months' + season. And then it's such a great day for <i>him</i>, too——” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I'll go,” said Glory, and at that moment a twitch of her + nervous fingers broke a button off one of the gloves. She drew it off, + threw both gloves on to a side table, took up another pair that lay there, + and followed Rosa downstairs. An open carriage was waiting for them in the + outer court of the inn, and ten minutes afterward they drew up in a narrow + street off Whitehall under a wide archway which opened into the large and + silent quadrangle leading to the principal public offices. It was the Home + Office; the carriage had come for Drake. + </p> + <p> + Drake had seen changes in his life too. His father was dead and he had + succeeded to the baronetcy. He had also inherited a racing establishment + which the family had long upheld, and a colt which had been entered for + the Derby nearly three years ago was to run in the race that day. Its name + was Ellan Vannin, and it was not a favourite. Notwithstanding the change + in his fortunes, Drake still held his position of private secretary to the + Secretary of State, but it was understood that he was shortly to enter + public life under the wing of the Government, and to stand for the first + constituency that became vacant. Ministers predicted a career for him; + there was nothing he might not aspire to, and hardly anything he might not + do. + </p> + <p> + Parliament had adjourned in honour of the day on which the “Isthmian + games” were celebrated, and the Home Secretary, as leader of the Lower + House, had said that horse-racing was “a noble and distinguished sport + deserving of a national holiday.” But the Minister himself, and + consequently his secretary, had been compelled to put in an appearance at + their office for all that. There was urgent business demanding prompt + attention. + </p> + <p> + In the large green room of the Home Office overlooking the empty + quadrangle, the Minister, dressed in a paddock coat, received a deputation + of six clergymen. It included Archdeacon Wealthy, who served as its + spokesman. In a rotund voice, strutting a step and swinging his glasses, + the Archdeacon stated their case. They had come, most reluctantly and with + a sense of pain and grief and humiliation, to make representations about a + brother clergyman. It was the notorious Mr. Storm—“Father” Storm, + for he was drawing the people into the Roman obedience. The man was + bringing religion into ridicule and contempt, and it was the duty of all + who loved their mother Church—— + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Mr. Archdeacon, we have nothing to do with that,” said the + Minister. “You should go to your Bishop. Surely he is the proper person——” + </p> + <p> + “We've been, sir,” said the Archdeacon, and then followed an explanation + of the Bishop's powerlessness. The Church provided no funds to protect a + Bishop from legal proceedings in inhibiting a vicar guilty of this + ridiculous kind of conduct. “But the man comes within the power of the + secular authorities, sir. He is constantly inciting people to assemble + unlawfully to the danger of the public peace.” + </p> + <p> + “How? How?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is a fanatic, a lunatic, and has put out monstrous and + ridiculous predictions about the destruction of London, causing disorderly + crowds to assemble about his church. The thoroughfares are blocked, and + people are pushed about and assaulted. Indeed, things have come to such a + pass that now—to-day——” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me again, Mr. Archdeacon, but this seems to be a simple matter for + the police. Why didn't you go to the Commissioner at Scotland Yard?” + </p> + <p> + “We did, sir, but he said—you will hardly believe it, but he + actually affirmed—that as the man had been guilty of no overt act of + sedition——” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely—that would be my view too.” + </p> + <p> + “And are we, sir, to wait for a riot, for death, for murder, before the + law can be put in motion? Is there no precedent for proceeding before + anything serious—I may say alarming——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, gentlemen,” said the Minister, glancing impatiently at his watch, + “I can only promise you that the matter shall have proper attention. The + Commissioner shall be seen, and if a summons——” + </p> + <p> + “It is too late for that now, sir. The man is a dangerous madman and + should be arrested and put under restraint.” + </p> + <p> + “I confess I don't quite see what he has done; but if——” + </p> + <p> + The Archdeacon drew himself up. “Because a clergyman is well connected—has + high official connections indeed——But surely it is better that + one man should be put under control, whoever he is, than that the whole + Church and nation should be endangered and disgraced.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah——H'm!——H'm! I think I've heard that sentiment + before somewhere, Mr. Archdeacon. But I'll not detain you now. If a + warrant is necessary——” and with vague promises and plausible + speeches the Minister bowed the deputation out of the room. Then he pisht + and pshawed, swung a field glass across his shoulder, and prepared to + leave for the day. + </p> + <p> + “Confound them! How these Christians love each other! I leave it with you, + Drake. When the matter was mentioned at Downing Street the Prime Minister + told us to act without regard to his interest in the young priest. If + there's likely to be a riot let the Commissioner get his warrant—Heigho! + Ten-thirty! I'm off! Good-day!” + </p> + <p> + Some minutes afterward Drake himself, having written to Scotland Yard, + followed his chief down the private staircase to the quadrangle, where + Glory and Rosa were waiting in the carriage under the arch. + </p> + <p> + In honour of the event in which his horse was to play a part, Drake had + engaged a coach to take a party of friends to the Downs. They assembled at + a hotel in the Buckingham Palace Road. Lord Robert was there, dressed in + the latest fashion, with boots of approved Parisian shape and a necktie of + crying colours. Betty Bellman was with him, in a red and white dress and a + large red hat. There was a lady in pale green with a light bonnet, another + in gray and white, and another in brightest blue. They were a large, + smart, and even gorgeous company, chiefly theatrical. Before eleven + o'clock they were spinning along the Kennington Road on their way to + Epsom. + </p> + <p> + Drake himself drove and Glory occupied the seat of honour by his side. She + was looking brighter now, and was smiling and laughing and making little + sallies in response to her companion's talk. He was telling her all about + the carnival. The Derby was the greatest race the world over. It was run + for about six thousand sovereigns, but the total turnover of the meeting + was probably a million of money. Thus on its business side alone it was a + great national enterprise, and the puritans who would abolish it ought to + think of that. A race-horse cost about three hundred a year to keep, but + of course nobody maintained his racing establishment on his winnings. + Nearly everybody had to bet, and gambling was not so great an offence as + some people supposed. The whole trade of the world was of the nature of a + gamble, life itself was a gamble, and the race-course was the only market + in the world where no man could afford to go bankrupt, or be a defaulter + and refuse to pay. + </p> + <p> + They were now going by Clapham Common with an unbroken stream of vehicles + of every sort—coaches with outriders, landaus, hansom cabs, + omnibuses, costers' spring carts and barrows. Every coach carried its + horn, and every horn was blown at the approach to every village. The sun + was hot, and the roads were rising to the horses' fetlocks in dust. Drake + was pointing out some of their travelling companions. That large coach + going by at a furious gallop was the coach of the Army and Navy Club; that + barouche with its pair of grays and its postilion belonged to a well-known + wine merchant; that carriage with its couple of leaders worth hundreds + apiece was the property of a prosperous publican; that was the coach which + usually ran between Northumberland Avenue and Virginia Water, and its + seats were let out at so much apiece, usually to clerks who practised + innocent frauds to escape from the city; those soldiers on the omnibus + were from Wellington Barracks on “Derby leave”; and those jolly tars with + their sweethearts, packed like herrings in a car, were the only true + sportsmen on the road and probably hadn't the price of a glass of rum on + any race of the day. Going by road to the Derby was almost a thing of the + past; smart people didn't often do it, but it was the best fun anyway, and + many an old sport tooled his team on the road still. + </p> + <p> + Glory grew brighter at every mile they covered. Everything pleased or + amused or astonished her. With the charm born of a vivid interest in life + she radiated happiness over all the company. Some glimpses of the country + girl came back, her soul thrilled to the beauty of the world around, and + she cried out like a child at sight of the chestnut and red hawthorn, and + at the scent of spring with which the air was laden. From time to time she + was recognised on the road, people raised their hats to her, and Drake + made no disguise of his beaming pride. He leaned back to Rosa, who was + sitting on the seat behind, and whispered, “Like herself to-day, isn't + she?” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't she be? With all the world at her feet and her future on + the knees of the gods!” said Rosa. + </p> + <p> + But a shade of sadness came over Glory's face, as if the gay world and its + amusements had not altogether filled a void that was left somewhere in her + heart. They were drawing up to water the horses at the old “Cock” at + Sutton, and a brown-faced woman with big silver earrings and a monster hat + and feather came up to the coach to tell the “quality” their fortunes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, let us, Glo,” cried Betty. “I'd love it of all things, doncher know.” + </p> + <p> + The gipsy had held out her hand to Glory. “Let me look at your palm, + pretty lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to cross it with silver first?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you kindly! But must I tell you the truth, lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Why yes, mother. Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're going to lose money to-day, lady; but never mind, you shall + be fortunate in the end, and the one you love shall be yours.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right,” cried the gentlemen in chorus. The ladies tittered, + and Glory turned to Drake and said, “A pair of gloves against Ellan + Vannin.” + </p> + <p> + “Done,” said Drake, and there was general laughter. + </p> + <p> + The gipsy still held Glory's hand, and looking up at Drake out of the + corner of her eyes, she said: “I won't tell you what colour he is, pretty + lady, but he is young and tall, and, though he is a gorgio, he is the kind + a Romany girl would die for. Much trouble you'll have with him, and + because of his foolishness and your own unkindness you'll put seven score + miles between you. You like to live your life, lady, and as men drown + their sorrows in drink, so do you drown yours in pleasure. But it will all + come right at last, lady, and those who envy and hate you now will kiss + the ground you walk on.” + </p> + <p> + “Glo,” said Betty, “I'm surprised at ye, dearest, listenin' to such + clipperty clapper.” + </p> + <p> + Glory did not recover her composure after this incident until they came + near the Downs. Meantime the grooms had blown their horns at many villages + hidden in the verdure of charming hollows, and the coaches had overtaken + the people who had left London earlier in the day to make the journey + afoot. Boy tramps, looking tired already—“Wish ye luck, gentlemen”; + fat sailors and mutilated colliers playing organs—'Twas in Trafalgar + Bay, and Come Whoam to thee Childer and Me; tatterdemalions selling the + C'rect Card-“on'y fourpence, and I've slep' out on the Downs last night, + s'elp me”—and all the ragged army of the maimed and the miserable + who hang on the edge of a carnival. + </p> + <p> + Among this wreckage, as they skimmed over it on the coach, there was one + figure more grotesque than the rest, a Polish Jew in his long kaftan and + his worn Sabbath hat, going along alone, triddle-traddle, in his slippers + without heels. Lord Robert was at the moment teasing Betty into a pet by + christening her “The Elephant,” in allusion to her stoutness. But somebody + called his attention to the Jew, and he screwed his glass to his eye and + cried, “Father Storm, by Jove!” + </p> + <p> + The nickname was taken up by other people on the coach, and also by people + on other coaches, and “Father Storm!” was thrown at the poor scarecrow as + a missile from twenty quarters at once. Glory's colour was rising to her + ears, and Drake was humming a tune to cover her confusion. But Betty was + asking, “Who was Father Storm, if you please?” and Lord Robert was saying, + “Bless my stars, this is something new, don't you know! Here's somebody + who doesn't know Father Storm! Father Storm, my dear Elephant, is the + prophet, the modern Jonah, who predicts that Nineveh—that is to say, + London—is to be destroyed this very day!” + </p> + <p> + “He must be balmy!” said Betty, and the lady in blue went into fits of + laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lord Robert, “and all because wicked men like ourselves insist + on enjoying ourselves on a day like this with pretty people like you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he <i>is</i> a cough-drop!” said Betty. The lady in blue asked what + was “balmy” and a “cough-drop,” and Lord Robert said: + </p> + <p> + “Betty means that the good Father is crazy—silly—stupid—cracked + in the head in short——” + </p> + <p> + But Glory could bear no more. It was an insult to John Storm to be sat + upon in judgment by such a woman. With a fiery jet of temper she turned + about and said, “Pity there are not more heads cracked, then, if it would + only let a little of the light of heaven into them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if it's like that——” began Betty, looking round + significantly, and Lord Robert said, “It <i>is</i> like that, dear + Elephant, and if our charming hurricane will pardon me, I'm not surprised + that the man has broken out as a Messiah, and if the authorities don't + intervene——” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, Robert!” cried Drake. “Listen, everybody!” + </p> + <p> + They were climbing on to the Downs and could hear the deep hum of the + people on the course. “My!” said Betty. “Well!” said the lady in blue. + “It's like a beehive with the lid off,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + As they passed the railway station the people who had come by train poured + into the road and the coach had to slow down. “They must have come from + the four winds of heaven,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, only wait!” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + Some minutes afterward everybody drew breath. They were on the top of the + common and had a full view of the course. It was a vast sea of human + beings stretched as far as the eye could reach—a black moving ocean + without a glimpse of soil or grass. The race track itself was a river of + people: the Grand Stand, tier on tier, was black from its lawns at the + bottom to its sloping gallery on top; and the “Hill” opposite was a rocky + coast of carriages, booths, carts, and clustering crowds. Glory's eyes + seemed to leap out of her head. “It's a nation!” she said with panting + breath. “An empire!” + </p> + <p> + They were diving into these breaking, plashing, plunging waters of human + life with their multitudinous voices of laughter and speech, and Glory was + looking at a dark figure in the hollow below which seemed to stand up + above the rest, when Drake cried: + </p> + <p> + “Sit hard, everybody! We'll take the hill at a gallop.” + </p> + <p> + Then to the crack of the whip, the whoop of the driver, and the blast of + the horn, the horses flew down like the wind. Betty screamed, Rosa + groaned, and Glory laughed and looked up at Drake in her delight. When the + coach drew up on the other side of the hollow, the bell was ringing at the + Grand Stand as signal for another race, and the dark figure had + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0067" id="link2H_4_0067"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <p> + That morning, when John Storm went to take seven-o'clock celebration, the + knocker-up with his long stick had not yet finished his rounds in the + courts and alleys about the church, but the costers with their barrows and + donkeys, their wives and their children, were making an early start for + Epsom. There were many communicants, and it was eight o'clock before he + returned to his rooms. By that time the postman had made his first + delivery and there was a letter from the Prime Minister. “Come to Downing + Street as soon as this reaches you. I must see you immediately.” + </p> + <p> + He ate his breakfast of milk and brown bread, said “Good-bye, Brother + Andrew, I shall be back for evening service,” whistled to the dog, and set + out into the streets. But a sort of superstitious fear had taken hold of + him, as if an event of supreme importance in his life was impending, and + before answering his uncle's summons he made a round of the buildings in + the vicinity which were devoted to the work of his mission. His first + visit was to the school. The children had assembled, and they were being + marshalled in order by the Sisters and prepared for their hymn and prayer. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Father.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, children.” + </p> + <p> + Many of them had presents for him—one a flower, another a biscuit, + another a marble, and yet another an old Christmas card. “God bless them, + and protect them!” he thought, and he left the school with a full heart. + </p> + <p> + His last visit was to the men's shelter which he had established under the + management of his former “organ man,” Mr. Jupe. It was a bare place, a + shed which had been a stable and was now floored and ceiled. Beds + resembling the bunks in the foc's'le of a ship lined the walls. When these + were full the lodgers lay on the ground. A blanket only was provided. The + men slept in their clothes, but rolled up their coats for pillows. There + was a stove where they might cook their food if they had money to buy any. + A ha'p'orth of tea and sugar mixed, a ha'p'orth of bread, and a ha'p'orth + of butter made a royal feast. + </p> + <p> + Going through the square in which his church stood he passed a smart gig + at the door of a public-house that occupied the corner of a street. The + publican in holiday clothes was stepping up to the driver's seat, and a + young soldier, smoking a cigarette, was taking the place by his side. + “Morning, Father, can you tip us the winner?” said the publican with a + grin, while the soldier, with an impudent smile, cried “Ta-ta” over his + shoulder to the second story of a tenement house, where a young woman with + a bloated and serious face and a head mopped up in curl-papers was looking + down from an open window. + </p> + <p> + It was nine o'clock when John Storm reached the Prime Minister's house. A + small crowd of people had followed him to the door. “His lordship is + waiting for you in the garden, sir,” said the footman, and John was + conducted to the back. + </p> + <p> + In a shady little inclosure between Downing Street and the Horse Guards + Parade the Prime Minister was pacing to and fro. His head was bent, his + step was heavy, he looked harassed and depressed. At sight of John's + monkish habit he started with surprise and faltered uneasily. But + presently, sitting by John's side on a seat under a tree, and keeping his + eyes away from him, he resumed their old relations and said: + </p> + <p> + “I sent for you, my boy, to warn you and counsel you. You must give up + this crusade. It is a public danger, and God knows what harm may come of + it! Don't suppose I do not sympathize with you. I do—to a certain + extent. And don't think I charge you with all the follies of this + ridiculous distemper. I have followed you and watched you, and I know that + ninety-nine hundredths of this madness is not yours. But in the eye of the + public you are responsible for the whole of it, and that is the way of the + world always. Enthusiasm is a good thing, my boy; it is the rainbow in the + heaven of youth, but it may go too far. It may be hurtful to the man who + nourishes it and dangerous to society. The world classes it with lunacy + and love and so forth among the nervous accidents of life; and the humdrum + healthy-minded herd always call that man a fool and a weakling or else a + fanatic and a madman, in whom the grand errors of human nature are due to + an effort—may I not say, a vain effort?—to live up to a great + ideal.” There were nervous twitchings over the muscles of John's face. + “Come, now, come, for the sake of peace and tranquillity, lest there + should be disorder and even death, let this matter rest. Think, my boy, + think, we are as much concerned for the world's welfare as you can be, and + we have higher claims and heavier responsibilities. I can not raise a hand + to help you, John. In the nature of things I can not defend you. I sent + for you because—because you are your mother's son. Don't cast on me + a heavier burden than I can bear. Save yourself and spare me.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish me to do, uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave London immediately and stay away until this tumult has settled + down.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is impossible, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite impossible, and though I did not make these predictions about the + destruction of London, yet I believe we are on the eve of a great change.” + </p> + <p> + “You do?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and if you had not sent for me I should have called on you, to ask + you to set aside a day for public prayer that God may in his mercy avert + the calamity that is coming or direct it to the salvation of his servants. + The morality of the nation is on the decline, uncle, and when morality is + lacking the end is not far off. England is given up to idleness, pomp, + dissolute practices, and pleasure—pleasure, always pleasure. The + vice of intemperance, the mania for gambling, these are the vultures that + are consuming the vitals of our people. Look at the luxury of the country—a + ludicrous travesty of national greatness! Look at the tastes and habits of + our age—the deadliest enemies of true religion! And then look at the + price we are paying in what the devil calls 'the priestesses of society' + for the tranquillity of the demon of lust!” + </p> + <p> + “But my boy, my dear boy——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, uncle, yes, I know, I know, many humanitarian schemes are afloat + and we think we are not indifferent to the condition of the poor. But + contrast the toiling women of East London with the idlers of Hyde Park in + a London season. Other nations have professed well with their lips while + their hearts have been set on wealth and pleasure. And they have fallen! + Yes, sir, in ancient Asia as well as in modern Europe they have always + fallen. And unless we unglue ourselves from the vanities which imperil our + existence we shall fall too. The lust of pleasure and the lust of wealth + bring their own revenges. In the nation as well as the individual the + Almighty destroys them as of old.” + </p> + <p> + “True—true!” + </p> + <p> + “Then how can I hold my peace or run away while it is the duty of + Christians, of patriots, to cry out against this danger? On the soul of + every one of us the duty rests, and who am I that I should escape from it? + Oh, if the Church only realized her responsibility, if she only kept her + eyes open——” + </p> + <p> + “She has powerful reasons for keeping them closed, my son,” said the + Minister, “and always will have until the Establishment is done away with. + It is coming to that some day, but meantime have a care. The clergy are + not your friends, John. Statesmen know too well the clerical cruelty which + shelters itself behind the secular arm. It is an old story, I think, and + you may find instances of that also in your ancient Palestine. But beware, + my boy, beware——” + </p> + <p> + “'Marvel not, my brethren, if the world hate you. Ye know that it hated me + before it hated you.'” + </p> + <p> + The exaltation of John's manner was increasing, and again the Prime + Minister became uneasy, as if fearing that the young monk by his side + would ask him next to kneel and pray. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well,” he said, rising, “I suppose there is no help for it, and + matters must take their own course.” Then he broke into other subjects, + talked of his brother, John's father, whom he had lately heard from. His + health was failing, he could not last very long; a letter from his son now + might make all things well. + </p> + <p> + John was silent, his head was down, but the Prime Minister could see that + his words took no effect. Then his bleak old face smiled a wintry smile as + he said: + </p> + <p> + “But you are not mending much in one way, my boy. Do you know you've never + once been here since the day you came to tell me you were to be married, + and intended to follow in the footsteps of Father Damien?” + </p> + <p> + John flinched, and the muscles of his face twitched nervously again. + </p> + <p> + “That was an impossible enterprise, John. No wonder the lady couldn't + suffer you to follow it. But she might have allowed you to see a lonely + old kinsman for all that.” John's pale face was breaking, and his breath + was coming fast. “Well, well,” taking his arm, “I'm not reproaching you, + John. There are passions of the soul which eat up all the rest, I know + that quite well, and when a man is under the sway of them he has neither + father nor uncle, neither kith nor kin. Good-bye! ... Ah, this way out—this + way.” + </p> + <p> + The footman had stepped up to the Minister and whispered something about a + crowd in front of the house, and John was passed out of the garden by the + back door into the park. + </p> + <p> + Three hours afterward the frequenters of Epsom racecourse saw a man in a + black cassock get up into an unoccupied wagonette and make ready to speak. + He was on the breast of “The Hill,” directly facing the Grand Stand, in a + close pack of carriages, four-in-hands, landaus, and hansoms, filled with + gaily dressed women in pink and yellow costumes, drinking champagne and + eating sandwiches, and being waited upon by footmen in livery. It was the + interval between two events of the race meeting, and beyond the labyrinth + of vehicles there was a line of betting men in outer garments of blue silk + and green alpaca, standing on stools under huge umbrellas and calling the + odds to motley crowds of sweltering people on foot. + </p> + <p> + “Men and women,” he began, and five thousand faces seemed to rise at the + sound of his voice. The bookmakers kept up their nasal cries of “I lay on + the field!” “Five to-one bar one!” But the crowd turned and deserted them. + “It's the Father,” “Father Storm,” the people said, with laughter and + chuckling, loose jests and some swearing, but they came up to him with one + accord until the space about, him, as far as to the roadway by which + carriages climbed the hill, was an unbroken pavement of rippling faces. + </p> + <p> + “Good old Father!” and then laughter. “What abart the end of the world, + old gel?” and then references to “the petticoats” and more laughter. + “'Ere, I'll 'ave five bob each way, Resurrection,” and shrieks of wilder + laughter still. + </p> + <p> + The preacher stood for some moments silent and unshaken. Then the quiet + dignity of the man and the love of fair play in the crowd secured him a + hearing. He began amid general silence: + </p> + <p> + “I don't know if it is contrary to regulations to stand here to speak, but + I am risking that for the urgency of the hour and message. Men and women, + you are here under false pretences. You pretend to yourselves and to each + other that you have come out of a love of sport, but you have not done so, + and you know it. Sport is a plausible pleasure; to love horses and take + delight in their fleetness is a pardonable vanity, but you are here to + practise an unpardonable vice. You have come to gamble, and your gambling + is attended by every form of intemperance and immorality. I am not afraid + to tell you so, for God has laid upon me a plain message, and I intend to + do my duty. These race-courses are not for horse-racing, but for + reservoirs of avarice and drunkenness and prostitution. Don't think”—he + was looking straight into the painted faces of the women in pink and + yellow, who were trying to smile and look amused—“don't think I am + going to abuse the unhappy girls who are forced by a corrupt civilization + to live by their looks. They are my friends, and half my own life is spent + among them. I have known some of them in whose hearts dwelt heavenly + purity, and when I think of what they have suffered from men I feel + ashamed that I am a man. But, my sisters, for you, too, I have an urgent + message. It is full summer with you now, as you sit here in your gay + clothes on this bright day; but the winter is coming for every one of you, + when there will be no more sunshine, no more luxury and pleasure and + flattery, and when the miry wallowers in troughs and stys, who are now + taking the best years of your lives from you——” + </p> + <p> + “Helloa there! Whoop! Tarara-ra-ra-rara!” + </p> + <p> + A four-in-hand coach was dashing headlong up the hill amid clouds of dust, + the rattling of wheels, the shouts of the driver and the blasts of the + horn, and the people who covered the roadway were surging forward to make + room for it. + </p> + <p> + “It's Gloria!” said everybody, looking up at the occupants of the coach + and recognising one of them. + </p> + <p> + The spell of the preacher was broken. He paused and turned his head and + saw Glory. She was sitting tall and bright and gay on the box-seat by the + side of Drake; the rays of the sun were on her and she was smiling up into + his face. + </p> + <p> + The preacher began again, then faltered, and then stopped. A bell at the + Grand Stand was ringing. “Numbers goin' up,” said everybody, and before + any one could be conscious of what was happening, John Storm was only a + cipher in the throng, and the crowd was melting away. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. + </h2> + <p> + The great carnival completely restored Glory's spirits. She laughed and + cried out constantly and lived from minute to minute like a child. + Everybody recognised her and nearly everybody saluted her. Drake beamed + with pride and delight. He took her about the course, answered her + questions, punctuated her jests, and explained everything, leaving Lord + Robert to entertain his guests. Who were “those dwellers in tents”? They + were the Guards' Club, and the service was also represented by artillery + men, king's hussars, and a line regiment from Aldershot. This was called + “The Hill,” where jovial rascaldom, usually swarmed, looking out for stray + overcoats and the lids of luncheon dishes left unprotected on carriages. + Yes, the pickpocket, the card-sharper, the “lumberer,” the confidence man, + the blarneying beggar, and the fakir of every description laid his snares + on this holy spot. In fact, this is his Sanctuary and he peddles under the + eye of the police. “Holy Land?” Ha, ha! “All the patriarchs out of the + Bible here?” Oh, the vociferous gentlemen with patriarchal names in + velveteen coats under the banners and canvas sign-boards—Moses, + Aaron, and so forth? They were the “bookies,” otherwise bookmakers, + generally Jews and sometimes Welshers. + </p> + <p> + “Here, come along, some of you sportsmen! I ain't made the price of my + railway fare, s'elp me!” “It's a dead cert, gents.” “Can't afford to buy + thick 'uns at four quid apiece!” “Five to one on the field!” “I lay on the + field!” + </p> + <p> + A “thick un?” Oh, that was a sovereign, half a thick un half a sovereign, + twenty-five pounds a “pony,” five hundred a “monkey,” flash notes were + “stumers,” and a bookmaker who couldn't pay was “a Welsher.” That? That + was “the great Brockton,” gentleman and tipster. “Amusement enough!” Yes, + niggers, harpists, Christy Minstrels, strong men, acrobats, agile clowns + and girls on stilts, and all the ragamuffins from “the Burrer,” bent on + “making a bit.” African Jungle? A shooting gallery with model lions and + bears. Fine Art Exhibition? A picture of the hanging of recent murderers. + Boxing Ring? Yes, for women—they strip to the waist and fight like + fiends. Then look at the lady auctioneer selling brass sovereigns a penny + apiece. + </p> + <p> + “Buy one, gentlemen, and see what they're like, so as the 'bookies' can't + pawse 'em on ye unawares!” + </p> + <p> + “Food enough!” Yes, at Margett's, Patton's, Hatton's, and “The Three + Brooms,” as well as the barrows for stewed eels, hard-boiled eggs, + trotters, coker-nuts, winkles, oysters, cockles, and all the luxuries of + the New Cut. Why were they calling that dog “Cookshop”? Because he was + pretty sure to go there in the end. + </p> + <p> + By this time they had ploughed over some quarter of a mile of the + hillside, fighting their way among the carriages that stood six deep along + the rails and through a seething mass of ruffianism, in a stifling + atmosphere polluted by the smell of ale and the reeking breath of tipsy + people. + </p> + <p> + “Whoo! I feel like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego rolled into one,” said + Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go into the Paddock,” said Drake, and they began to cross the race + track. + </p> + <p> + “But wasn't that somebody preaching as we galloped down the hill?” + </p> + <p> + “Was it? I didn't notice,” and they struggled through. + </p> + <p> + It was fresh and cool under the trees, and Glory thought it cheap even at + ten shillings a head to walk for ten minutes on green grass. Horses + waiting for their race were being walked about in clothes with their names + worked on the quarter sheets, and breeders, trainers, jockeys, and clerks + of the course mingled with gentlemen in silk hats and ladies in smart + costumes. + </p> + <p> + Drake's horse was a big bay colt, very thin, almost gaunt, and with long, + high-stepping legs. The trainer was waiting for a last word with his + owner. He was cool and confident. “Never better or fitter, Sir Francis, + and one of the grandest three-year-olds that ever looked through a bridle. + Improved wonderful since he got over his dental troubles, and does justice + to the contents of his manger. Capital field, sir, but it's got to run up + against summat smart to-day. Favourite, sir? Pooh! A coach horse! Not + stripping well—light in the flank and tucked up. But this colt fills + the eye as a first-class one should. Whatever beats him will win, sir, + take my word for that.” + </p> + <p> + And the jockey, standing by in his black-and-white-jacket, wagged his head + and said in a cheery whisper: “Have what ye like on 'im, Sir Francis. + Great horse, sir! Got a Derby in 'im or I'm a Slowcome.” + </p> + <p> + Drake laughed at their predictions, and Glory patted the creature while it + beat its white feet on the ground and the leather of its saddle squeaked. + The club stand from there? looked like a sea of foaming laces, feathers, + flowers, and sunshades. They turned to go to it, passing first by the + judge's box, whereof Drake explained the use, then through the Jockey Club + inclosure, which was full of peers, peeresses, judges, members of + Parliament, and other turfites, and finally through the betting ring where + some hundreds of betting men of the superior class proclaimed their + calling in loud voices and loud clothes and the gold letters on their + betting books. To one of these pencillers Drake said: + </p> + <p> + “What's the figure for Ellan Vannin?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten to one, market price, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take you in hundreds,” said Drake, and they struggled through the + throng. + </p> + <p> + Going up the stairs Glory said: “But wasn't the Archdeacon at your office + this morning? We saw him coming out of the square with Mr. Golightly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, did you? How hot it is to-day!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it? I feel as if I should like to play Ariel in gossamer—But + wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't trouble about that, Glory. It's an old, story that religious + intolerance likes to throw the responsibility of its acts on the civil + government.” + </p> + <p> + “Then John Storm——” + </p> + <p> + “He is in no danger yet—none whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how glorious!” They had reached the balcony, and Glory was pretending + that the change in her voice and manner came of delight at the sudden + view. She stood for a moment spellbound, and then leaned over the rail and + looked through the dazzling haze that was rising from the vast crowd + below. Not a foot of turf was to be seen for a mile around, save where at + the jockeys' gate a space was kept clear by the police. It was a moving + mass of humanity, and a low, indistinguishable murmur was coming up from + it such as the sea makes on the headlands above. + </p> + <p> + The cloud had died off Glory's face and her eyes were sparkling. “What a + wonderfully happy world it must be, after all!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Just then the standard was hoisted over the royal stand to indicate that + the Prince had arrived. Immediately afterward there was a silent movement + of hats on the lawns below the boxes, and then somebody down there began + to sing God save the Queen. The people on the Grand Stand took up the + chorus, then the people on the course joined in, then the people on “The + Hill,” until finally the whole multitude sang the national hymn in a voice + that was like the voice of an ocean. + </p> + <p> + Glory's eyes were now full of tears, she was struggling with a desire to + cry aloud, and Drake, who was watching her smallest action, stood before + her to screen her from the glances of gorgeously attired ladies who were + giggling and looking through lorgnettes. The fine flower of the + aristocracy was present in force, and the club stand was full of the great + ladies who took an interest in sport and even kept studs of their own. + Oriental potentates were among them in suits of blue and gold, and the + French language was being spoken on all sides. + </p> + <p> + Glory attracted attention and Drake's face beamed with delight. An + illustrious personage asked to be introduced to her, and said he had seen + her first performance and predicted her extraordinary success. She did not + flinch. There was a slight tremor, a scarcely perceptible twitching of the + lip, and then she bore her honours as if she had been born to them. The + Prince entertained a party to luncheon, and Drake and Glory were invited + to join it. All the smart people were there, and they looked like a + horticultural exhibition of cream colour and rose pink and gray. Glory + kept watching the great ones of the earth, and she found them very + amusing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think?” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “I think most people at the Derby must have the wrong make-up on. That + gentleman, now—he ought to be done up as a stable-boy. And that lady + in mauve—she's a ballet girl really, only——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, for Heaven's sake!” But Glory whispered, “Let's go round the corner + and laugh.” + </p> + <p> + She sat between Drake and a ponderous gentleman with a great beard like a + waterfall. + </p> + <p> + “What are the odds against the colt, Drake?” + </p> + <p> + Drake answered, and Glory recalled herself from her studies and said, “Oh, + yes, what did you say it was?” + </p> + <p> + “A prohibitive price—for you.” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! I'm going to do a flutter on my own, you know, and plunge + against you.” + </p> + <p> + It was explained to her that only bookmakers bet against horses, but the + gentleman with the beard volunteered to reverse positions, and take + Glory's ten to one against Ellan Vannin. + </p> + <p> + “In what?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—h'm—in thick 'uns, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is the meaning of this running after strange gods?” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, sir! Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, you know——” + and then the bell rang for the race of the day, and they scurried back to + the Stand. The numbers were going up and a line of fifty policemen abreast + were clearing the course. Some of the party had come over from the coach, + and Lord Robert was jotting down in a notebook the particulars of betting + commissions for his fair companions. + </p> + <p> + “And am I to be honoured with a commission from the Hurricane?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; what's the price for Ellan Vannin?” + </p> + <p> + “Come down to five to one, pretty lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Get me one to five that he's going to lose.” + </p> + <p> + “But what in the world are you doing, Glory?” said Drake. His eyes were + dancing with delight. + </p> + <p> + “Running a race with that old man in the box which can find a loser + first.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the horses were sent out for the preliminary canter and + parade before the royal stand, and a tingling electrical atmosphere seemed + to come from somewhere and set every tongue wagging. It seemed as if + something unexpected was about to occur, and countless eyes went up to the + place where Drake stood with Glory by his side. He was outwardly calm, but + with a proud flush under his pallor; she was visibly excited, and could + not stand on the same spot for many seconds together. By this time the + noise made by the bookmakers in the inclosure below was like that of ten + thousand sea fowl on a reef of rock, and Glory was trying to speak above + the deafening clangour. + </p> + <p> + “Silver and gold have I none, but if I had—what's that?” + </p> + <p> + A white flag had fallen as signal for the start, there was a hollow roar + from the starting post, and people were shouting, “They're off!” Then + there was a sudden silence, a dead hush—below, above, around, + everywhere, and all eyes, all glasses, all lorgnettes were turned in the + direction of the runners. + </p> + <p> + The horses got well away and raced up the hill like cavalry charging in + line; then at the mile post the favourite drew to the front, and the + others went after him in an indistinguishable mass. But the descent seemed + not to his liking; he twisted a good deal, and the jockey was seen sawing + the reins and almost hanging over the horse's head. When the racers swung + round Tattenham Corner and came up like mice in the distance, it was seen + that another horse had taken advantage of an opening and was overhauling + the favourite with a tremendous rush. His colours were white and black. It + was Ellan Vannin. From that moment Drake's horse never relinquished his + advantage, but came down the straight like a great bird with his wings + ceasing to flap, passed the Stand amid great excitement, and won + handsomely by a length. + </p> + <p> + Then in the roar of delight that went up from the crowd Glory, with her + hand on Drake's shoulder, was seen to be crying, laughing, and cheering at + the same moment. + </p> + <p> + “But <i>you've</i> lost,” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother that!” she said, and when the jockey had slipped from his + saddle, and Drake had taken his horse into the weighing-room and the “All + right!” was shouted, she started the cheering again and said she meant to + make a dead heat of it with Tennyson's brook. + </p> + <p> + “But why did you bet against me?” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “You silly boy,” she answered with a crow of happiness and gaiety, “didn't + the gipsy tell me I should lose money to-day? And how could I bet on your + horse unless you lost the race?” + </p> + <p> + Drake laughed merrily at her delicious duplicity and could hardly resist + an impulse to take her in his arms and kiss her. Meantime his friends were + slapping him on the back and people were crushing up to offer him + congratulations. He turned to take his horse into the Paddock, and Lord + Robert took Glory down after him. The trainer and jockey were there, + looking proud and happy, and Drake, with a pale and triumphant face, was + walking the great creature about as if reluctant to part with it. It was + breathing heavily, and sweat stood in drops on its throat, head, and ears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you beauty! How I should love to ride you!” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “But dare you?” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “Dare I! Only give me the chance.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, by——I will, or it won't be my fault.” + </p> + <p> + Somebody brought champagne and Glory had to drink a bumper to “the best + horse of the century, bar none.” Then her glass was filled afresh and she + had to drink to the owner, “the best fellow on earth, bar none,” and again + she was compelled to drink “to the best bit of history ever made at Epsom, + bar none.” With that she was excused while the men drank at Drake's + proposal “to the loveliest, liveliest, leeriest little woman in the world, + God bless her!” and she hid her face in her hands and said with a merry + laugh: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me when it's over, boys, and I'll come again.” + </p> + <p> + After Drake had despatched telegrams and been bombarded by interviewers, + he led the way back to the coach on the Hill, and the company prepared for + their return. The sun had now gone, a thick veil of stagnant clouds had + gathered over it, the sky looked sulky, and Glory's head tad begun to ache + between the eyes. Rosa was to go home by train in order to reach her + office early, and Glory half wished to accompany her. But an understudy + was to play her part that night and she had no excuse. The coach wormed + its way through the close pack of vehicles at the top of the Hill and + began to follow the ebbing tide of humanity back to London. + </p> + <p> + “But what about my pair of gloves?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're a hard man, reaping where you have not sowed and gathering——” + </p> + <p> + “There, then, we're quits,” said Drake, leaning over from the box seat and + snatching a kiss of her. It was now clear that he had been drinking a good + deal. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. + </h2> + <p> + Before the race had been run, a solitary man with a dog at his heels had + crossed the Downs on his way back to the railway station. Jealousy and + rage possessed his heart between them, but he would not recognise these + passions; he believed his emotions to be horror and pity and shame. John + Storm had seen Glory on the race-course, in Drake's company, under Drake's + protection: he proud and triumphant, she bright and gay and happy. + </p> + <p> + “O Lord, help me! Help me, O Lord!” + </p> + <p> + “And now, dragging along the road, in his mind's eye he saw her again as + the victim of this man, his plaything, his pastime to takeup or leave—no + better than any of the women about her, and where they were going she + would go also. Some day he would find her where he had found others—outcast, + deserted, forlorn, lost; down in the trough of life, a thing of loathing + and contempt! + </p> + <p> + “O Lord, help her! Help her, O Lord!” + </p> + <p> + There were few passengers by the train going back to London, nearly all + traffic at this hour being the other way, and there was no one else in the + compartment he occupied. He threw himself down in a corner, consumed with + indignation and a strange sense of dishonour. Again he saw her bright + eyes, her red lips—the glow of her whole radiant face and a paroxysm + of jealousy tore his heart to pieces. Glory was his. Though a bottomless + abyss was yawning between them, her soul belonged to him, and a great + upheaval of hatred for the man who possessed her body surged up to his + throat. Against all this his pride as well as his religion rebelled. He + crushed it down, and tried to turn his mind to another current of ideas. + How could he save her? If she should go down to perdition, his remorse + would be worse to bear than flames of fire and brimstone. The more + unworthy she was, the more reason he should strive to rescue her soul from + the pangs of eternal torment. + </p> + <p> + The rattling of the carriage broke in upon these visions, and he got up + and paced to and fro like a bear in a cage. And, like a bear with its + slow, strong grip, he seemed to be holding her in his wrath and saying: + “You shall not destroy yourself; you shall not, you shall not, for I, I, I + forbid it!” Then he sank back in his seat, exhausted by the conflict which + made his soul a battlefield of spiritual and sensual passions. Every limb + shook and quivered. He began to be afraid of himself, and he felt an + impulse to fly away somewhere. When he alighted at Victoria his teeth were + chattering, although the atmosphere was stifling and the sky was now heavy + with black and lowering clouds. + </p> + <p> + To avoid the eyes of the people who usually followed him in the streets, + he cut through a narrow thoroughfare and went back to Brown's Square by + way of the park. But the park was like a vast camp. Thousands of people + seemed to cover the grass as far as the eye could reach, and droves of + workmen, followed by their wives and children, were trudging to other open + spaces farther out. It was the panic terror. Afterward it was calculated + that fifty thousand persons from all parts of London had quitted the + doomed city that day to await the expected catastrophe under the open sky. + </p> + <p> + The look of fierce passion had faded from his face by the time he reached + his church, but there another ordeal awaited him. Though it still wanted + an hour of the time of evening service a great crowd had gathered in the + square. He tried to escape observation, but the people pressed upon him, + some to shake his hand, others to touch his cassock, and many to kneel at + his feet and even to cover them with kisses. With a sense of shame and + hypocrisy he disengaged himself at length, and joined Brother Andrew in + the sacristy. The simple fellow was full of marvellous stories. There had + been wondrous manifestations of the workings of the Holy Spirit during the + day. The knocker-up, who was a lame man, had shaken hands with the Father + on his way home that morning, and now he had thrown away his stick and was + walking firmly and praising God. + </p> + <p> + The church was large and rectangular and plain, and looked a well-used + edifice, open every day and all day. The congregation was visibly excited, + but the service appeared to calm them. The ritual was full, with + procession and incense, but without vestments, and otherwise monastic in + its severity. John Storm preached. The epistle for the day had been from + First Corinthians, and he took his text from that source also: “Deliver + him up to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be + saved in the day of the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + People said afterward that they had never heard anything like that sermon. + It was delivered in a voice that was low and tremulous with emotion. The + subject was love. Love was the first inheritance that God had given to his + creatures—the purest and highest, the sweetest and best. But man had + degraded and debased it, at the temptation of Satan and the lust of the + world. The expulsion of our first parents from Eden was only the poetic + figure of what had happened through all the ages. It was happening now—and + London, the modern Sodom, would as surely pay its penalty as did the + cities of the ancient East. No need to think of flood or fire or tempest—of + any given day or hour. The judgment that would fall on England, like the + plagues that fell on Egypt, would be of a kind with the offence. She had + wronged the spirit of love, and who knows but God would punish her by + taking out of the family of man the passion by which she fell, lifting it + away with all that pertained to it—good and bad, spiritual and + sensual, holy and corrupt? + </p> + <p> + The burning heat clouds of the day seemed to have descended into the + church, and in the gathering darkness the preacher, his face just visible, + with its eyes full of smouldering fire, drew an awful picture of the world + under the effects of such a curse. A place without unselfishness, without + self-sacrifice, without heroism, without chivalry, without loyalty, + without laughter, and without children! Every man standing alone, + isolated, self-centred, self-cursed, outlawed, loveless, marriageless, + going headlong to degeneracy and death! Such might be God's punishment on + this cruel and wicked city for its sensual sins. + </p> + <p> + Then the preacher lost control of his imagination and swept his hearers + along with him as he fabricated horrible fancies. The people were + terror-stricken, and not until the last hymn was given out did they + recover the colour of their blanched faces. Then they sang as with one + voice, and after the benediction had been pronounced and they were surging + down the aisles in close packs, they started the hymn again. + </p> + <p> + Even when they had left the church they could not disperse. Out in the + square were the thousands who had not been able to get inside the doors, + and every moment the vast proportions of the crowd were swelled. The + ground was covered, the windows round about were thrown up and full of + faces, and people had clambered on to the railings of the church, and even + on to the roofs of the houses. + </p> + <p> + Somebody went to the sacristy and told the Father what was happening + outside. He was now like a man beside himself, and going out on to the + steps of the church where he could be seen by all, he lifted his hands and + pronounced a prayer in a sonorous and fervent voice: + </p> + <p> + “How long, O Lord, how long? From the bosom of God, where thou reposest, + look down on the world where thou didst walk as a man. Didst thou not + teach us to pray 'Thy kingdom come'? Didst thou not say thy kingdom was + near; that some who stood with thee should not taste of death till they + had seen it come with power; that when it came the poor should be blessed, + the hungry should be fed, the blind should see, the heavy-laden should + find rest, and the will of thy Father should be done on earth even as it + is done in heaven? But nigh upon two thousand years lave gone, O Lord, and + thy kingdom hath not come. In thy name now doth the Pharisee give alms in + the streets to the sound of a trumpet going before him. In thy name now + doth the Levite pass by on the other side when a man has fallen among + thieves. In thy name now doth the priest buy and sell the glad tidings of + the kingdom, giving for the gospel of God the commandments of men, living + in rich men's houses, faring sumptuously every day, praying with his lips, + 'Give us this day our daily bread,' but saying to his; soul: 'Soul, thou + hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and + be merry.' How long, O Lord, how long?” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had John Storm stepped back when the heavy clouds broke into + mutterings of thunder. So low were the sounds at first that in the general + tumult they were scarcely noticed; but they came again and again, louder + and louder with every fresh reverberation, and then the excitement of the + people became intense and terrible. It was as if the heavens themselves + had spoken to give sign and assurance of the calamity that had been + foretold. + </p> + <p> + First a woman began to scream as if in the pains of labour. Then a young + girl cried out for mercy, and accused herself of countless and nameless + offences. Then the entire crowd seemed to burst into sobs and moans and + agonizing expressions of despair, mingled with shouts of wild laughter and + mad thanksgiving. “Pardon, pardon!” “O Jesus, save me!” “O Saviour of + sinners!” “O God, have mercy upon me!” “O my heart, my heart!” Some threw + themselves on the ground, stiff and motionless and insensible as dead men. + Others stood over the stricken people and prayed for their relief from the + power of Satan. Others fell into convulsions, and yet others, with wild + and staring eyes, rejoiced in their own salvation. + </p> + <p> + It was now almost dark and some of the people who had been out to the + Derby were returning home in their gigs and coster's carts, laughing, + singing, and nearly all of them drunk. There were wild encounters. A young + soldier (it was Charlie Wilkes) came upon Pincher the pawnbroker. “Wot + tcher, myte? Wot's yer amoosemint now?” + </p> + <p> + “Silence, you evil liver, you gambler, you son of Belial!” + </p> + <p> + “Stou thet now—d'ye want a kepple er black eyes or a pench on the + nowze?” + </p> + <p> + At nine o'clock the police of Westminster, being unable to disperse the + crowd, seat to Scotland Yard for the mounted constabulary. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. + </h2> + <p> + Meantime the man who was the first cause of the tumult sat alone in his + cell-like chamber under the church, a bare room without carpet or rug, and + having no furniture except a block bed, a small washstand, two chairs, a + table, a prayer stool and crucifix, and a print of the Virgin and Child. + He heard the singing of the people outside, but it brought him neither + inspiration nor comfort. Nature could no longer withstand the strain he + had put upon it, and he was in deep dejection. It was one of those moments + of revulsion which comes to the strongest soul when at the crown or near + the crown of his expectations he asks himself, “What is the good?” A flood + of tender recollections was coming over him. He was thinking of the past, + the happy past, the past of love and innocence which he had spent with + Glory, of the little green isle in the Irish Sea, and of all the sweetness + of the days they had passed together before she had fallen to the + temptations of the world and he had become the victim of his hard if lofty + fate. Oh, why had he denied himself the joys that came to all others? To + what end had he given up the rewards of life which the poorest and the + weakest and the meanest of men may share? Love, woman's love, why had he + turned his back upon it? Why had he sacrificed himself? O God, if, indeed, + it were all in vain! + </p> + <p> + Brother Andrew put his head in at the half-open door. His brother, the + pawnbroker, was there and had something to say to the Father. Pincher's + face looked over Andrew's shoulder. The muscles of the man's eyes were + convulsed by religious mania. + </p> + <p> + “I've just sold my biziness, sir, and we 'aven't a roof to cover us now!” + he cried, in the tone of one who had done something heroic. + </p> + <p> + John asked him what was to become of his mother. + </p> + <p> + “Lor', sir, ain't it the beginning of the end? That's the gawspel, ain't + it? 'The foxes hev 'oles and the birds of the air hev nests——'” + </p> + <p> + And then close behind the man, interrupting him and pushing him aside, + there came another with fixed and staring eyes, crying: “Look 'ere, + Father! Look! Twenty years I 'obbled on a stick, and look at me now! + Praise the Lawd, I'm cured, en' no bloomin' errer! I'm a brand as was + plucked from the burnin' when my werry ends 'ad caught the flames! Praise + the Lawd, amen!” + </p> + <p> + John rebuked them and turned them out of the room, but he was almost in as + great a frenzy. When he had shut the door his mind went back to thoughts + of Glory. She, too, was hurrying to the doom that was coming on all this + wicked city. He had tried to save her from it, but he had failed. What + could he do now? He felt a desire to do something, something else, + something extraordinary. + </p> + <p> + Sitting on the end of the bed he began again to recall Glory's face as he + had seen it at the race-course. And now it came to him as a shock after + his visions of her early girlhood. He thought there was a certain + vulgarity in it which, he had not observed before—a slight + coarsening of its expression, an indescribable degeneracy even under the + glow of its developed beauty. With her full red lips and curving throat + and dancing eyes, she was smiling into the face of the man who was sitting + by her side. Her smile was a significant smile, and the bright and eager + look with which the man answered it was as full of meaning. He could read + their thoughts. What had happened? Were all barriers broken down? Was + everything understood between them? + </p> + <p> + This was the final madness, and he leaped to his feet in an outburst of + uncontrollable rage. All at once he shuddered with a feeling that + something terrible was brewing within him. He felt cold, a shiver was + running over his whole body. But the thought he had been in search of had + come to him of itself. It came first as a shock, and with a sense of + indescribable dread, but it had taken hold of him and hurried him away. He + had remembered his text: “Deliver him up to Satan for the destruction of + the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he thought; “it is in the Holy Book itself. There is the + authority of St. Paul for it. Clearly the early Christians countenanced + and practised such things.” But then came a spasm of physical pain. That + beautiful life, so full of love and loveliness, radiating joy and + sweetness and charm! The thing was impossible! It was monstrous! “Am I + going mad?” he asked himself. + </p> + <p> + And then he began to be sorry for himself as well as for Glory. How could + he live in the world without her? Although he had lost her, although an + impassable gulf divided them, although he had not seen her for six months + until today, yet it was something to know she was alive and that he could + go at night to the place where she was and look up and think, “She is + there.” “It is true, I am going mad,” he thought, and he trembled again. + </p> + <p> + His mind oscillated among these conflicting ideas, until the more hideous + thought returned to him of Drake and the smile exchanged with Glory. Then + the blood rushed to his head, and strong emotions paralyzed his reason. + When he asked himself if it was right in England and in the nineteenth + century to contemplate a course which might have been proper to Palestine + and the first century, the answer came instantaneously that it <i>was</i> + right. Glory was in peril. She was tottering on the verge of hell. It + would not be wrong, but a noble duty, to prevent the possibility of such a + hideous catastrophe. Better a life ended than a life degraded and a soul + destroyed. + </p> + <p> + On this the sophism worked. It was true that he would lose her; she would + be gone from him, she who was all his joy, his vision by day, his dream by + night. But could he be so selfish as to keep her in the flesh, and thus + expose her soul to eternal torment? And after all she would be his in the + other world, his forever, his alone. Nay, in this world also, for being + dead he would love her still. “But, O God, must <i>I</i> do it?” he asked + himself at one moment, and at the next came his answer: “Yes, yes, for I + am God's minister.” + </p> + <p> + That sent him back to his text again. “Deliver him up to <i>Satan</i>——” + But there was a marginal reference to Timothy, and he turned it up with a + trembling hand. <i>Satan</i> again, but the Revised Version gave “the + Lord's servant,” and thus the text should read, “Deliver him up to the + Lord's servant for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be + saved in the day of the Lord.” This made him cry out. He drank it in with + inebriate delight. The thing was irrevocably decided. He was justified, he + was authorized, he was the instrument of a fixed purpose. No other + consideration could move him now. + </p> + <p> + By this time his heart and temples were beating violently, and he felt as + if he were being carried up into a burning cloud. Before his eyes rose the + vision of Isaiah, the meek lamb converted into an inexorable avenger + descending from the summit of Edom. It was right to shed blood at the + divine command—nay, it was necessary, it was inevitable. And as God + had commanded Abraham to take the life of Isaac, whom he loved, so did God + call on him, John Storm, to take the life of Glory that he might save her + from the risk of everlasting damnation! + </p> + <p> + There may have been intervals in which his sense of hearing left him, for + it was only now that he became conscious that somebody was calling to him + from the other side of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Is anybody there?” he asked, and a voice replied: + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart, yes, this five minutes and better, but I didna dare come in, + thinking surely there was somebody talking with you. Is there no somebody + here then? No?” + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs. Callender, who was carrying a small glad-stone bag. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, it's myself, and sorry I am to be bringing bad news to you.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked, but his tone betrayed complete indifference. + </p> + <p> + She closed the door and answered in a whisper: “A warrant! I much misdoubt + but there's one made out for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, what does the man want? But come, laddie, come; you must tak' + yoursel' off to some spot till the storm blows over.” + </p> + <p> + “I have work to do, auntie.” + </p> + <p> + “Work! You've worked too much already—that's half the botherment.” + </p> + <p> + “God's work, auntie, and it must be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Then God will do it himself, without asking the life of a good man, or + he's no just what I've been takin' him for. But see,” opening the bag and + whispering again, “your auld coat and hat! I found them in your puir auld + room that you'll no come back to. You've been looking like another body so + long that naebody will ken you when you're like yoursel' again. Come, now, + off with these lang, ugly things——” + </p> + <p> + “I can not go, auntie.” + </p> + <p> + “Can not?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not. While God commands me I will do my duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, but men are kittle cattle! I've often called you my ain son, but if I + were your ain mother I ken fine what I'd do with you—I'd just slap + you and mak' you. I'll leave the clothes, anyway. Maybe you'll be thinking + better of it when I'm gone. Good-night to you. Your puir head's that hot + and moidered—-But what's wrang with you, John, man? What's come over + ye anyway?” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be hardly conscious of her presence, and after standing a + moment at the door, looking back at him with eyes of love and pity, she + left the room. + </p> + <p> + He had been asking himself for the first time how he was to carry out his + design. Sitting on the end of the bed with his head propped on his hand he + felt as if he were in the hold of a great ship, listening to the plash and + roar of the stormy sea outside. The excitement of the populace was now + ungovernable and the air was filled with groans and cries. He would have + to pass through the people, and they would see him and detain him, or + perhaps follow him. His impatience was now feverish. The thing he had to + do must be done to-night, it must be done immediately. But it was + necessary in the first place to creep out unseen. How was he to do it? + </p> + <p> + When he came to himself he had a vague sense of some one wishing him + good-night. “Oh, good-night, good-night!” he cried with an apologetic + gesture. But he was alone in the room, and on turning about he saw the bag + on the floor, and remembered everything. Then a strange thing happened. + Two conflicting emotions took hold of him at once—the first an + enthusiastic, religious ecstasy, the other a low, criminal cunning. + </p> + <p> + Everything was intended. He was only the instrument of a fixed purpose. + These clothes were proof of it. They came to his hand at the very moment + when they were wanted, when nothing else would have helped him. And Mrs. + Callender had been the blind agent in a higher hand to carry out the + divine commands. Fly away and hide himself? God did not intend it. A + warrant? No matter if it sent him like Cranmer to the stake. But this was + a different thing entirely, this was God's will and purpose, this—— + </p> + <p> + Yet even while thinking so he laughed an evil laugh, tore the clothes out + of the bag with trembling hands, and made ready to put them on. He had + removed his cassock when some one opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Who's there?” he cried in a husky growl. + </p> + <p> + “Only me,” said a timid voice, and Brother Andrew entered, looking pale + and frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you! Come in; close the door; I've something to say to you. Listen! + I'm going out, and I don't know when I shall be back. Where's the dog?” + </p> + <p> + “In the passage, brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Chain him up at the back, lest he should get out and follow me. Put this + cassock away, and if anybody asks for me say you don't know where I've + gone—you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but are you well, Brother Storm? You look as if you had just been + running.” + </p> + <p> + There was a hand-glass on the washstand, and John snatched it up and + glanced into it and put it down again instantly. His nostrils were + quivering, his eyes were ablaze, and the expression of his face was + shocking. + </p> + <p> + “What are they doing outside? See if I can get away without being + recognised,” and Brother Andrew went out to look. + </p> + <p> + The passage from the chambers under the church was into a dark and narrow + street at the back, but even there a group of people had gathered, + attracted by the lights in the windows. Their voices could be heard + through the door which Brother Andrew had left ajar, and John stood behind + it and listened. They were talking of himself—praising him, blessing + him, telling stories of his holy life and gentleness. + </p> + <p> + Brother Andrew reported that most of the people were at the front, and + they were frantic with religious excitement. Women were crushing up to the + rail which the Father had leaned his head upon for a moment after he had + finished his prayer, in order to press their handkerchiefs and shawls on + it. + </p> + <p> + “But nobody would know you now, Brother Storm—even your face is + different.” + </p> + <p> + John laughed again, but he turned off the lights, thinking to drive away + the few who were still lingering in the back street. The ruse succeeded. + Then the man of God went out on his high errand, crept out, stole out, + sneaked out, precisely as if he had been a criminal on his way to commit a + crime. + </p> + <p> + He followed the lanes and narrow streets and alleys behind the Abbey, past + the “Bell,” the “Boar's Head,” and the “Queen's Arms”—taverns that + have borne the same names since the days when Westminster was Sanctuary. + People home from the races were going into them with their red ties awry, + with sprigs of lilac in their buttonholes; and oak leaves in their hats. + The air was full of drunken singing, sounds of quarrelling, shameful words + and curses. There were some mutterings of thunder and occasional flashes + of lightning, and over all there was the deep hum of the crowd in the + church square. + </p> + <p> + Crossing the bottom of Parliament Street he was almost run down by a + squadron of mounted police who were trotting into Broad Sanctuary. To + escape observation he turned on to the Embankment and walked under the + walls of the gardens of Whitehall, past the back of Charing Cross station + to the street going up from the Temple. + </p> + <p> + The gate of Clement's Inn was closed, and the porter had to come out of + his lodge to open it. + </p> + <p> + “The Garden House!” + </p> + <p> + “Garden House, sir? Inner court left-hand corner.” + </p> + <p> + John passed through. “That will be remembered afterward,” he thought. “But + no matter—it will all be over then.” + </p> + <p> + And coming out of the close streets, with their clatter of traffic, into + the cool gardens, with their odour of moistened grass, the dull glow in + the sky, and the glimpse of the stars through the tree-tops, his mind went + back by a sudden bound to another night, when he had walked over the same + spot with Glory. At that there came a spasm of tenderness, and his throat + thickened. He could almost see her, and feel her by his side, with her + fragrant freshness and buoyant step. “O God! must I do it, must I, must + I?” he thought again. + </p> + <p> + But another memory of that night came back to him; he heard Drake's voice + as it floated over the quiet place. Then the same upheaval of hatred which + he had felt before he felt again. The man was the girl's ruin; he had + tempted her by love of dress, of fame, of the world's vanities and follies + of every sort. This made him think for the first time of how he might find + her. He might find her with <i>him</i>. They would come back from the + Derby together. He would bring her home, and they would sup in company. + The house would be lit up; the windows thrown open; they would be playing + and singing and laughing, and the sounds of their merriment would come + down to him into the darkness below. + </p> + <p> + All the better, all the better! He would do it before the man's face. And + when it was done, when all was over, when she lay there—lay there—there—he + would turn on the man and say: “Look at her, the sweetest girl that ever + breathed the breath of life, the dearest, truest woman in all the world! + You have done that—you—you—you—and God damn you!” + </p> + <p> + His tortured heart was afire, and his brain was reeling. Before he knew + where he was he had passed from the outer court into the inner one. “Here + it is—this is the house,” he thought. But it was all dark. Just a + few lights burning, but they had been carefully turned down. The windows + were closed, the blinds were drawn, and there was not a sound anywhere! He + stood some minutes trying to think, and during that time the mood of + frenzy left him and the low cunning came back. Then he rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer, so he rang again. After a while he heard a footstep + that seemed to come up from below. Still the door was not opened, and he + rang a third time. + </p> + <p> + “Who's there?” said a voice within. + </p> + <p> + “It is I—open the door,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” said the voice, and he replied impatiently: + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Liza, open, and see.” + </p> + <p> + Then the catch lock was shot back. At the next moment he was in the hall, + shutting the door behind him, and Liza was looking up into his face with + eyes of mingled fear and relief. + </p> + <p> + “Lor', sir, whyever didn't you say it was you?” + </p> + <p> + “Where's your mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone to the office, and won't be back till morning. And Miss Gloria isn't + home from the races yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I must see her to-night—I'll wait upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me, sir—Farver, I mean—but I wouldn't a-known + your voice, it seemed so different. And me that sleepy too, being on the + go since six in the mornin'——” + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed, Liza. You sleep in the kitchen, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, thank you, I think I will, too. Miss Gloria can let herself in, + anyway, same as comin' from the theatre. But can I git ye anythink? No? + Well, you know your wye up, sir, down't ye?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; good-night, Liza!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Farver!” + </p> + <p> + He had set his foot on the stair to go up to the drawing-room when it + suddenly occurred to him that though he was the minister of God he was + using the weapons of the devil. No matter! If he had been about to commit + a crime it would have been different. But this was no crime, and he was no + criminal. He was the instrument of God's mercy to the woman he loved. <i>He + was going to slay her body that he might save her soul!</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. + </h2> + <p> + The journey home from the Derby had been a long one, but Glory had enjoyed + it. When she had settled down to the physical discomfort of the blinding + and choking dust, the humours of the road became amusing. This endless + procession of good-humoured ruffianism sweeping through the most sacred + retreats of Nature, this inroad of every order of the Stygian <i>demi-monde</i> + on to the slopes of Olympus, was intensely interesting. Men and women + merry with drink, all laughing, shouting, and singing; some in fine + clothes and lounging in carriages, others in striped jerseys and yellow + cotton dresses, huddled up on donkey barrows; some smoking cigarettes and + cigars and drinking champagne, others smoking clay pipes with the bowls + downward, and flourishing bottles of ale; some holding rhubarb leaves over + their heads for umbrellas, and pelting the police with <i>confetti</i>; + others wearing executioners' masks, false mustaches, and red-tipped noses, + and blowing bleating notes out of penny trumpets—but all one family, + one company, one class. + </p> + <p> + There were ghastly scenes as well as humorous ones—an old horse, + killed by the day's work and thrown into the ditch by the roadside, + axletrees broken by the heavy loads and people thrown out of their carts + and cut, boy tramps dragging along like worn-out old men, and a Welsher + with his clothes torn to ribbons, stealing across the fields to escape a + yelping and infuriated crowd. + </p> + <p> + But the atmosphere was full of gaiety, and Glory laughed at nearly + everything. Lord Robert, with his arm about Betty's waist, was chaffing a + coster who had a drunken woman on his back seat. “Got a passenger, + driver?” “Yuss, sir, and I'm agoin' 'ome to my wife to-night, and thet's + more nor you dare do.” A young fellow in pearl buttons was tramping along + with a young girl in a tremendous hat. He snatched her hat off, she + snatched off his; he kissed her, she smacked his face; he put her hat on + his own head, she put on his hat; and then they linked arms and sang a + verse of the Old Dutch. + </p> + <p> + Glory reproduced a part of this love-passage in pantomime, and Drake + screamed with laughter. + </p> + <p> + It was seven o'clock before they reached the outskirts of London. By that + time a hamper on the coach had been emptied and the bottles thrown out; + the procession had drawn up at a dozen villages on the way; the perspiring + tipsters, with whom “things hadn't panned out well,” had forgotten their + disappointments and “didn't care a tinker's! cuss”; every woman in a + barrow had her head-gear in confusion, and she was singing in a drunken + wail. Nevertheless Drake, who was laughing and talking constantly, said it + was the quietest Derby night he had ever seen, and he couldn't tell what + things were coming to. + </p> + <p> + “Must be this religious mania, don't you know,” said lord Robert, pointing + to a new and very different scene which they had just then come upon. + </p> + <p> + It was an open space covered with people, who had lit fires as if + intending to camp out all night, and were now gathered in many groups, + singing hymns and praying. The drunken wails from the procession stopped + for a moment, and there was nothing heard but the whirring wheels and the + mournful notes of the singers. Then “Father Storm!” rose like the cry of a + cormorant from a thousand throats at once. When the laughter that greeted + the name had subsided, Betty said: + </p> + <p> + “'Pon my honour, though, that man must be off his dot,” and the lady in + blue went into convulsions of hysterical giggling. Drake looked uneasy, + and Lord Robert said, “Who cares what an Elephant says?” But Glory took no + notice now, save that for a moment the smile died off her face. + </p> + <p> + It had been agreed, when they cracked the head off the last bottle, that + the company should dine together at the Cafè Royal or Romano's, so they + drove first to Drake's chambers to brush the dust off and to wash and + rest. Glory was the first to be ready, and while waiting for the others + she sat at the organ in the sitting-room and played something. It was the + hymn they had heard in the suburbs. At this there was laughter from the + other side of the wall, and Drake, who seemed unable, to lose sight of + her, came to the door of his room in his shirt sleeves. To cover up her + confusion she sang a “coon” song. The company cheered her, and she sang + another, and yet another. Finally she began My Mammie, but floundered, + broke down, and cried. + </p> + <p> + “Rehearsal, ten in the morning,” said Betty. + </p> + <p> + Then everybody laughed, and while Drake busied himself putting Glory's + cloak on her shoulders, he whispered: “What's to do, dear? A bit off + colour to-night, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Be a good boy and leave me alone,” she answered, and then she laughed + also. + </p> + <p> + They were on the point of setting out when somebody said, “But it's late + for dinner now—why not supper at the Corinthian Club?” At that the + other ladies cried “Yes” with one voice. There was a dash of daring and + doubtful propriety in the proposal. + </p> + <p> + “But are you game for it?” said Drake, looking at Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” she replied, with a merry smile, whereupon he cried “All + right,” and a look came into his eyes which she had never seen there + before. + </p> + <p> + The Corinthian Club was in St. James's Square, a few doors from the + residence of the Bishop of London. It was now dark, and as they passed + through Jermyn Street a line of poor children stood by the poulterer's + shop at the corner waiting for the scraps that are thrown away at closing + time. York Street was choked with hansoms, but they reached the door at + last. There were the sounds of music and dancing within. Officials in + uniform stood in a hall examining the tickets of membership and taking the + names of guests. The ladies removed their cloaks, the men hung up their + coats and hats, a large door was thrown open, and they looked into the + ballroom. The room was full of people as faultlessly dressed as at a house + in Grosvenor Square. But the women were all young and pretty, and the men + had no surnames. A long line of gilded youths in dress clothes occupied + the middle of the floor. Each held by the waist the young man before him + as if he were going to play leap-frog. “Hello there!” shouted one of them, + and the band struck up. Then the whole body kicked out right and left, + while all sang a chorus, consisting chiefly of “Tra-la-la-la-la-la!” One + of them was a lord, another a young man who had lately come into a + fortune, another a light comedian, another belonged to a big firm on the + Stock Exchange, another was a mystery, and another was one of “the boys” + and lived by fleecing all the rest. They were executing a dance from the + latest burlesque. “Hello, there!” the conductor shouted again, and the + band stopped. + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert led the way upstairs. Pretty women in light pinks and blues + sat in every corner of the staircase. There was a balcony from which you + could look down on the dancers as from the gallery of a playhouse. Also + there was an American bar where women smoked cigarettes. Lord Robert + ordered supper, and when the meal was announced they went into the + supper-room. + </p> + <p> + “Hello there!” greeted them as they entered. At little tables lit up by + pink candles sat small groups of shirt fronts and butterfly ties with fair + heads and pretty frocks. Waiters were coming and going with champagne and + silver dishes; there was a clatter of knives and forks, and a jabber of + voices and laughter. And all the time there came the sounds of the band, + with the “Tra-la-la” from the ballroom below. + </p> + <p> + Glory sat by Drake. She realized that she had lowered herself in his eyes + by coming there. He was drinking a good deal and paying her endless + compliments. From time to time the tables about them were vacated and + filled again by similar shirt fronts and fair heads. People were arriving + from the Derby, and the talk was of the day's racing. Some of the new + arrivals saluted Drake, and many of them looked at Glory. “A rippin' good + race, old chappie. Didn't suit my book exactly, but the bookies will have + smiling faces at Tattersall's on Monday.” + </p> + <p> + A man with a big beard at the next table pulled down his white waistcoat, + lifted his glass, and said, “To Gloria!” It was her acquaintance of the + race-course. + </p> + <p> + “Who is Blue Beard?” she asked in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “They call him the Faro King,” said Drake. “Made all his money by gambling + in Paris, and now he is a squire with a living in his gift.” + </p> + <p> + Then over the laughter and voices, the band and the singing, with an awful + suddenness there came a crash of thunder. The band and the comic song + stopped, and there was a hush for a moment. Then Lord Robert said: + </p> + <p> + “Wonder if this is the dreadful storm that is to overwhelm the nation, + don't you know!” + </p> + <p> + That fell on the house of frivolity like a second thunderbolt, and people + began to look up with blanched faces. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it isn't the first time the <i>storm</i> has howled; it's been + howling all along,” said Lord Robert, but nobody laughed. + </p> + <p> + Presently the company recovered itself, the bands and the singing were + heard again, louder and wilder than before, the men shouted for more + champagne, and nicknamed every waiter “Father Storm.” + </p> + <p> + Glory was ashamed. With her head on her hand she was looking at the people + around when the “Faro King,” who had been making eyes at her, leaned over + her shoulder and said in a confidential whisper, “And what is Gloria + looking for?” + </p> + <p> + “I am looking for <i>a man</i>,” she answered. And as the big beard turned + away with “Oh, confound it!” she became aware that Drake and Lord Robert + were at high words from opposite sides of the table. + </p> + <p> + “No, I tell you no, no, <i>no</i>!” said Drake. “Call him a weakling and a + fool and an ass, if you will, but does that explain everything? This is + one of the men with the breath of God in him, and you can't judge of him + by ordinary standards.” + </p> + <p> + “Should think not, indeed, dear chap,” said Lord Robert, “Common sense + laughs at the creature.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the worse for common sense. When it judges of these isolated + beings by the standards of the common herd then common sense is always the + greatest nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “Oho! oho!” came in several voices, but Drake paid no attention. + </p> + <p> + “Jesus Christ himself was mocked at and ridiculed by the common sense of + his time, by his own people, and even his own family, and his family and + people and time have been gibbeted by all the centuries that have come + after them. And so it has been with every ardent soul since who has taken + up his parable and introduced into the world a new spirit. The world has + laughed at him and spat upon him, and, only for its fear of the sublime + banner he has borne, it would have shut him up in a mad-house.” + </p> + <p> + They were strange words in a strange place. Everybody listened. + </p> + <p> + “But these sombre giants are the leaders of the world for all that, and + one hour of their Divine madness is worth more to humanity than a cycle of + our sanity. And yet we deny them friendship and love, and do our best to + put them out of the pale of the human family! We have invented a new name + for them too—degenerates—pygmies and pigs as we are, who ought + to go down on our knees to them with our faces buried in the dirt! + Gentlemen,” he cried, filling his glass and rising to his feet, “I give + you a toast—the health of Father Storm!” + </p> + <p> + Glory had sat trembling all over, breathing hard, blushing, and wide-eyed + until he had done. Then she leaped up to where he stood beside her, threw + her arms about his neck, and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “And now you ring down quick, my dear,” said Betty, and everybody laughed + a little. + </p> + <p> + Drake was laughing with the rest, and Glory, who had dropped back to her + seat in confused embarrassment, was trying to laugh too. + </p> + <p> + “Another bottle of fizz anyway,” cried Drake. He had mistaken the meaning + of Glory's kiss, and was utterly intoxicated by it. She could have cried + with shame and rage, seeing he thought such conduct came naturally to her + and perhaps imagined it wasn't the first time she had done as much. But to + carry off the situation she laughed a good deal with him, and when the + wine came they jingled glasses. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to see you home to-night,” he whispered, smiling slyly and + looking her full in the eyes. She shook her head, but that only provoked + him to fresh effort. + </p> + <p> + “I must, I will—you <i>shall</i> allow me,” and he began to play + with her hand and ruffle up the lace that covered her round arm. + </p> + <p> + Just then his man Benson, looking hot and excited, came up to him with a + message. Glory overheard something about “the office,” “the Secretary,” + and “Scotland Yard.” Then Drake turned to her with a smile, over a look of + vexation, and said: “I'm sorry, dear—very—I must go away for a + while. Will you stay here until I return, or——” + </p> + <p> + “Take me out and put me in a cab,” said Glory. Their getting up attracted + attention, and Lord Robert said: + </p> + <p> + “Is it, perhaps, something about that——” + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing,” said Drake, and they left the room. + </p> + <p> + The band in the ballroom was still playing the dance out of the burlesque, + and half a hundred voices were shouting “Tra-la-la-la” as Glory stepped + into a hansom. + </p> + <p> + “I'll follow on, though,” whispered Drake with a merry smile. + </p> + <p> + “We shall all be in bed, and the house locked up—— How + magnificent you were to-night!” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't see the man trodden on when he was down—— But how + lovely you've looked to-day, Glory! I'll get in to-night if I have to ring + up Liza or break down the door for it!” + </p> + <p> + As the cab crossed Trafalgar Square it had to draw up for a procession of + people coming up Parliament Street singing hymns. Another and more + disorderly procession of people, decorated with oak leaves and hawthorns + and singing a music-hall song, came up and collided with it. A line of + police broke up both processions; and the hansom passed through. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. + </h2> + <p> + On entering the drawing-room John Storm was seized with a weird feeling of + dread. The soft air seemed to be filled with Glory's presence and her very + breath to live in it. On the side-table a lamp was burning under a warm + red shade. A heap of petty vanities lay about—articles of silver, + little trinkets, fans, feathers, and flowers. His footsteps on the soft + carpet made no noise. It was all so unlike the place he had come from, his + own bare chamber under the church! + </p> + <p> + He could have fancied that Glory had that moment left the room. The door + of a little ebony cabinet stood half open and he could see inside. Its + lower shelves were full of shoes and little dainty slippers, some of them + of leather, some of satin, some black, some red, some white. They touched + him with an indescribable tenderness and he turned his eyes away. Under + the lamp lay a pair of white gloves. One of them was flat and had not been + worn, but the other was filled out with the impression of a little hand. + He took it up and laid it across his own big palm, and another wave of + tenderness broke over him. + </p> + <p> + On the mantelpiece there were many photographs. Most of them were of Glory + and some were very beautiful, with their gleaming and glistening eyes and + their curling and waving hair. One looked even voluptuous with its parted + lips and smiling mouth; but another was different—it was so sweet, + so gay, so artless. He thought it must belong to an earlier period, for + the dress was such as she used to wear in the days when he knew her first, + a simple jersey and a sailor's stocking cap. Ah, those days that were + gone, with their innocence and joy! Glory! His bright, his beautiful + Glory! + </p> + <p> + His emotion was depriving him of the free use of his faculties, and he + began to ask himself why he was waiting there. At the next instant came + the thought of the awful thing he had come to do and it seemed monstrous + and impossible. “I'll go away,” he told himself, and he turned his face + toward the door. + </p> + <p> + On a what-not at the door side of the room another photograph stood in a + glass stand. His back had been to it, and the soft light of the lamp left + a great part of the room in obscurity, but he saw it now, and something + bitter that lay hidden at the bottom of his heart rose to his throat. It + was a portrait of Drake, and at the sight of it he laughed savagely and + sat down. + </p> + <p> + How long he sat he never knew. To the soul in torment there is no such + thing as time; an hour is as much as, eternity and eternity is no more + than an hour. His head was buried in his arms on the table and he was a + prey to anguish and doubt. At one time he told himself that God did not + send men to commit murder; at the next that this was not murder but + sacrifice. Then a mocking voice in his ears seemed to say, “But the world + will call it murder and the law will punish you.” To that he answered in + his heart: “When I leave this house I will deliver myself up. I will go to + the nearest police court and say 'Take me, I have done my duty in the eye + of God, but committed a crime in the eye of my country.'” And when the + voice replied, “That will only lead to your own death also,” he thought, + “Death is a gain to those who die for their cause, and my death will be a + protest against the degradation of women, a witness against the men who + make them the creatures of their pleasure, their playthings, their + victims, and their slaves.” Thinking so, he found a strange thrill in the + idea that all the world would hear of what he had done. “But I will say a + mass for her soul in the morning,” he told himself, and a chill came over + him and his heart grew cold as a stone. + </p> + <p> + Then he lifted his head and listened. The room was quiet, there was not a + sound in the gardens of the Inn, and, through a window which was partly + open, he could hear the monotonous murmur of the streets outside. A great + silence seemed to have fallen on London—a silence more awful than + all the noise and confused clamour of the evening. “It must be late,” he + thought; “it must be the middle of the night.” Then the thought came to + him that perhaps, Glory would not come home that night at all, and in a + sudden outburst of pent-up feeling his heart cried, “Thank God! Thank + God!” + </p> + <p> + He had said it aloud and the sound of his voice in the silent room—awakened + all his faculties. Suddenly he was aware of other sounds outside. There + was a rumble of wheels and the rattle of a hansom. The hansom came nearer + and nearer. It stopped in the outside courtyard. There was the noise of a + curb-chain as if the horse were shaking its head. The doors of the hansom + opened with a creak and banged back on their spring. A voice, a woman's + voice, said “Good-night!” and another voice, a man's voice, answered, + “Good-night and thank you, miss!” Then the cab wheels turned and went off. + All his senses seemed to have gone into his ears, and in the silence of + that quiet place he heard everything. He rose to his feet and stood + waiting. + </p> + <p> + After a moment there was the sound of a key in the lock of the door below; + the rustle of a woman's dress coming up the stairs, an odour of perfume in + the air, an atmosphere of freshness and health, and then the door of the + room which had been ajar was swung open and there on the threshold with + her languid and tired but graceful movements was she herself, Glory. Then + his head turned giddy and he could neither hear nor see. + </p> + <p> + When Glory saw him standing by the lamp, with his deadly pale face, she + stood a moment in speechless astonishment, and passed her hand across her + eyes as if to wipe out a vision. After that she clutched at a chair and + made a faint cry. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it you?” she said in a voice which she strove to control. “How you + frightened me! Whoever would have thought of seeing you here!” + </p> + <p> + He was trying to answer, but his tongue would not obey him, and his + silence alarmed her. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Liza let you in—where <i>is</i> Liza?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone to bed,” he said in a thick voice. + </p> + <p> + “And Rosa—have you seen Rosa?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not! How could you? She must be at the office, and won't be + back for hours. So you see we are quite alone!” + </p> + <p> + She did not know why she said that, and, in spite of the voice which she + tried to render cheerful, her lip trembled. Then she laughed, though there + was nothing to laugh at, and down at the bottom of her heart she was + afraid. But she began moving about, trying to make herself easy and + pretending not to be alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, won't you help me off with my cloak? No? Then I must do it for + myself I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Throwing off her outer things, she walked across the room and sat down on + the sofa near to where he stood. + </p> + <p> + “How tired I am! It's been such a day! Once is enough for that sort of + thing, though! Now where do you think I've been?” + </p> + <p> + “I know where you've been, Glory—I saw you there.” + </p> + <p> + “You? Really? Then perhaps it <i>was</i> you who——Was it you + in the hollow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + He had moved to avoid contact with her, but now, standing by the + mantelpiece looking into her face, he could not help recognising in the + fashionable woman at his feet the features of the girl once so dear to + him, the brilliant eyes, the long lashes, the twitching of the eyelids, + and the restless movement of the mouth. Then the wave of tenderness came + sweeping over him again and he felt as if the ground were slipping beneath + his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Will you say your prayers to-night. Glory?” he said, + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” she answered, trying to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Then why not say them now, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + He had made her tremble all over, but she got up, walked straight across + to him, looked intently into his face for a moment, and then said: “What + is the matter? Why are you so pale? You are not well, John!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not well either.” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “John, John, what does it all mean? What are you thinking of? Why have you + come here to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “To save your soul, my child. It is in great, great peril.” + </p> + <p> + At first she took this for the common, everyday language of the devotee, + but another look into his face banished that interpretation, and her fear + rose to terror. Nevertheless she talked lightly, hardly knowing what she + said. “Am I, then, so very wicked? Surely Heaven doesn't want me yet, + John. Some day I trust—I hope——” + </p> + <p> + “To-night, to-night—<i>now!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Then her cheeks turned pale and her lips became white and bloodless. She + had returned to the sofa, and half rose from it, then sat back, stretching + out one hand as if to ward off a blow, but still keeping her eyes riveted + on his face. Once she looked round to the door and tried to cry out, but + her voice would not answer her. + </p> + <p> + This speechless fright lasted only a moment. Then she was herself again, + and looked fearlessly up at him. She had the full use of her intellect, + and her quick instinct went to the root of things. “This is the madness of + jealousy,” she thought. “There is only one way to deal with it. If I cry + out—if I show that I am afraid—if I irritate him, it will + soon, be over.” She told herself in a moment that she must try gentleness, + tenderness, reason, affection, love. + </p> + <p> + Trembling from head to foot, she stepped up to him again, and began softly + and sweetly trying to explain herself. “John, dear John, if you see me + with certain people and in certain places you must not think from that——” + </p> + <p> + But he broke in upon her with a torrent of words. “I can't think of it at + all, Glory. When I look ahead I see nothing but shame and misery and + degradation for you in the future. That man is destroying you body and + soul. He is leading you on to the devil and hell and damnation, and I can + not stand by and see it done!” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, John, you are mistaken, quite mistaken.” But, with a look of + sombre fury, he cried, “Can you deny it?” + </p> + <p> + “I can protect and care for myself, John.” + </p> + <p> + “With that man's words in your ears, still can you deny it?” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she remembered Drake's last whisper as she got into the hansom, + and she covered her face with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “You can't! It is the truth! The man is following you to ruin you, and you + know it. You've known it from the first, therefore you deserve all that + can ever come to you. Do you know what you are guilty of? You are guilty + of soul-suicide. What is the suicide of the body to the suicide of the + soul? What is the crime of the poor broken creature who only chooses death + and the grave before starvation or shame, compared to the sin of the + wretched woman who murders her soul for sake of the lusts and vanities of + the world? The law of man may punish, the one, but the vengeance of God is + waiting for the other.” + </p> + <p> + She was crying behind her hands, and, in spite of the fury into which he + had lashed himself, a great pity took hold of him. He felt as if + everything were slipping away from him, and he was trying to stand on an + avalanche. But he told himself that he would not waver, that he would hold + to his purpose, that he would stand firm as a rock. Heaving a deep sigh, + he walked to and fro across the room. + </p> + <p> + “O Glory, Glory! Can't you understand what it is to me to be the messenger + of God's judgment?” + </p> + <p> + She gasped for breath, and what had been a vague surmise became a + certainty—thinking he was God's avenger, yet with nothing but a poor + spasm of jealousy in his heart, he had come with a fearful purpose to + perform. + </p> + <p> + “I did what I could in other ways and it was all in vain. Time after time + I tried to save you from these dangers, but you would not listen. I was + ready for any change, any sacrifice. Once I would have given up all the + world for you, Glory—you know that quite well—friends, + kinsmen, country, everything, even my work and my duty, and, but for the + grace of God, God himself!” + </p> + <p> + But his tenderness broke again into a headlong torrent of reproach. “You + failed me, didn't you? At the last moment, too—the very last! Not + content with the suicide of your own soul, you must attempt to murder the + soul of another. Do you know what that is? That is the unpardonable sin! + You are crying, aren't you? Why are you crying?” But even while he said + this something told him that all he was waiting for was that her beautiful + eyes should be raised and their splendid light flash upon him again. + </p> + <p> + “But that is all over now. It was a blunder, and the breach between us is + irreparable. I am better as I am—far, far better. Without friends or + kin or country, consecrated for life, cut off from the world, separate, + alone!” + </p> + <p> + She knew that her moment had come, and that she must vanquish this man and + turn him from his purpose, whatever it was, by the only weapon a woman + could use—his love of her. “I do not deny that you have a right to + be angry with me,” she said, “but don't think that I have not given up + something too. At the time you speak of, when I chose this life and + refused to go with you to the South Seas, I sacrificed a good deal—I + sacrificed love. Do you think I didn't realize what that meant? That + whatever the pleasure and delight my art might bring me, and the flattery, + and the fame, and the applause, there were joys I was never to know—the + happiness that every poor woman may feel, though she isn't clever at all, + and the world knows nothing about her—the happiness of being a wife + and a mother, and of holding her place in life, however humble she is and + simple and unknown, and of linking the generations each to each. And, + though the world has been so good to me, do you think I have ever ceased + to regret that? Do you think I don't remember it sometimes when the house + rises at me, or when I am coming home, or perhaps when I awake in the + middle of the night? And notwithstanding all this success with which the + world has crowned me, do you think I don't hunger sometimes for what + success can never buy—the love of a good man who would love me with + all his soul and his strength and everything that is his?” + </p> + <p> + Out of a dry and husky throat John Storm answered: “I would rather die a + thousand, thousand deaths than touch a hair of your head, Glory.... But + God's will is his will!” he added, quivering and trembling. The compulsion + of a great passion was drawing him, but he struggled hard against it. “And + then this success—you cling to it nevertheless!” he cried, with a + forced laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I cling to it,” she said, wiping away the tears that had begun to + fall. “I can not give it up, I can not, I can not!” + </p> + <p> + “Then what is the worth of your repentance?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not repentance—it is what you said it was—in this room—long + ago.... We are of different natures, John—that is the real trouble + between us, now and always has been. But whether we like it or not, our + lives are wrapped up together for all that. We can't do without each + other. God makes men and women like that sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + There was a piteous smile on his face. “I never doubted your feeling for + me, Glory. No, not even when you hurt me most.” + </p> + <p> + “And if God made us so——” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never forgive myself, Glory, though Heaven itself forgives me!” + </p> + <p> + “If God makes us love each other in spite of every barrier that divides us——” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never know another happy hour in this life. Glory—never!” + </p> + <p> + “Then why should we struggle? It is our fate and we can not conquer it. + You can't give up your life, John, and I can't give up mine; but our + hearts are one.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice sang like music in his ears, and something in his aching heart + was saying: “What are the laws we make for ourselves compared to the laws + God makes for us?” Suddenly he felt something warm. It was Glory's breath + on his hand. A fragrance like incense seemed to envelop him. He gasped as + if suffocating, and sat down on the sofa. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong, dear, if you think I care for the man you speak of. He has + been very good to me and helped me in my career, but he is nothing to me—nothing + whatever—But we are such old friends, John? It seems impossible to + remember a time when we were not old chums, you and I! Sometimes I dream + of those dear old days in the 'lil oilan'! Aw, they were ter'ble—just + ter'ble! Do you remember the boat—the <i>Gloria</i>—do you + remember her?” (He clinched his hands as though to hold on to his purpose, + but it was slipping through his fingers like sand.) “What times they were! + Coming round the castle of a summer evening when the bay and the sky were + like two sheets of silvered glass looking into each other, and you and I + singing 'John Peel'” (in a quavering voice she sang a bar or two): “'D'ye + ken John Peel with his coat so gay? D'ye ken John Peel'—-Do you + remember it, John?” + </p> + <p> + She was sobbing and laughing by turns. It was her old self, and the cruel + years seemed to roll back. But still he struggled. “What is the love of + the body to the love of the soul?” he told himself. + </p> + <p> + “You wore flannels then, and I was in a white jersey—like this, + see,” and she snatched up from the mantelpiece the photograph he had been + looking at. “I got up my first act in imitation of it, and sometimes in + the middle of a scene—such a jolly scene, too—my mind goes + back to that sweet old time and I burst out crying.” + </p> + <p> + He pushed the photograph away. “Why do you remind me of those days?” he + said. “Is it only to make me realize the change in you?” But even at that + moment the wonderful eyes pierced him through and through. + </p> + <p> + “Am I so much changed, John? Am I? No, no, dear! It is only my hair done + differently. See, see!” and with trembling fingers she tore her hair from + its knot. It fell in clusters over her shoulders and about her face. He + wanted to lay his hand on it, and he turned to her and then turned away, + fighting with himself as with an enemy. + </p> + <p> + “Or is it this old rag of lace that is so unlike my jersey? There—there!” + she cried, tearing the lace from her neck, and throwing it on the floor + and trampling upon it. “Look at me now, John—look at me? Am I not + the same as ever? Why don't you look?” + </p> + <p> + She was fighting for her life. He started to his feet and came to her with + his teeth set and his pupils fixed. “This is only the devil tempting me. + Say your prayers, child!” + </p> + <p> + He grasped her left hand with his right. His grip almost overtaxed her + strength and she felt faint. In an explosion of emotion the insane frenzy + for destroying had come upon him again. He longed to give his feelings + physical expression. + </p> + <p> + “Say them, say them!” he cried, “God sent me to kill you, Glory!” + </p> + <p> + A sensation of terror and of triumph came over her at once. She half + closed her eyes and threw her other arm around his neck. “No, but to love + me!—Kiss me, John!” + </p> + <p> + Then a cry came from him like that of a man flinging himself over a + precipice. He threw his arms about her, and her disordered hair fell over + his face. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. + </h2> + <p> + “I thought it was God's voice—it was the devil's!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm was creeping like a thief through the streets of London in the + dark hours before the dawn. It was a peaceful night after the thunderstorm + of the evening before. A few large stars had come out, a clear moon, was + shining, and the air was quiet after the cries, the crackling tumult, and + all the fury of human throats. There was only the swift rattling of mail + cars running to the Post Office, the heavy clank of country carts crawling + to Covent Garden, the measured tread of policemen, and the muddled + laughter of drunken men and women by the coffee stands at the street + corners. “'Ow's the deluge, myte? Not come off yet? Well, give us a cup of + cawfee on the strength of it.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed as if eyes looked down on him from the dark sky and pierced him + through and through. His whole life had been an imposture from the first—his + quarrel with his father, his taking Orders, his entering the monastery and + his leaving it, his crusade in Soho, his intention of following Father + Damien, his predictions at Westminster—all, all had been false, and + the expression of a lie! He was a sham, a mockery, a whited sepulchre, and + had grossly sinned against the light and against God. + </p> + <p> + But the spiritual disillusion had come at last, and it had revealed him to + himself at an awful depth of self-deception. Thinking in his pride and + arrogance he was the divine messenger, the avenger, the man of God, he had + set out to shed blood like any wretched criminal, any jealous murderer who + was driven along by devilish passion. How the devil had played with him + too!—with him, who was dedicated by the most solemn and sacred vows! + And he had been as stubble before the wind—as chaff that the storm + carrieth away! + </p> + <p> + With such feelings of poignant anguish he plodded through the echoing + streets. Mechanically he made his way back to Westminster. By the time he + got there the moon and stars had gone and the chill of daybreak was in the + air. He saw and heard nothing, but as he crossed Broad Sanctuary a line of + mounted police trotted past him with their swords clanking. + </p> + <p> + It was not yet daylight when he knocked at the door of his chambers under + the church. + </p> + <p> + “Who's there?” came in a fierce whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Open the door,” he said in a spiritless voice. + </p> + <p> + The door was opened, and Brother Andrew, with the affectionate whine of a + dog who has been snarling at his master in the dark, said: “Oh, is it you, + Father? I thought you were gone. Did you meet them? They've been searching + for you everywhere all night long.” + </p> + <p> + He still spoke in whispers, as if some one had been ill. “I can't light + up. They'd be sure to see and perhaps come back. They'll come in the + morning in any case. Oh, it's terrible! Worse than ever now! Haven't you + heard what has happened? Somebody has been killed!” + </p> + <p> + John was struggling to listen, but everything seemed to be happening a + long way off. + </p> + <p> + “Well, not killed exactly, but badly hurt, and taken to the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + It was Charlie Wilkes. He had insulted the name of the Father, and + Pincher, the pawnbroker, had knocked him down. His head had struck against + the curb, and he had been picked up insensible. Then the police had come + and Pincher had been taken off to the police station. + </p> + <p> + “But it's my mother I'm thinking of,” said Brother Andrew, and he brushed + his sleeve across his eyes. “You must get away at once, Father. They'll + lay everything on you. What's to be done? Let me think! Let me think! How + my head is going round and round! There's a train from Euston to the north + at five in the morning, isn't there? You must catch that. Don't speak, + Father! Don't say you won't.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go,” said John with a look of utter dejection. + </p> + <p> + The change that had come over him since the night before startled the lay + brother. “But I suppose you've been out all night. How tired you look! Can + I get you anything?” + </p> + <p> + John did not answer, and the lay brother brought some brown bread and + coaxed him to eat a little of it. The day was beginning to dawn. + </p> + <p> + “Now you must go, Father.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, my lad?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can take care of myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Go back to the Brotherhood; take the dog with you——” + </p> + <p> + “The dog!” Brother Andrew seemed to be about to say something; but he + checked himself, and with a wild look he muttered: “Oh, I know what <i>I'll</i> + do. Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye!” said John, and then the broken man was back in the streets. + </p> + <p> + His nervous system had been exhausted by the events of the night, and when + he entered the railway station he could scarcely put one foot before + another. “Looks as if <i>he'd</i> had enough,” said somebody behind him. + He found an empty carriage and took his seat in the corner. A kind of + stupor had come over his faculties and he could neither think nor feel. + </p> + <p> + Three or four young men and boys were sorting and folding newspapers at a + counter that stood on trestles before the closed-up bookstall. A placard + slipped from the fingers of one of them and fell on to the floor. John saw + his own name in monster letters, and he began to ask himself what he was + doing. Was he running away? It was cowardly, it was contemptible! And then + it was so useless! He might go to the ends of the earth, yet he could not + escape the only enemy it was worth while to fly from. That enemy was + himself. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he remembered that he had not taken his ticket, and he got out of + the train. But instead of going to the ticket office he stood aside and + tried to think what he ought to do. Then there was confusion and noise, + people were hurrying past him, somebody was calling to him, and finally + the engine whistled and the smoke rose to the roof. When he came to + himself the train was gone and he was standing on the platform alone. + </p> + <p> + “But what am I to do?” he asked himself. + </p> + <p> + It was a lovely summer morning and the streets were empty and quiet. + Little by little they became populous and noisy, and at length he was + walking in a crowd. It was nine o'clock by this time, and he was in the + Whitechapel road, going along with a motley troop of Jews, Polish Jews, + Germans, German Jews, and all the many tribes of Cockneydom. Two costers + behind him were talking and laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Lor' blesh you, it's jest abart enneff to myke a corpse laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it? An acquyntince uv mine—d'ye know Jow 'Awkins? Him as kep' + the frahd fish shop off of Flower and Dean. Yus? Well, he sold his bit uv + biziness lahst week for a song, thinkin' the world was acomin' to a end, + and this mornin' I meets 'im on the 'Owben Viadeck lookin' as if 'e'd 'ad + the smallpox or semthink!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm had scarcely heard them. He had a strange feeling that + everything was happening hundreds of miles away. + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do?” he asked himself again. Between twelve and one o'clock + he was back in the city, walking aimlessly on and on. He did not choose + the unfrequented thoroughfares, and when people looked into his face he + thought, “If anybody asks me who I am I'll tell him.” It was eight hours + since he had eaten anything, and he felt weak and faint. Coming upon a + coffee-house, he went in and ordered food. The place was full of young + clerks at their midday meal. Most of them were reading newspapers which + they had folded and propped up on the tables before them, but two who sat + near were talking. + </p> + <p> + “These predictions of the end of the world are a mania, a monomania, which + recurs at regular intervals of the world's history,” said one. He was a + little man with a turned-up nose. + </p> + <p> + “But the strange thing is that people go on believing them,” said his + companion. + </p> + <p> + “That's not strange at all. This big, idiotic, amphorous London has no + sense of humour. See how industriously it has been engaged for the last + month in the noble art of making a fool of itself!” And then he looked + around at John Storm, as if proud of his tall language. + </p> + <p> + John did not listen. He knew that everybody was talking about him, yet the + matter did not seem to concern him now, but to belong to some other + existence which his soul had had. + </p> + <p> + At length an idea came to him and he thought he knew what he ought to do. + He ought to go to the Brotherhood and ask to be taken back. But not as a + son this time, only as a servant, to scour and scrub to the end of his + life. There used to be a man to sweep out the church and ring the church + bell—he might be allowed to do menial work like that. He had proved + false to his ideal, he had not been able to resist the lures of earthly + love, but God was merciful. He would not utterly reject him. + </p> + <p> + His self-abasement was abject, yet several hours had passed before he + attempted to carry out this design. It was the time of Evensong when he + reached the church, and the brothers were singing their last hymn: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Jesus, lover of my soul, + Let me to thy bosom fly. +</pre> + <p> + He stood by the porch and listened. The street was very quiet; hardly + anybody was passing. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hide me, O my Saviour hide, + Till the storms of life be past. +</pre> + <p> + His heart surged up to his throat, and he could scarcely bear the pain of + it. Yes, yes, yes! Other refuge had he none! + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a new thought smote him, and he felt like a man roused from a + deep sleep. Glory! He had been thinking only of his own soul and his + soul's salvation, and had forgotten his duty to others. He had his duty to + Glory above all others and lie could not and must not escape from it. He + must take his place by her side, and if that included the abandonment of + his ideals, so be it! He had been proved unworthy of a life of holiness; + he must lower his flag, he must be content to live the life of a man. + </p> + <p> + But he could not think what he ought to do next, and when night fell he + was still wandering aimlessly through the streets. He had turned eastward + again, and even in the tumultuous thoroughfares of the Mile End he could + not help seeing that something unusual was going on. People in drink were + rolling about the streets, and shouting and singing as if it had been a + public holiday. “Glad you ain't in kingdom-come to-night, old gal!” “Well, + what do <i>you</i> think?” + </p> + <p> + At twelve o'clock he went into a lodging-house and asked if he could have + a bed. The keeper was in the kitchen talking with two men who were cooking + a herring for their supper, and he looked up at his visitor in + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Can I sleep you, sir? We ain't got no accommodation for gentlemen——” + and then he stopped, looked more attentively, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Are you from the Settlement, sir?” + </p> + <p> + John Storm made some inarticulate reply. + </p> + <p> + “Thort ye might be, sir. We often 'as 'em 'ere sempling the cawfee, but + blessed if they ever wanted to semple a bed afore. Still, if <i>you</i> + down't mind——” + </p> + <p> + “It will be better than I deserve, my man. Can you give me a cup of coffee + before I turn in?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, sir! Set down, sir! Myke yourself at 'ome. Me and my + friends were just talkin' of a gentleman of your cloth, sir—the pore + feller as 'as got into trouble acrost Westminster way.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you were talking of him, were you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sem 'ere says the biziness pize.” + </p> + <p> + “It <i>must</i> py, or people wouldn't do it,” said the man leaning over + the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Down't you believe it. That little gime down't py. Cause why? Look at the + bloomin' stoo the feller's in now. If they ketch 'im 'e'll get six months + 'ard.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what's 'e been doin' it for? I down't see nothink in it if it down't + py.”. + </p> + <p> + “Cause he believes in it, thet's why!—What do you think, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I think the man has come by a just fall,” said John. “God will never use + him again, having brought him to shame.” + </p> + <p> + “Must hev been a wrong un certingly,” said the man over the fire. + </p> + <p> + When John Storm awoke in his cubicle next morning he saw his way clearer. + He would deliver himself up to the warrant that was issued for his arrest, + and go through with it to the end. Then he would return to Glory a free + man, and God would find work for him even yet, after this awful lesson to + his presumption and pride. + </p> + <p> + “That feller as was took ter the awspital is dead,” said somebody in the + kitchen, and then there was the crinkling of a newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “Is 'e?” said another. “The best thing the Father can do is to 'ook it + then. Cause why? Whether 'e done it or not they'll fix it on ter 'im, + doncher know!” + </p> + <p> + John's head spun round and round. He remembered what Brother Andrew had + said of Charlie Wilkes, and his heart, so warm a moment ago, felt benumbed + as by frost. Nevertheless, at nine o'clock he was going westward in the + Underground. People looked at him when he stepped into the carriage. He + thought everybody knew him, and that the world was only playing with him + as a cat plays with a mouse. The compartment was full of young clerks + smoking pipes and reading newspapers. + </p> + <p> + “Most extraordinary!” said one of them. “The fellow has disappeared as + absolutely as if he had been carried up into a cloud.” + </p> + <p> + “Why extraordinary?” said another in a thin voice. This one was not + smoking, and he had the startled eyes of the enthusiast. “Elijah was taken + up to heaven in the body, wasn't he? And why not Father Storm?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried the first, taking his pipe out of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Some people believe that,” said the thin voice timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you want a dose of medicine, you do,” said the first speaker, shaking + out his ash and looking round with a knowing air. The young men got out in + the City; John went on to Westminster Bridge. + </p> + <p> + It was terrible. Why could he not take advantage of the popular + superstition and disappear indeed, taking Glory with him! But no, no, no! + </p> + <p> + Through all the torment of his soul his religion had remained the same, + and now it rose up before him like a pillar of cloud and fire. He would do + as he had intended, whatever the consequences, and if he was charged with + crimes he had not committed, if he was accused of the offences of his + followers, he would make no defence; if need be he would allow himself to + be convicted, and being innocent in this instance God would accept his + punishment as an atonement for his other sins! Glorious sacrifice! He + would make it! He would make it! And Glory herself would be proud of it + some day. + </p> + <p> + With the glow of this resolution upon him he turned into Scotland Yard and + stepped boldly up to the office. The officer in charge received him with a + deferential bow, but went on talking in a low voice to an inspector of + police who was also standing at the other side of a counter. + </p> + <p> + “Strange?” he was saying. “I thought he was seen getting into the train at + Euston.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know that he wasn't either, in spite of all he says.” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking of the dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the dog, too,” said the inspector, and then seeing John, “Hello! + Who's here?” + </p> + <p> + The officer stepped up to the counter. “What can I do for you, sir?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + John knew that the supreme moment had come, and he felt proud of himself + that his resolution did not waver. Lifting his head, he said in a low and + rapid voice, “I understand that you have a warrant for the arrest of + Father Storm.” + </p> + <p> + “We <i>had</i>, sir,” the officer answered. + </p> + <p> + John looked embarrassed. “What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that Father Storm is now in custody.” + </p> + <p> + John stared at the man with a feeling of stupefaction. “In custody! Did + you say in custody?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely! He has just given himself up.” + </p> + <p> + John answered impetuously, “But that is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Why impossible, sir? Are you interested in this case?” + </p> + <p> + A certain quivering moved John's mouth. “I am Father Storm himself.” + </p> + <p> + The officer was silent for a moment. Then he turned to the inspector with + a pitying smile. “Another of them,” he said significantly. The psychology + of criminals had been an interesting study to this official. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute,” said the inspector, and he went hurriedly through an + inner doorway. The officer asked John some questions about his movements + since yesterday. John answered vaguely in broken and rather bewildering + sentences. Then the inspector returned. + </p> + <p> + “You are Father Storm?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know of anybody who might wish to personate you?” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid that any one should do that!” + </p> + <p> + “Still, there is some one here who says——” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Come this way quietly,” said the inspector, and John followed him to the + inner room. His pride was all gone, his head was hanging low, and he was a + prey to extraordinary agitation. + </p> + <p> + A man in a black cassock was sitting at a table making a statement to + another officer with an open book before him. His back was to the door, + but John knew him in a moment. It was Brother Andrew. + </p> + <p> + “Then why have you given yourself up?” the officer asked, and Brother + Andrew began a rambling and foolish explanation. He had seen it stated in + an evening paper that the Father had been traced to the train at Euston, + and he thought it a pity—a pity that the police—that the + police should waste their time—— + </p> + <p> + “Take care!” said the officer. “You are in a position that should make you + careful of what you say.” + </p> + <p> + And then the inspector stepped forward, leaving John by the door. + </p> + <p> + “You still say you are Father Storm?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do,” said Brother Andrew indignantly. “If I was anybody else, + do you think I should come here and give myself up——” + </p> + <p> + “Then who is this standing behind you?” + </p> + <p> + Brother Andrew turned and saw John with a start of surprise and a cry of + terror. He seemed hardly able to believe in the reality of what was before + him, and his restless eyeballs rolled fearfully. John tried to speak, but + he could only utter a few inarticulate sounds. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said the inspector. And while John stood with head down and + heaving breast, Brother Andrew began to laugh hysterically and to say: + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know who this is? This is my lay brother! I brought him out of + the Brotherhood six months ago, and he has been with me ever since.” + </p> + <p> + The officers looked at each other. “Good heavens!” cried Brother Andrew in + an imperious voice, “don't you believe me? You mustn't touch this man. He + has done nothing—nothing at all. He is as tender as a woman and + wouldn't hurt a fly. What's he doing here?” + </p> + <p> + The officers also were dropping their heads, and the heartrending voice + went on: “Have you arrested him? You'll do very wrong if you arrest——But + perhaps he has given himself up! That would be just like him. He is + devoted to me and would tell you any falsehood if he thought it would——But + you must send him away. Tell him to go back to his old mother—that's + the proper place for him. Good God! do you think I'm telling you lies?” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment. “My poor lad, hush, hush!” said John in a + tone full of tenderness and authority. Then he turned to the inspector + with a pitiful smile of triumph. “Are you satisfied?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Quite satisfied, Father,” the officer answered in a broken voice, and + then Brother Andrew began to cry. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. + </h2> + <p> + When Glory awoke on the morning after the Derby and thought of John she + felt no remorse. A sea of bewildering difficulty lay somewhere ahead, but + she would not look at it. He loved her, she loved him, and nothing else + mattered. If rules and vows stood between them, so much the worse for such + enemies of love. + </p> + <p> + She was conscious that a subtle change had come over her. She was not + herself any longer, but somebody else as well; not a woman merely, but in + some sort a man; not Glory only, but also John Storm. Oh, delicious + mystery! Oh, joy of joys! His arms seemed to be about her waist still, and + his breath to linger about her neck. With a certain tremor, a certain + thrill, she reached for a hand-glass and looked at herself to learn if + there was any difference in her face that the rest of the world would see. + Yes, her eyes had another lustre, a deeper light, but she lay back in the + cool bed with a smile and a long-drawn sigh. What matter whatever + happened! Gone were the six cruel months in which she had awakened every + morning with a pain at her breast. She was happy, happy, happy! + </p> + <p> + The morning sun was streaming across the room when Liza came in with the + tea. + </p> + <p> + “Did ye see the Farver last night, Miss Gloria?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; that was all right, Liza.” + </p> + <p> + The day's newspaper was lying folded on the tray. She took it up and + opened it, remembering the Derby, and thinking for the first time of + Drake's triumph. But what caught her eye in glaring head-lines was a + different matter: “The Panic Terror—Collapse of the Farce.” + </p> + <p> + It was a shriek of triumphant derision. The fateful day had come and gone, + yet London stood where it did before. Last night's tide had flowed and + ebbed, and the dwellings of men were not submerged. No earthquake had + swallowed up St. Paul's; no mighty bonfire of the greatest city of the + world had lit up the sky of Europe, and even the thunderstorm which had + broken over London had only laid the dust and left the air more clear. + </p> + <p> + “London is to be congratulated on the collapse of this panic, which, so + far as we can hear, has been attended by only one casualty—an + assault in Brown's Square, Westminster, on a young soldier, Charles + Wilkes, of the Wellington Barracks, by two of the frantic army of the + terror-stricken. The injured man was removed to St. Thomas's Hospital, + while his assailants were taken to Rochester Row police station, and we + have only to regret that the clerical panic-maker himself has not yet + shared the fate of his followers. Late last night the authorities, + recovering from their extraordinary supineness, issued a warrant for his + arrest, but up to the time of going to press he had escaped the vigilance + of the police.” + </p> + <p> + Glory was breathing audibly as she read, and Liza, who was drawing up the + blind, looked back at her with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Liza, have you mentioned to anybody that Father Storm was here last + night?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, miss, there ain't nobody stirring yet, and besides——” + </p> + <p> + “Then don't mention it to a soul. Will you do me that great, great + kindness?” + </p> + <p> + “Down't ye know I will, mum?” said Liza, with a twinkle of the eye and a + wag of the head. + </p> + <p> + Glory dressed hurriedly, went down to the drawing-room, and wrote a + letter. It was to Sefton, the manager. “Do not expect me to play to-night. + I don't feel up to it. Sorry to be so troublesome.” + </p> + <p> + Then Rosa came in with another newspaper in her hand, and, without saying + anything, Glory showed her the letter. Rosa read it and returned it in + silence. They understood each other. + </p> + <p> + During the next few hours Glory's impatience became feverish, and as soon + as the first of the evening papers appeared she sent out for it. The panic + was subsiding, and the people who had gone to the outskirts were returning + to the city in troops, looking downcast and ashamed. No news of Father + Storm. Inquiry that morning at Scotland Yard elicited the fact that + nothing had yet been heard of him. There was much perplexity as to where + he had spent the previous night. + </p> + <p> + Glory's face tingled and burned. From hour to hour she sent out for new + editions. The panic itself was now eclipsed by the interest of John + Storm's disappearance. His followers scouted the idea that he had fled + from London. Nevertheless, he had fallen. As a pretender to the gift of + prophecy his career was at an end, and his crazy system of mystical + divinity was the laughing-stock of London. + </p> + <p> + “It does not surprise us that this second Moses, this mock Messiah, has + broken down. Such men always do, and must collapse, but that the public + should ever have taken seriously a movement which——” and then + a grotesque list of John's followers—one pawnbroker, one waiter, one + “knocker-up,” two or three apprentices, etc. + </p> + <p> + As she read all this, Glory was at the same time glowing with shame, + trembling with fear, and burning with indignation. She dined with Rosa + alone, and they tried to talk of other matters. The effort was useless. At + last Rosa said: + </p> + <p> + “I have to follow this thing up for the paper, dear, and I'm going + to-night to see if they hold the usual service in his church.” + </p> + <p> + “May I go with you?” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish to, but it will be useless—he won't be there.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “The Prime Minister left London last night—I can't help thinking + there is something in that.” + </p> + <p> + “He will be there, Rosa. He's not the man to run away. I know him,” said + Glory proudly. + </p> + <p> + The church was crowded, and it was with difficulty they found seats. + John's enemies were present in force—all the owners of vested + interests who had seen their livelihood threatened by the man who declared + war on vice and its upholders. There was a dangerous atmosphere before the + service began, and, notwithstanding her brave faith in him, Glory found + herself praying that John Storm might not come. As the organ played and + the choir and clergy entered the excitement was intense, and some of the + congregation got on to their seats in their eagerness to see if the Father + was there. He was not there. The black cassock and biretta in which he had + lately preached were nowhere to be seen, and a murmur of disappointment + passed over friends and enemies alike. + </p> + <p> + Then came a disgraceful spectacle. A man with a bloated face and a bandage + about his forehead rose in his place and cried, “No popery, boys!” + Straightaway the service, which was being conducted by two of the clerical + brothers from the Brotherhood, was interrupted by hissing, whistling, + shouting, yelling, and whooping indescribable. Songs were roared out + during the lessons, and cushions, cassocks, and prayer-books were flung at + the altar and its furniture. The terrified choir boys fled downstairs to + their own quarters, and the clergy were driven out of the church. + </p> + <p> + John's own people stole away in terror and shame, but Glory leaped to her + feet as if to fling herself on the cowardly rabble. Her voice was lost in + the tumult, and Rosa drew her out into the street. + </p> + <p> + “Is there no law in the land to prevent brawling like this?” she cried, + but the police paid no heed to her. + </p> + <p> + Then the congregation, which had broken up, came rushing out of the church + and round to the door leading to the chambers beneath it. + </p> + <p> + “They've found him,” thought Glory, pressing her hand over her heart. But + no, it was another matter. Immediately afterward there rose over the babel + of human voices the deep music of the bloodhound in full cry. The crowd + shrieked with fear and delight, then surged and parted, and the dog came + running through with its stern up, its head down, its forehead wrinkled, + and the long drapery of its ears and flews hanging in folds about its + face. In a moment it was gone, its mellow note was dying away in the + neighbouring streets, and a gang of ruffians were racing after it. + “That'll find the feller if he's in London!” somebody shouted; it was the + man with the bandaged forehead—and there were yells of fiendish + laughter. + </p> + <p> + Glory's head was going round, and she was holding on to Rosa's arm with a + convulsive grasp. + </p> + <p> + “The cowards!” she cried. “To use that poor creature's devotion to its + master for their own inhuman ends—it's cowardly, it's brutal, it's——Oh, + oh, oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, dear,” said Rosa, and she dragged Glory away. + </p> + <p> + They went back through Broad Sanctuary. Neither spoke, but both were + thinking: “He has gone to the monastery. He intends to stay there until + the storm is over.” At Westminster Bridge they parted. “I have somewhere + to go,” said Rosa, turning down to the Underground. “She is going to + Bishopsgate Street,” thought Glory, and they separated with constraint. + </p> + <p> + Returning to Clement's Inn, Glory found a letter from Drake: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Glory: How can I apologize to you for nay detestable behaviour of + last night? The memory of what passed has taken all the joy out of the + success upon which everybody is congratulating me. I have tried to + persuade myself that you would make allowances for the day and the + circumstances and my natural excitement. But your life has been so + blameless that it fills me with anguish and horror to think how I exposed + you to misrepresentation by allowing you to go to that place, and by + behaving to you as I did when you were there. Thank God, things went no + farther, and some blessed power prevented me from carrying out my threat + to follow you. Believe me, you shall see no more of men like Lord Robert + Ure and women like his associates. I despise them from my heart, and + wonder how I can have tolerated them so long. Do let me beg the favour of + a line consenting to allow me to call and ask your forgiveness. Yours most + humbly, + </p> + <p> + “F. H. N. Drake.” + </p> + <p> + Glory slept badly that night, and as soon as Liza was stirring she rang + for the newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't ye 'ear the dorg, mum?” said Liza. + </p> + <p> + “What dog?” + </p> + <p> + “The Farver's dorg. It was scratching at the front dawer afore I was up + this morning. 'It's the milk,' sez I. But the minute I opened the dawer up + it came ter the drawerin' room and went snuffling rahnd everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is it now?” + </p> + <p> + “Gorn, mum.” + </p> + <p> + “Did anybody else see it? No? You say no? You're sure? Then say nothing + about it, Liza—nothing whatever—that's a good girl.” + </p> + <p> + The newspaper was full of the mysterious disappearance. Not a trace of the + Father had yet been found. The idea had been started that he had gone into + seclusion at the Anglican monastery with which he was associated, but on + inquiry at Bishopsgate Street it was found that nothing had been seen of + him there. Since yesterday the whole of London had been scoured by the + police, but not one fact had been brought to light to make clearer the + mystery of his going away. With the most noticeable face and habit in + London he had evaded scrutiny and gone into a retirement which baffled + discovery. No master of the stage art could have devised a more + sensational disappearance. He had vanished as though whirled to heaven in + a cloud, and that was literally what the more fanatical of his followers + believed to have been his fate. Among these persons there were wild-eyed + hangers-on telling of a flight upward on a fiery chariot, as well as a + predicted disappearance and reappearance after three days. Such were the + stories being gulped down by the thousands who still clung with an + indefinable fascination to the memory of the charlatan. Meantime the + soldier Wilkes had died of his injuries, and the coroner's inquiry was to + be opened that day. + </p> + <p> + “Unfeeling brutes! The bloodhound is an angel of mercy compared to them,” + thought Glory, but the worst sting was in the thought that John had fled + out of fear and was now in hiding somewhere. + </p> + <p> + Toward noon the newsboys were rushing through the Inn, crying their papers + against all regulations, and at the same moment Rosa came in to say that + John Storm had surrendered. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it!” cried Glory; “I knew he would!” + </p> + <p> + Then Rosa told her of Brother Andrew's attempt to personate his master, + and with what pitiful circumstances it had ended. + </p> + <p> + “Only a lay brother, you say, Rosa?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a poor half-witted soul apparently—must have been, to imagine + that a subterfuge like that would succeed in London.” + </p> + <p> + Glory's eyes were gleaming. “Rosa,” she said, “I would rather have done + what he did than play the greatest part in the world.” + </p> + <p> + She wished to be present at the trial, and proposed to Rosa that she + should go with her. + </p> + <p> + “But dare you, my child? Considering your old friendship, dare you see him——” + </p> + <p> + “Dare I?” said Glory. “Dare I stand in the dock by his side!” + </p> + <p> + But when she got to Bow Street and saw the crowds in the court, the line + of distinguished persons of both sexes allowed to sit on the bench, the + army of reporters and newspaper artists, and all the mass of smiling and + eager faces, without ruth or pity, gathered together as for a show, her + heart sickened and she crept out of the place before the prisoner was + brought into the dock. + </p> + <p> + Walking to and fro in the corridor, she waited the result of the trial. It + was not a long one. The charge was that of causing people unlawfully to + assemble to the danger of the public peace. There was no defence. A man + with a bandaged forehead was the first of the witnesses. He was a + publican, who lived in Brown's Square and had been a friend of the soldier + Wilkes. The injury to his forehead was the result of a blow from a stick + given by the prisoner's lay brother on the night of the Derby, when, with + the help of the deceased, he had attempted to liberate the bloodhound. He + had much to say of the Father's sermons, his speeches, his predictions, + his slanders, and his disloyalty. Other witnesses were Pincher and + Hawkins. They were in a state of abject fear at the fate hanging over + their own heads, and tried to save their own skins by laying the blame of + their own conduct upon the Father. The last witness was Brother Andrew, + and he broke down utterly. Within an hour Rosa came out to say that John + Storm had been committed for trial. Bail was not asked for, and the + prisoner, who had not uttered a word from first to last, had been taken + back to the cells. + </p> + <p> + Glory hurried home and shut herself in her room. The newsboys in the + street were shouting, “Father Storm in the dock!” and filling the air with + their cries. She covered her ears with her hands, and made noises in her + throat that she might not hear. + </p> + <p> + John Storm's career was at an end. It was all her fault. If she had + yielded to his desire to leave London, or if she had joined him there, how + different everything must have been! But she had broken in upon his life + and wrecked it. She had sinned against him who had given her everything + that one human soul can give another. + </p> + <p> + Liza came up with, red eyes, bringing the evening papers and a letter. The + papers contained long reports of the trial and short editorials reproving + the public for its interest in such a poor impostor. Some of them + contained sketches of the prisoner and of the distinguished persons + recognised in court. “The stage was represented by——,” and + then a caricature of herself. + </p> + <p> + The letter was from Aunt Rachel: + </p> + <p> + “My Dear, My Best-Beloved Glory: I know how much your kind <i>heart</i> + will be lowered by the painful tidings I have to write to you. Lord Storm + died on Monday and was buried to-day. To the last he declared he would + never consent to make peace with John, and he has left nothing to him but + his title, so that our dear friend is now a nobleman without an estate. + Everybody about the old lord at the end was unanimous in favour of his + son, but he would not listen to them, and the scene at the deathbed was + shocking. It seems that with his dying breath and many bursts of laughter + he read aloud his will, which ordered that his effects should be sold and + the proceeds given to some society for the protection of the Established + Church. And then he told old Chaise that as soon as he was gone a coffin + was to be got and he was to be screwed down at once, 'for,' said he, 'my + son would not come to see me <i>living</i>, and he sha'n't stand grinning + at me <i>dead</i>.' The funeral was at Kirkpatrick this morning, and <i>few</i> + came to see the last of one who had left none to mourn him; but just as + the remains were being deposited in the dark vault a carriage drove up and + an elderly gentleman got out. No one knew him, and he stood and looked + down with his impassive face while the service was being read, and then, + without speaking to any one, he got back into the carriage and drove away. + The <i>minute</i> he was gone I told Anna he was somebody of consequence; + and then everybody said it must be Lord Storm's brother and no less a + person than the Prime Minister of England. It seems that the sale is to + come off immediately, so that Knockaloe will be a waste, as if sown with + salt; and, so far as this island is concerned, all trace of the Storms, + father and son, will be gone for good. I ever knew it must end thus! But I + will more particularly tell you everything when we meet again, which I + hope may be <i>soon</i>. Meantime I need not say how much I am, my dear + child, your ever fond—nay, more than fond—<i>devoted</i> + auntie. + </p> + <p> + “Rachel.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. + </h2> + <p> + “Yes,” said Rosa, across the dinner table, “the sudden fall of a man who + has filled a large space in the public eye is always pitiful. It is like + the fall of a great tree in the forest. One never realized how big it was + until it was down.” + </p> + <p> + “It's awful! awful!” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Whether one liked the man or not, such a downfall seems hard to reconcile + with the idea of a beneficent Providence.” + </p> + <p> + “Hard? Impossible, you mean!” + </p> + <p> + “Glory!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm only a pagan, and always have been; but I can't believe in a God + that does nothing—I won't, I won't!” + </p> + <p> + “Still, we can't see the end yet. After the cross the resurrection, as the + Church folks say; and who knows but out of all this——” + </p> + <p> + “What's to become of his church?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there'll be people enough to see to that, and if the dear Archdeacon—but + he's busy with Mrs. Macrae, bless him! She has gone to wreck at last, and + is living hidden away in a farmhouse somewhere, that she may drink herself + to death without detection and interruption. But the Archdeacon and Lord + Robert have found her out, and there they are hovering round like two + vultures, waiting for the end.” + </p> + <p> + “And his orphanage?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that's another pair of shoes altogether, dear. Being an institution + that asks for an income instead of giving one, there'll be nobody too keen + to take it over.” + </p> + <p> + “O God! O God! What a world it is!” cried Glory. + </p> + <p> + After dinner she went off to Westminster in search of the orphanage. It + stood on a corner of the church square. The door was closed, and the + windows of the ground floor were shuttered. With difficulty she obtained + admission and access to the person in charge. This was an elderly lady in + a black silk dress and with snow-white hair. + </p> + <p> + “I'm no the matron, miss,” she said. “The matron's gone—fled awa' + like a' the lave o' the grand Sisters, thinking sure the mob would mak' + this house their next point of attack.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I know whom <i>you</i> are—you're Mrs. Callender,” said Glory. + </p> + <p> + “Jane Callender I am, young leddy. And who may ye be yersel'?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a friend of John's, and I want to know if there's anything——” + </p> + <p> + “You're no the lassie hersel', are ye? You are, though; I see fine you + are! Come, kiss me—again, lassie! Oh, dear! oh, dear! And to think + we must be meeting same as this! For a' the world it's like clasping hands + ower the puir laddie's grave!” + </p> + <p> + They cried in each other's arms, and then both felt better. + </p> + <p> + “And the children,” said Glory, “who's looking after them if the matron + and Sisters are gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Just me and the puir bairns theirsel's, and the wee maid of all wark that + opened the door til ye. But come your ways and look at them.” + </p> + <p> + The dormitory was in an upper story. Mrs. Gallender had opened the door + softly, and Glory stepped into a large dark room in which fifty children + lay asleep. Their breathing was all that could be heard, and it seemed to + fill the air as with the rustle of a gentle breeze. But it was hard to + look upon them and to think of their only earthly father in his cell. With + full hearts and dry throats the two women returned to a room below. + </p> + <p> + By this time the square, which before had only shown people standing in + doorways and lounging at street corners, was crowded with a noisy rabble. + They were shouting out indecent jokes about “monks,” “his reverend + lordship,” and “doctors of diwinity”; and a small gang of them had got a + rope which they were trying to throw as a lasso round a figure of the + Virgin in a niche over the porch. The figure came down at length amid + shrieks of delight, and when the police charged the mob they flung stones + which broke the church windows. + </p> + <p> + Again Glory felt an impulse to throw herself on the cowardly rabble, but + she only crouched at the window by the side of Mrs. Callender, and looked + down at the sea of faces below with their evil eyes and cruel mouths. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a thing it is to be a woman!” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, lassie, aye, there's mair than one of us has felt that,” said Mrs. + Callender. + </p> + <p> + Glory did not speak again as long as they knelt by the window, holding + each other's hands, but the tears that had sprung to her eyes at the + thought of her helplessness dried up of themselves, and in their place + came the light of a great resolution. She knew that her hour had struck at + last—that this was the beginning of the end. + </p> + <p> + The theatres were emptying and carriages were rolling away from them as + she drove home by way of the Strand. She saw her name on omnibuses and her + picture on boardings, and felt a sharp pang. But she was in a state of + feverish excitement and the pain was gone in a moment. + </p> + <p> + Another letter from Drake was waiting for her at the Inn: + </p> + <p> + “I feel, my dear Glory, that you are entirely justified in your silence, + but to show you how deep is my regret, I am about to put it in my power to + atone, as far as I can, for the conduct which has quite properly troubled + and hurt you. You will put me under an eternal obligation to you if you + will consent to become my wife. We should be friends as well as lovers, + Glory, and in an age distinguished for brilliant and beautiful women, it + would be the crown of my honour that my wife was above all a woman of + genius. Nothing should disturb the development of your gifts, and if any + social claims conflicted with them, they, and not you, would suffer. For + the rest I can bring you nothing, dear, but—thanks to the good + father who was born before me—such advantages as belong to wealth. + But so far as these go there is no pleasure you need deny yourself, and if + your sympathies are set on any good work for humanity there is no + opportunity you may not command. With this I can only offer you the love + and devotion of my whole heart and soul, which now wait in fear and pain + for your reply.” + </p> + <p> + Glory read this letter with a certain quivering of the eyelids, but she + put it away without a qualm. Nevertheless, the letter was hard to reply + to, and she made many attempts without satisfying herself in the end. + There was a note of falsehood in all of them, and she felt troubled and + ashamed: + </p> + <p> + “When I remember how good you have been to me from the first, I could cry + to think of the answer I must give you. But I can't help it—oh, I + can't, I can't! Don't think me ungrateful, and don't suppose I am angry or + in any way hurt or offended, but to do what you desire is impossible—quite, + quite impossible. Oh, if you only knew what it is to deny myself the + future you offer me, to turn my back on the gladness with which life has + come to me, to strip all these roses from my hair, you would believe it + must be a far, far higher call than to worldly rank and greatness that I + am listening to at last. And it is. A woman may trifle with her heart, + while the one she loves is well and happy or great and prosperous, but + when he is down and the cruel world is trampling on him, there can be no + paltering with it any longer—-Yes, I must go to <i>him</i> if I go + to anybody. Besides, you can do without me and he can not. You have all + the world, and he has nothing but me. If you were a woman you would + understand all this, but you are loyal and brave and true, and when I look + at your letter and remember how often you have spoken up for a fallen man + my heart quivers and my eyes grow dim, and I know what it means to be an + English gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + After writing this letter she went up to her bedroom and busied herself + about for an hour, making up parcels of her clothing and jewellery, and + labelling them with envelopes bearing names. The plainer costumes she + addressed to Aunt Anna, a fur-lined coat to Aunt Rachel, an opera cloak to + Rosa, and a quantity of underclothing to Liza. All her jewels, and nearly + all the silver trinkets from the dressing-table, were made up in a parcel + by themselves and addressed back to the giver—Sir Francis Drake. + </p> + <p> + The clock of St. Clement's Danes was chiming midnight when this was done, + and she stood a moment and asked herself, “Is there anything else?” Then + there was a slippered foot on the stair, and somebody knocked. + </p> + <p> + “It's only me, miss, and can I do anythink for ye?” + </p> + <p> + Glory opened the door and found Liza there, half dressed and looking as if + she had been crying. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Liza, nothing, thank you! But why aren't you in bed?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't sleep a blessed wink to-night somehow, miss,” said Liza. And + then, looking into the room, “But are ye goin' away somewhere. Miss + Gloria?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Thort ye was—I could hear ye downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Not far, though—just a little journey—go back to bed now. + Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, miss,” and Liza went down with lingering footsteps. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour or so afterward Glory heard Rosa come in from the office and + pass up to her bedroom on the floor above. “Dear, unselfish soul!” she + thought, and then she sat down to write another letter: + </p> + <p> + “Darling Rosa: I am going to leave you, but there is no help for it—I + must. Don't you remember I used to say if I should ever find a man who was + willing to sacrifice all the world for me I would leave everything and + follow him? I have found him, dear, and he has not only sacrificed all the + world for my sake, but trampled on Heaven itself. I can't go to him now—would + to Heaven I could!—but neither can I go on living this present life + any longer. So I am turning my back on it all, exactly as I said I would—the + world, so sweet and so cruel; art, so beautiful and so difficult, and even + 'the clapping of hands in a theatre.' You will say I am a donkey, and so I + may be, but it must be a descendant of Balaam's old friend, who knew the + way she ought to go. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me that I am going without saying good-bye. It is enough to have + to resist the battering of one's own doubts without encountering your dear + solicitations. And forgive me that I am not telling you where I am going + and what is to become of me. You will be questioned and examined, and I + feel as much frightened of being overtaken by my old existence as the poor + simpleton who took it into his head that he was a grain of barley, and as + often as he saw a cock or a hen he ran for his life. Thank you, dearest, + for allowing me to share your sweet rooms with you, for the bright hours + we have spent in them, and all the merry jaunts we have had together. + There will be fewer creature comforts where I am going to, and my feet + will not be so quick to do evil, which will at least be a saving of + shoe-leather. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, old girl—loyal, unselfish, devoted friend! God will + reward you yet, and a good man who has been chasing a Will-o'-the-wisp + will open his eyes to see that all the time the star of the morning has + been by his side. Tomorrow, when I leave the house, I know I shall want to + run up and kiss you as you lie asleep, but I mustn't do that—the + little druggeted stairs to your room would be like the road to another but + not a better place, which is also paved with good intentions. What a + scatter-brain I am! My heart is breaking, too, with all this severing of + my poor little riven cords. Your foolish old chummie (the last of her), + </p> + <p> + “Glory.” + </p> + <p> + Next morning, almost as soon as it was light, she rose and drew a little + tin box from under the bed. It was the box that had brought all her + belongings to London when she first came from her island home. Out of this + box she took a simple gray costume—the costume she had bought for + outdoor wear when a nurse at the hospital. Putting it on, she looked at + herself in the glass. The plain gray figure, so unlike what she had been + the night before, sent a little stab to her heart, and she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “But this is Glory, after all,” she thought. “This is the granddaughter of + my grandfather, the daughter of my father, and not the visionary woman who + has been masquerading in London so long.” But the conceit did not comfort + her very much, and scalding tear-drops began to fall. + </p> + <p> + Tying up some other clothing into a little bundle, she opened the door and + listened. There was no noise in the house, and she crept downstairs with a + light tread. At the drawing-room she paused and took one last look round + at the place where she had spent so many exciting hours, and lived through + such various phases of life. While she stood on the threshold there was a + sound of heavy breathing. It came from the pug, which lay coiled up on the + sofa, asleep. Reproaching herself with having forgotten the little thing, + she took it up in her arms and hushed it when it awoke and began to whine. + Then she crept down to the front door, opened it softly, passed out, and + closed it after her. There was a click of the lock in the silent gardens, + and then no sound anywhere but the chirrup of the sparrows in the eaves. + </p> + <p> + The sun was beginning to climb over the cool and quiet streets as she went + along, and some cabmen at the stand looked over at the woman in nurse's + dress, with a little bundle in one hand and the dog under the other arm. + “Been to a death, p'r'aps. Some uv these nurses, they've tender 'earts, + bless 'em, and when I was in the 'awspital——” But she turned + her head and hurried on, and the voice was lost in the empty air. + </p> + <p> + As she dipped into the slums of Westminster the sun gleamed on her wet + face, and a group of noisy, happy girls, going to their work in the jam + factories of Soho, came toward her laughing. + </p> + <p> + The girls looked at the Sister as she passed; their tongues stopped, and + there was a hush. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. + </h2> + <p> + John Storm's enemies had succeeded. He was committed for sedition, and + there was the probability that when brought up again he would be charged + with complicity in manslaughter. Throughout the proceedings at the police + court he maintained a calm and dignified silence. Supported by an exalted + faith, he regarded even death with composure. When the trial was over and + the policeman who stood at the back of the dock tapped him on the arm, he + started like a man whose mind had been occupied by other issues. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said the policeman, and he was taken back to the cells. + </p> + <p> + Next day he was removed to Holloway, and there he observed the same calm + and silent attitude. His bearing touched and impressed the authorities, + and they tried by various small kindnesses to make his imprisonment easy. + He encouraged them but little. + </p> + <p> + On the second morning an officer came to his cell and said, “Perhaps you + would care to look at the newspaper, Father?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, no,” he answered. “The newspapers were never much to me even + when I was living in the world—they can not be necessary now that I + am going out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, you exaggerate your danger. Besides, now that the papers + contain so much about yourself——” + </p> + <p> + “That is a reason why I should not see them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, to tell you the truth, Father, this morning's paper has something + about somebody else, and that was why I brought it.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody near to you—very near and—— But I'll leave it + with you——Nothing to complain of this morning—no?” + </p> + <p> + But John Storm was already deep in the columns of the newspaper. He found + the news intended for him. It was the death of his father. The paragraph + was cruel and merciless. “Thus the unhappy man who was brought up at Bow + Street two days ago is now a peer in his own right and the immediate heir + to an earldom.” + </p> + <p> + The moment was a bitter and terrible one. Memories of past years swept + over him—half-forgotten incidents of his boyhood when his father was + his only friend and he walked with his hand in his—memories of his + father's love for him, his hopes, his aims, his ambitions, and all the + vast ado of his poor delusive dreams. And then came thoughts of the broken + old man dying alone, and of himself in his prison cell. It had been a + strangely familiar thought to him of late that if he left London at seven + in the morning he could speak to his father at seven the same night. And + now his father was gone, the last opportunity was lost, and he could speak + to him no more. + </p> + <p> + But he tried to conquer the call of blood which he had put aside so long, + and to set over against it the claims of his exalted mission and the + spirit of the teaching of Christ. What had Christ said? “Call no man your + father upon the earth; for one is your Father which is in heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he thought, “that's it—'for one is your Father which is in + heaven.'” + </p> + <p> + Then he took up the newspaper again, thinking to read with a calmer mind + the report of his father's death and burial, but his eye fell on a + different matter. + </p> + <p> + “ANOTHER MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE.—Hardly has the public mind + recovered from the perplexity attending the disappearance of a well-known + clergyman from Westminster, when the news comes of a no less mysterious + disappearance of a popular actress from a West-End theatre.” + </p> + <p> + It was Glory! + </p> + <p> + “Although a recent acquisition to the stage and the latest English actress + to come into her heritage of fame, she was already a universal favourite, + and her sudden and unaccountable disappearance is a shock as well as a + surprise. To the disappointment of the public she had not played her part + for nearly a week, having excused herself on the ground of indisposition, + but there was apparently nothing in the state of her health to give cause + for anxiety or to prepare her friends for the step she has taken. What has + become of her appears to be entirely beyond conjecture, but her colleagues + and associates are still hoping for the hest, though the tone of a letter + left behind gives only too much reason to fear a sad and perhaps fatal + sequel.” + </p> + <p> + When the officer entered the cell again an hour after his first visit, + John Storm was pallid and thin and gray. The sublime faith he had built up + for himself had fallen to ruins, a cloud had hidden the face of the Father + which was in heaven, and the death he had waited for as the crown of his + life seemed to be no better than an abject end to a career that had + failed. + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up,” said the officer; “I've some good news for you, at all + events.” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner smiled sadly and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Bail was offered and accepted at Bow Street this morning, and you will be + at liberty to leave us to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” said John, and his manner changed immediately. + </p> + <p> + “Well, not just yet, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “For the love of God, sir, let me go at once! I have something to + do-somebody to look for and find.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, for your own security, Father——” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't know that the mob sent a dog out in search of you 2” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't know that; but if all the dogs of Christendom——” + </p> + <p> + “There are worse dogs waiting for you than any that go on four legs, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “That's nothing, sir, nothing at all; and if bail has been accepted, + surely it is your duty to liberate me at once. I claim—I demand that + you should do so!” + </p> + <p> + The officer raised his eyes in astonishment. “You surprise me, Father. + After your calmness and patience and submission to authority too!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm remained silent for a moment, and then he said, with a touching + solemnity: “You must forgive me, sir. You are very good—everybody is + good to me here. Still, I am not afraid, and if you can let me go——” + </p> + <p> + The officer left him. It was several hours before he returned. By this + time the long summer day had closed in, and it was quite dark. + </p> + <p> + “They think you've gone. You can leave now. Come this way.” + </p> + <p> + At the door of the office some minutes afterward John Storm paused with + the officer's hand in his, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is needless to ask who is my bail” (he was thinking of Mrs. + Callender), “but if you can tell me——” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. It was Sir Francis Drake.” + </p> + <p> + John Storm bowed gravely and turned away. As he passed out of the yard his + eyes were bent on the ground and his step was slow and feeble. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + At that moment Drake was on his way to the Corinthian Club. Early in the + afternoon he had seen this letter in the columns of an evening paper: + </p> + <p> + “The Mysterious Disappearances.—Is it not extraordinary that in + discussing 'the epidemic of mystery' which now fills the air of London it + has apparently never occurred to any one that the two mysterious + disappearances which are the text of so many sermons may be really one + disappearance only, that the 'man of God' and the 'woman of the theatre' + may have acted in collusion, from the same impulse and with the same + expectation, and that the rich and beneficent person who (according to the + latest report) has come to the rescue of the one, and is an active agent + in looking for the other, is in reality the foolish though well-meaning + victim of both?—R. U.” + </p> + <p> + For three hours Drake had searched for Lord Robert with flame in his eyes + and fury in his looks. Going first to Belgrave Square, he had found the + blinds down and the house shut up. Mrs. Macrae was dead. She had died at a + lodging in the country, alone and unattended. Her wealth had not been able + to buy the devotion of one faithful servant at the end. She had left + nothing to her daughter except a remonstrance against her behaviour, but + she had made Lord Robert her chief heir and sole executor. + </p> + <p> + That amiable mourner had returned to London with all possible despatch as + soon as the breath was out of his mother-in-law's body and arrangements + were made for its transit. He was now engaged in relieving the tension of + so much unusual emotion by a round of his nightly pleasures. Drake had + come up with him at last. + </p> + <p> + The Corinthian Club was unusually gay that night, “Hello there!” came from + every side. The music in the ballroom was louder than ever, and, judging + by the numbers of the dancers, the attraction of “Tra-la-la” was even + greater than before. There was the note of yet more reckless license + everywhere, as if that little world whose life was pleasure had been under + the cloud of a temporary terror and was determined to make up for it by + the wildest folly. The men chaffed and laughed and shouted comic songs and + kicked their legs about; the women drank and giggled. + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert was in the supper-room with three guests—the “three + graces.” The women were in full evening dress. Betty was wearing the ring + she had taken from Polly “just to remember her by, pore thing,” and the + others were blazing in similar brilliants. The wretched man himself was + half drunk. He had been talking of Father Storm and of his own wife in a + jaunty tone, behind which there was an intensity of hatred. + </p> + <p> + “But this panic of his, don't you know, was the funniest thing ever heard + of. Going home that night I counted seventeen people on their knees in the + streets—'pon my soul I did! Eleven old women of eighty, two or three + of seventy, and one or two that might be as young as sixty-nine. Then the + epidemic of piety in high life too! Several of our millionaires gave + sixpence apiece to beggars—were seen to do it, don't you know. One + old girl gave up playing baccarat and subscribed to 'Darkest England.' No + end of sweet little women confessed their pretty weaknesses to their + husbands, and now that the world is wagging along as merrily as before, + they don't know what the devil they are to do—— But look + here!” + </p> + <p> + Out of his trousers pockets at either side he tugged a torn and crumpled + assortment of letters and proceeded to tumble them on to the table. + </p> + <p> + “These are a few of the applications I had from curates-in-charge and such + beauties for the care of the living in Westminster while the other + gentleman lay in jail. It's the Bishop's right to appoint the creature, + don't you know, but they think a patron's recommendation—— Oh, + they're a sweet team! Listen to this: 'May it please your lordship——'” + </p> + <p> + And then in mock tones, flourishing one hand, the man read aloud amid the + various noises of the place—the pop of champagne bottles and the + rumble of the dancing in the room below—the fulsome letters he had + received from clergymen. The wretched women in their paint and patches + shrieked with laughter. + </p> + <p> + It was at that moment Drake came up, looking pale and fierce. + </p> + <p> + “Hello there! Is it you? Sit down and take a glass of fizz.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at this table,” said Drake. “I prefer to drink with friends.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert's eyes glistened, and he tried to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Really? Thought I was counted in that distinguished company, don't you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “So you were, but I've come to see that a friend who is not a friend is + always the worst enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean?” said Drake, throwing the paper on to the table. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “The initials to that letter are yours, and all the men I meet tell me + that you have written it.” + </p> + <p> + “They do, do they? Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't ask you if you did or if you didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, dear boy.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'll require you to disown it, publicly and at once.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I won't—what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll tell the public for myself that it's a lie, a cowardly and + contemptible lie, and that the man who wrote it is a cur!” + </p> + <p> + “Oho! So it's like that, is it?” said Lord Robert, rising to his feet as + if putting himself on guard. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it <i>is</i> like that, Lord Robert Ure, because the woman who is + slandered in that letter is as innocent as your own wife, and ten thousand + times as pure as those who are your constant company.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Robert's angular and ugly face glistened with a hateful smile. + “Innocent!” he cried hoarsely, and then he laughed out aloud. “Go on! It's + rippin' to hear you, dear boy! Innocent, by God! Just as innocent as any + other ballet girl who is dragged through the stews of London, and then + picked up at last by the born fool who keeps her for another man.” + </p> + <p> + “You liar!” cried Drake, and like a flash of light he had shot his fist + across the table and struck the man full in the face. Then laying hold of + the table itself, he swept it away with all that was on it, and sprang at + Lord Robert and took him by the throat. + </p> + <p> + “Take that back, will you? Take it back!” + </p> + <p> + “I won't!” cried Lord Robert, writhing and struggling in his grip. + </p> + <p> + “Then take that—and that—and that—damn you!” cried + Drake, showering blow after blow, and finally flinging the man into the <i>débris</i> + of what had fallen from the table with a crash. + </p> + <p> + The women were screaming by this time and all the house was in alarm. But + Drake went out with long strides and a ferocious face, and no one + attempted to stop him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. + </h2> + <p> + Returning to St. James's Street, Drake found John Storm waiting in his + rooms. The men had changed a good deal since they last met, and the faces + of both showed suffering. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me for this visit,” said Storm. “It was my first duty to call and + thank you for what you've done.” + </p> + <p> + “That's nothing—nothing at all,” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “I had also another object. You'll know what that is.” + </p> + <p> + Drake bowed his head. + </p> + <p> + “She is gone, it seems, and there is no trace left of her.” + </p> + <p> + “None?” + </p> + <p> + “Then <i>you</i> know nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! And you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever!” + </p> + <p> + Drake bowed his head again. “I knew it was a lie—that she had gone + after you—I never believed that story.” + </p> + <p> + “Would to God she had!” said Storm fervently, and Drake flinched, but bore + himself bravely. “When did she go?” + </p> + <p> + “Two days ago, apparently.” + </p> + <p> + “Has anybody looked for her?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> have—everywhere—everywhere I can think of. But this + London——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I know—I know!” + </p> + <p> + “For two days I have never rested, and all last night.” + </p> + <p> + Storm's eyes were watching the twitchings of Drake's face. He had been + sitting uneasily on his chair, and now he rose from it. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going already?” said Drake. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Storm. Then in a husky voice he added: “I don't know if we + shall ever meet again, you and I. When death breaks the link that binds + people——” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake don't say that!” + </p> + <p> + “But it <i>is</i> so, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows! Certainly the letter she left behind—the letter to + Rosa—— Poor child, she was such a creature of joy—so + bright, so brilliant! And then to think of her—— I was much to + blame—I came between you. But if I had once realized——” + </p> + <p> + Drake stopped, and the men fixed their eyes on each other for a moment, + and then turned their heads away. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I've done you a great injustice, sir,” said Storm. + </p> + <p> + “Me?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought she was only your toy, your plaything. But perhaps” (his voice + was breaking)—“perhaps you loved her too.” + </p> + <p> + Drake answered, almost inaudibly, “With all my heart and soul!” + </p> + <p> + “Then—then we have <i>both</i> lost her!” + </p> + <p> + “Both!” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment. The hands of the two men met and clasped + and parted. + </p> + <p> + “I must go,” said Storm, and he moved across the room with a look of utter + weariness. + </p> + <p> + “But where are you going to?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—anywhere—nowhere—it doesn't matter now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well——” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + Drake stood at the door below until the slow, uncertain footsteps had + turned the corner of the street and died away. + </p> + <p> + John Storm was sure now. Overwhelmed by his own disgrace, ashamed of his + downfall, and perhaps with a sense of her own share in it, Glory had + destroyed herself. + </p> + <p> + Strange contradiction! Much as he had hated Glory's way of life, there + came to him at the moment a deep remorse at the thought that he had been + the means of putting an end to it. And then her gay and happy spirit + clouded by his own disasters! Her good name stained by association with + his evil one! Her pure soul imperilled by his sin and fall! + </p> + <p> + But it was now very late and he began to ask himself where he was to + sleep. At first he thought of his old quarters under the church, and then + he told himself that Brother Andrew would be gone by this time, and that + everything connected with the parish must be transferred to other keeping. + Going by a hotel in Trafalgar Square he stepped in and asked for a bed. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” said the clerk, who was polite and deferential. + </p> + <p> + “Can I have something to eat, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Coffee-room to the left, sir. Luggage coming, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no luggage to-night,” he answered, and then he saw that the clerk + looked at him doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + The coffee-room was empty and only half lit up, for dinner was long over + and the business of the day was done. John was sitting at his meal, eating + his food with his eyes down and hardly conscious of what was going on + around, when he became aware that from time to time people opened the room + door and looked across at him, then whispered together and passed out. At + length the clerk came up to him with awkward manners and a look of + constraint. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir, but—are you Father Storm?” + </p> + <p> + John bent his head. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'm sorry to say we can not accommodate you—we dare not—we + must request you to leave.” + </p> + <p> + John rose without a word, paid his bill, and left the place. + </p> + <p> + But where was he to go to? What house would receive him? If one hotel + refused him, all other hotels in London would do the same. Then he + remembered the shelter which he had himself established for the + undeserving poor. The humiliation of that moment was terrible. But no + matter! He would drink the cup of God's anger to the dregs. + </p> + <p> + The lamp was burning in the clock tower of the Houses of Parliament, and + as John passed by the corner of Palace Yard two Bishops came out in + earnest conversation, and walked on in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “The State and the Church are as the body and soul,” said one, “and to + separate them would be death to both.” + </p> + <p> + “Just that,” said the other, “and therefore we must fight for the Church's + temporal possessions as we should contend for her spiritual rights; and so + these Benefice Bills——” + </p> + <p> + The shelter was at the point of closing, and Jupe was putting out the lamp + over the door as John stepped up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” said Jupe in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know me, Jupe?” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Father Jawn Storm!” cried the man in a whisper of fear. + </p> + <p> + “I want shelter for the night, Jupe. Can you put me up anywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “You, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The man was staggered and the long rod in his hand shook like a reed. Then + he began to stammer something about the Bishop and the Archdeacon and his + new orders and instructions—how the shelter had been taken over by + other authorities, and he was now—— + </p> + <p> + “But d—- it all!” he said, stopping suddenly, putting his foot down + firmly, and wagging his head to right and left like a man making a brave + resolution, “I'll tyke ye in, sir, and heng it!” + </p> + <p> + It was the bitterest pill of all, but John swallowed it, and stepped into + the house. As he did so he was partly aware of some tumult in a + neighbouring street, with the screaming of men and women and the barking + of dogs. + </p> + <p> + The blankets had been served out for the night and the men in the shelter + were clambering up to their bunks. In addition to the main apartment there + was a little room with a glass front which hung like a cage near to the + ceiling at one end and was entered by a circular iron stair. This was the + keeper's own sleeping place, and Jupe was making it ready for John, while + John himself sat waiting with the look of a crushed and humiliated man, + when the tumult in the street came nearer and at last drew up in front of + the house. + </p> + <p> + “Wot's thet?” the men asked each other, lifting their heads, and Jupe came + down and went to the door. When he returned his face was white, the sweat + hung on his forehead, and a trembling shook his whole body. + </p> + <p> + “For Gawd's sake, Father, leave the house at onct!” he whispered in great + agitation. “There's a gang outside as'll pull the place dahn if I keep + you.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment, save for the shouting outside, and then + John said, with a sigh and a look of resignation, “Very well, let me out, + then,” and he turned to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Not that wy, sir—this wy,” said Jupe, and at the next moment they + were stepping into a dark and narrow lane at the back. “Turn to the left + when ye get ter the bottom, Father—mind ye turn ter the left.” + </p> + <p> + But John Storm had scarcely heard him. His heart had failed him at last. + He saw the baseness and ingratitude of the people whom he had spent + himself to relieve and uplift and succour and comfort, and he repented + himself of the hopes and aims and efforts which had come to this + bankruptcy in the end. + </p> + <p> + “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” + </p> + <p> + Yes, yes, that was it! It was not this poor vile race merely, this stupid + and ungrateful humanity—it was God! God used one man's ignorance, + and another man's anger, and another man's hatred, and another man's + spite, and worked out his own ends through it all. And God had rejected + him, refused him, turned a deaf ear to his prayer and his repentance, + robbed him of friends, of affection, of love, and cast him out of the + family of man! + </p> + <p> + Very well! So be it! What should he do? He would go back to prison and + say: “Take me in again—there is no room left for me in the world. I + am alone, and my heart is dead within me!” + </p> + <p> + He was at the end of the dark lane by this time, and forgetting Jupe's + warning, and seeing a brightly lighted street running off to his right, he + swung round to it and walked boldly along. This was Old Pye Street, and he + had come to the corner at which it opens into Brown's Square when his + absent mind became conscious of the loud baying of a dog. At the next + moment the dog was at his feet, bounding about him with frantic delight, + leaping up to him as if trying to kiss him, and uttering meanwhile the + most tender, the most true, the most pitiful cries of love. + </p> + <p> + It was his own dog, the bloodhound Don! + </p> + <p> + His unworthy thoughts were, chased away at the sight of this one faithful + friend remaining, and he was stooping to fondle the great creature, to + pull at the long drapery of its ears and the pendulous folds of its + glorious forehead, when a short, sharp cry caused him to lift his head. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's 'im!” said somebody, and then he was aware that a group of men + with evil faces had gathered round. He knew them in a moment: the publican + with his bandaged head, Sharkey, who had served his time and been released + from prison, and Pincher and Hawkins, who were out on bail. They had all + been drinking. The publican, who carried a stick, was drunk, and the + “knocker-up” was staggering on a crutch. + </p> + <p> + Then came a hideous scene. The four men began to taunt John Storm, to take + off their hats and bow to him in mock honour. “His Lordship, I believe '” + said one. “His Reverend Lordship, if you please!” said another. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me; for God's sake, leave me!” said John. + </p> + <p> + But their taunts became more and more menacing. “Wot abart the end uv the + world, Father?” “Didn't ye tell me to sell my bit uv biziness?” “And + didn't ye say you'd cured me? and look at me now!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, I tell you, don't!” cried John, and he moved away. + </p> + <p> + They followed and began to push him. Then he stopped and cried in a loud + voice of struggle and agony: “Do you want to raise the devil in me? Go + home! Go home!” + </p> + <p> + But they only laughed and renewed their torment. His hat fell off and he + snatched at it to recover it. In doing so his hand struck somebody in the + face. “Strike a cripple, will ye?” said the publican, and he raised his + stick and struck a heavy blow on John's shoulder. At the next moment the + dog had leaped upon the man, and he was shrieking on the ground. The + “knocker-up” lifted his crutch and with the upper end of it he battered at + the dog's brains. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, man! stop, stop!—Don! Don!” + </p> + <p> + But the dog held on, and the man with the crutch continued to strike at + it, until Pincher, who had run to the other side of the street, came back + with a clasp knife and plunged it into the dog's neck. Then with a growl + and a whine and a pitiful cry the creature let go its hold and rolled + over, and the publican got on to his feet. + </p> + <p> + It was the beginning of the end. John Storm looked down at the dog in its + death-throes, and all the devil in his heart came up and mastered him. + There was a shop at the corner of the square, and some heavy chairs were + standing on the pavement. He took up one of these and swung it round him + like a toy, and the men fell on every side. + </p> + <p> + By this time the street was in commotion, and people were coming from + every court and yard and alley crying: + </p> + <p> + “A madman!” “Police!” “Lay hold of him!” “He'll kill somebody!” “Down with + him!” + </p> + <p> + John Storm was also shouting at the top of his voice, when suddenly he + felt a dull, stunning pain, without exactly knowing where. Then he felt + himself moving up, up, up—he was in a train, the train was going + through a tunnel, and the guards were screaming; then it was hot and at + the next moment it was cold, and still he was floating, floating; and then + he saw Glory—he heard her say something—and then he opened his + eyes, and lo! the dark sky was above him, and some women were speaking in + agitated voices over his face. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's Father Storm. The brutes! The beasts! And the pore dog, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! Where's the p'lice? What are we goin' to do with 'im, Aggie?” + </p> + <p> + “Tyke 'im to my room, thet's what.” + </p> + <p> + Then he heard Big Ben strike twelve, and then—— It was a long, + long journey, and the tunnel seemed to go on and on. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. + </h2> + <p> + Half an hour afterward there came to the door of the Orphanage the single + loud thud that is the knock of the poor. An upper window was opened, and a + tremulous voice from the street below cried, “Glory! Miss Gloria!” + </p> + <p> + It was Agatha Jones. Glory hastened downstairs and found the girl in great + agitation. One glance at her face in the candlelight seemed to tell all. + </p> + <p> + “You've found him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he's hurt. He's——” + </p> + <p> + “Be calm, child; tell me everything,” said Glory, and Aggie delivered her + message. + </p> + <p> + Since leaving Holloway, Father Storm had been followed and found by means + of the dog. The crowd had set on him and knocked him down and injured him. + He was now lying in Aggie's room. There had been nowhere else to take him + to, for the men had disappeared the moment he was down, and the women were + afraid to take him in. The police had come at last and they were now gone + for the parish doctor. Mrs. Pincher was with the Father, and the poor dog + was dead. + </p> + <p> + Glory held her hand over her heart while Aggie told her story. “I follow + you,” she said. “Did you tell him I was here? Did he send you to fetch + me?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't speak,” said Aggie. + </p> + <p> + “Is he unconscious?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go with you at once.” + </p> + <p> + Hurrying across the streets by Glory's side, Aggie apologized for her room + again. “I down't live thet wy now, you know,” she said. “It may seem + strange to you, but while my little boy was alive I couldn't go into the + streets to save my life—I couldn't do it. And when 'is pore father + died lahst week——” + </p> + <p> + The stone stairs to the tenement house were thronged with women. They + stood huddled together in groups like sheep in a storm. There was not a + man anywhere visible, except a drunken sailor, who was coming down from an + upper story whistling and singing. The women silenced him. Had he no + feelings? + </p> + <p> + “The doctor's came, Sister,” said a woman standing by Aggie's door. Then + Glory entered the room. + </p> + <p> + The poor disordered place was lit by a cheap lamp, which threw splashes of + light and left tracts of shadow. John lay on the bed, muttering words that + were inaudible. His coat and waistcoat had been removed, and his shirt was + open at the neck. The high wall of his forehead was marble white, but his + cheeks were red and feverish. One of his arms lay over the side of the bed + and Glory took it up and held it. Her great eyes were moist, but she did + not cry, neither did she speak or move. The doctor was bathing a wound at + the back of the head, and he looked up and nodded as Glory entered. At the + other side of the bed an elderly woman in a widow's cap was wiping her + eyes with her apron. + </p> + <p> + When the doctor was going away, Glory followed him to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Is he seriously injured, doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Very.” The doctor was a young man—quick, brusque, and emphatic. + </p> + <p> + “Not dange——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The brutes have done for him, nurse, though you needn't tell his + friends so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—there is—no chance—whatever?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a ghost of a chance. By the way, you might try to find out where his + friends are, and send a line to them. I'll be here in the morning. + Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + Glory staggered back to the room, with her hand pressed hard over her + heart, and the young doctor, going downstairs two steps at a stride, met a + police sergeant and a reporter coming up. “Cruel business, sir!” “Yes, but + just one of those things that can't easily be brought home to anybody.” + “Sad, though!” “Very sad!” + </p> + <p> + The short night seemed as if it would never end. When daylight came the + cheerless place was cleared of its refuse—its withered roses, its + cigarette ends and its heaps of left-off clothing. Toward eight o'clock + Glory hurried back to the Orphanage, leaving Aggie and Mrs. Pincher in + charge. John had been muttering the whole night, through, but he had never + once moved and he was still unconscious. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Sister!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, children!” + </p> + <p> + The little faces, fresh and bright from sleep, were waiting for their + breakfast. When the meal was over Glory wrote by express to Mrs. Callender + and to the Father Superior of the Brotherhood, then put on her bonnet and + cloak and turned toward Downing Street. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister had held an early Cabinet Council that morning. It was + observed by his colleagues that he looked depressed and preoccupied. When + the business of the day was done he rose to his feet rather feebly and + said: + </p> + <p> + “My lords and gentlemen, I have long had it in mind to say something—something + of importance—and I feel the impulse to say it now. We have been + doing our best with legislation affecting the Church, to give due reality + and true life to its relation with the State. But the longer I live the + more I feel that that relation is in itself a false one, injurious and + even dangerous to both alike. Never in history, so far as I know, and + certainly never within my own experience, has it been possible to maintain + the union of Church and State without frequent adultery and corruption. + The effort to do so has resulted in manifest impostures in sacred things, + in ceremonies without spiritual significance, and in gross travesties of + the solemn, worship of God. Speaking of our own Church, I will not + disguise my belief that, but for the good and true men who are always to + be found within its pale, it could not survive the frequent disregard of + principles which lie deep in the theory of Christianity. Its epicureanism, + its regard for the interests of the purse, its tendency to rank the + administrator above the apostle, are weeds that spring up out of the soil + of its marriage with the State. And when I think of the anomalies and + inequalities of its internal government, of its countless poor clergy, and + of its lords and princes, above all when I remember its apostolic + pretensions and the certainty that he who attempts to live within the + Church the real life of the apostles will incur the risk of that martyrdom + which it has always pronounced against innovators, I can not but believe + that the consciences of many Churchmen would be glad to be relieved of a + burden of State temptation which they feel to be hurtful and intolerable—to + render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's and unto God the things + that are God's. Be that as it may, I have now to tell you that feeling + this question to be paramount, yet despairing of dealing with it in the + few years that old age has left to me, I have concluded to resign my + office. It is for some younger statesman to fight this battle of the + separation between the spiritual and the temporal in the interests of true + religion and true civilization. God grant he may be a Christian man, and + God speed and bless him!” + </p> + <p> + The cabinet broke up with many unwonted expressions of affection for the + old leader, and many requests that he should “think again” over the step + he contemplated. But every one knew that he had set his heart on an + impossible enterprise, and every one felt that behind it lay the painful + impulse of an incident reported at length in the newspapers that morning. + </p> + <p> + Left alone in the cabinet room, the Prime Minister drew up his chair + before the empty grate and gave way to tender memories. He thought of John + Storm and the wreck his life had fallen to; of John's mother and her brave + renunciation of love; and finally of himself and his near retirement. A + spasm of the old lust of power came over him, and he saw himself—to-morrow, + next day, next week—delivering up his seals of office to the Queen, + and then—the next day after that—getting up from this chair + for the last time and going out of this room to return to it no more—his + work done, his life ended. + </p> + <p> + It was at that moment the footman came to say that a young lady in the + dress of a nurse was waiting in the hall. “A messenger from John,” he + thought. And, as he rose to receive her, heavily, wearily, and with the + burden of his years upon him, Glory came into the room with her quivering + face and two great tear-drops standing in her eyes, but glowing with youth + and health and courage. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, sit down. But——” looking at her again, “have you + been here before?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen you somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I was an actress once. And I am a friend of John's.” + </p> + <p> + “Of John's? Then you are——” + </p> + <p> + “I am Glory.” + </p> + <p> + “Glory! And so we meet at last, dear lady! But I <i>have</i> seen you + before. When he spoke of you, but did not bring you to see me, I took a + stolen glance at the theatre myself——” + </p> + <p> + “I have left it, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Left it?” + </p> + <p> + And then she told him what she had done. His old eyes glistened and his + head sank into his breast. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't that I came to talk about, my lord, but another and more + painful matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I relieve you of the burden of your message, my child? It has reached + me already. It is in all the morning newspapers.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think of that. Still the doctor told me to——” + </p> + <p> + “What does the doctor say about him?” + </p> + <p> + “He says——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “He says we are going to lose him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have sent for a great surgeon—But no doubt it is past help. Poor + boy! It seems only yesterday he came up to London so full of hope and + expectation. I can see him now with his great eyes, sitting in that chair + you occupy, talking of his plans and purposes. Poor John! To think he + should come to this! But these tumultuous souls whose hearts are + battlefields, when the battle is over what can be left but a waste?” + </p> + <p> + Glory's eyes had dried of themselves and she was looking at the old man + with an expression of pain, but he went on without observing her: + </p> + <p> + “It is one of the dark riddles of the inscrutable Power which rules over + life that the good man can go under like that, while the evil one lives + and prospers.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and walked to and fro before the fireplace. “Ah, well! The years + bring me an ever-deepening sadness, an ever-increasing sense of our + impotence to diminish, the infinite sorrow of the world.” + </p> + <p> + Then he looked down at Glory and said: “But I can hardly forgive him that + he has thrown away so much for so little. And when I think of you, my + child, and of all that might have been, and then of the bad end he has + come to——” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't call it coming to a bad end, sir,” said Glory in a quivering + voice. + </p> + <p> + “No? To be torn and buffeted and trampled down in the streets?” + </p> + <p> + “What of it? He might have died of old age in his bed and yet come to a + worse end than that.” + </p> + <p> + “True, but still——” + </p> + <p> + “If that is coming to a bad end I shall have to believe that my father, + who was a missionary, came to a bad end too when he was killed by the + fevers of Africa. Every martyr comes to a bad end if that is a bad ending. + And so does everybody who is brave and true and does good to humanity and + is willing to die for it. But it isn't bad. It's glorious! I would rather + be the daughter of a man who died like that than be the daughter of an + earl, and if I could have been the wife of one who was torn and trampled + down, in the streets by the very people——” + </p> + <p> + But her face, which had been aflame, broke into tears again and her voice + failed her. The old man could not speak, and there was silence for a + moment. Then she recovered herself and said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “I came to ask you if you could do something for me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You may have heard that John wished me to marry him?” + </p> + <p> + “Would to God you had done so!” + </p> + <p> + “That was when everybody was praising him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody is abusing him now, and railing at him and insulting him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to marry him at last if there is a way—if you think it is + possible and can be managed.” + </p> + <p> + “But you say he is a dying man!” + </p> + <p> + “That's why! When he comes to himself he will be thinking as you think, + that his life has been a failure, and I want somebody to be there and say: + 'It isn't, it is only beginning, it is the grain of mustard seed that <i>must</i> + die, but it will live in the heart of humanity for ages and ages to come; + and I would rather take up your name, injured and insulted as it is, than + win all the glory the world has in it.'” + </p> + <p> + The tears were coursing down the old man's face, and for some minutes he + did not attempt to speak. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “What you propose is quite possible. It will be a canonical marriage, but + it will take some little time to arrange. I must send across to Lambeth + Palace. Toward evening I can go down to where he lies and take the license + with me. Meantime speak to a clergyman and have everything in readiness.” + </p> + <p> + He walked with Glory down the long corridor to the door, and there he + kissed her on the forehead and said: + </p> + <p> + “I've long known that a woman can be brave, but meeting you this morning + has taught me something else, my child. Time and again I thought John's + love of you was near to madness. He was ready to give up everything for it—everything! + And he was right! Love like yours is the pearl of pearls, and he who wins + it is a prince of princes!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Later the same day, when the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his room, + a member of his cabinet brought him an evening paper containing an article + which was making a deep impression in London. It was understood to be + written by a journalist of Jewish extraction: + </p> + <p> + “'HIS BLOOD BE ON US AND ON OUR CHILDREN.' + </p> + <p> + “This prediction has been for eighteen hundred years the expression of an + historical truth. That the whole Jewish nation, and not Pilate or the + rabble of Jerusalem, killed Jesus is a fact which every Jew has been made + to feel down to the present day. But let the Christian nation that is + without sin toward the Founder of Christianity first cast a stone at the + Jews. If it is true, as Jesus himself said, that he who offers a cup of + cold water to the least of his little ones offers it to him, then it is + also true that he who inflicts torture and death on his followers + crucifies him afresh. The unhappy man who has been miserably murdered in + the slums of Westminster was a follower of Jesus if ever there lived one, + and whosoever the actual persons may be who are guilty of his death, the + true culprit is the Christian nation which has inflicted mockeries and + insults on everybody who has dared to stand alone under the ensign of + Christ. + </p> + <p> + “Let us not be led away by sneers. This man, whatever his errors, his + weaknesses, his self-delusions, and his many human failings, was a + Christian. He was the prophet of woman in relation to humanity as hardly + any one since Jesus has ever been. And he is hounded out of life. Thus, + after nineteen centuries, Christianity presents the same characteristics + of frightful tyranny which disfigured the old Jewish law. 'We have a law, + and by our law he ought to die.' Such is the sentence still pronounced on + reformers in a country where civil and religious laws are confounded. God + grant the other half of that doom may not also come true—'His blood + be on us and on our children!'” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. + </h2> + <p> + There was a crowd of people of all sorts outside the tenement house when + Glory returned to Brown's Square, and even the stairs were thronged with + them. “The nurse!” they whispered as Glory appeared, and they made a way + for her. Aggie was on the landing, wiping her eyes and answering the + questions of strangers, being half afraid of the notoriety her poor room + was achieving and half proud of it. + </p> + <p> + “The laidy 'as came, Miss Gloria, and she sent me to tell you to wyte 'ere + for 'er a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Then putting her head in at the open doer she beckoned and Mrs. Callender + came out. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! He's coming to. The poor laddie! He's been calling for ye, and + calling and calling. But he thinks ye're in heaven together, seemingly, so + ye must no say anything to shock him. Come your ways in now, and tak' + care, lassie.” + </p> + <p> + John was still wandering, and the light of another world was in his eyes, + but he was smiling, and he appeared to see. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” he said in the toneless voice of one who talks in his + sleep. + </p> + <p> + “She's here now. Look! She's close beside ye.” + </p> + <p> + Glory advanced a step and stood beside the bed, struggling with herself + not to fall upon his breast. He looked at her with a smile, but without + any surprise, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I knew that you would come to meet me, Glory! How happy you look! We + shall both be happy now.” + </p> + <p> + Then his eyes wandered about the poor, ill-furnished apartment, and he + said: + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful it is here! And how lightsome the air is! Look! The golden + gates! And the seven golden candlesticks! And the sea of glass like unto + crystal! And all the innumerable company of the angels!” + </p> + <p> + Aggie, who had returned to the room, was crying audibly. + </p> + <p> + “Are you crying. Glory? Foolish child to cry! But I know—I + understand! Put your dear hand in mine, my child, and we will go together + to God's throne and say: 'Father, you must forgive us two. We were but man + and woman, and we could not help but love each other, though it was a + fault, and for one of us it was a sin.' And God will forgive us, because + he made us so, and because God is the God of love.” + </p> + <p> + Glory could bear no more. “John!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + He raised himself on his elbow and held his head aslant, like one who + listens to a sound that comes from a distance. + </p> + <p> + “John!” + </p> + <p> + “That's Glory's voice.” + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> Glory, dearest.”' + </p> + <p> + The serenity in his face gave way to a look of bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “But Glory is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear, she is alive, and she will never leave you again.” + </p> + <p> + “What place is this?” + </p> + <p> + “This is Aggie's room.” + </p> + <p> + “Aggie?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember Aggie? One of the poor girls you fought and worked + for.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it your spirit, Glory?” + </p> + <p> + “It is myself, dearest, my very, very self.” + </p> + <p> + Then a great joy came into his eyes, his breast heaved, his breath came + quick, and without a word more he stretched out his arms. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “It is Glory! She is alive! My God! O my God!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Do you forgive me, Glory?” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive? There is nothing to forgive you for—except loving me too + well.” + </p> + <p> + “My darling! My darling!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “I thought I was in heaven, Glory, but I am like poor Buckingham—only + half way to it yet. Have I been unconscious?” + </p> + <p> + Glory nodded her head. + </p> + <p> + “Long?” + </p> + <p> + “Since last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I remember everything now. I was knocked down in the streets, wasn't + I? The men did it—Pincher, Hawking, and the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “They shall be punished, John,” said Glory in a quivering voice. “As sure + as heaven's above us and there's law in the land——” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, laddie” (from somewhere by the door), “mak' yersel' sure o' + that. There'll be never a man o' them but he'll hang for it same as a + polecat on a barn gate.” + </p> + <p> + But John shook his head. “Poor fellows! They didn't understand. When they + come to see what they've done—— 'Lord, Lord! lay not this sin + to their charge.'” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + She had wiped away the tears that sprung to her eyes and was sitting by + his side and smiling. Her white teeth were showing, her red lips were + twitching, and her face was full of sunshine. He was holding her hand and + gazing at her constantly as if he could not allow himself to lose sight of + her for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm half sorry, for all that, Glory,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry?” + </p> + <p> + “That we are not both in the other world, for there you were my bride, I + remember, and all our pains were over.” + </p> + <p> + Then her sweet face coloured up to the forehead, and she leaned over the + bed and whispered, “Ask me to be your bride in this one, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't! I daren't!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you thinking of the vows?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” emphatically. “But—I am a dying man—I know that quite + well. And what right have I——” + </p> + <p> + She gave a little gay toss of her golden head. “Pooh! Nobody was ever + married because he had a <i>right</i> to be exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is your own profession—your great career.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head gravely. “That's all over now.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” reaching up on his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “When you had gone and nearly everybody was deserting your work, I thought + I should like to take up a part of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Blessed be God! Oh, God is very good!” and he lay back and panted. + </p> + <p> + She laughed nervously. “Well, are you determined to make me ashamed? Am I + to throw myself at your head, sir? Or perhaps you are going to refuse me, + after all.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should I burden all the years of your life with the name of a + fallen man? I am dying in disgrace, Glory.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but in honour—great, great honour! These few bad days will be + forgotten soon, dearest—quite, quite forgotten. And in the future + time people will come to me and say—girls, dearest, brave, brave + girls, who are fighting the battle of life like men—they will come + and say: 'And did you know him? Did you really, really know him?' And I + will smile triumphantly and answer them 'Yes, for he loved me, and he is + mine and I am his forever and forever!'” + </p> + <p> + “It would be beautiful! We could not come together in this world; but to + be united for all eternity on the threshold of the next——” + </p> + <p> + “There! Say no more about it, for it's all arranged anyhow. The Father has + been persuaded to read the service, and the Prime Minister is to bring the + Archbishop's license, and it's to be to-day—this evening—and—and + I'm not the first woman who has settled everything herself!” + </p> + <p> + Then she began to laugh, and he laughed with her, and they laughed + together in spite of his weakness and pain. At the next moment she was + gone like a gleam of sunshine before a cloud, and Mrs. Callender had come + back to the bedside, tying up the strings of her old-fashioned bonnet. + </p> + <p> + “She's gold, laddie, that's what yon Glory is—just gold!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, tried in the fire and tested,” he replied, and then the back of his + head began to throb fiercely. + </p> + <p> + Glory had fled out of the room to cry, and Mrs. Callender joined her on + the landing. “I maun awa', lassie. I'd like fine to stop wi' ye, but I + can't. It minds me of the time my Alec left me, and that's forty lang + years the day, but he seems to have been with me ever syne.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Where's Glory?” + </p> + <p> + “She's coming, Father,” said Aggie, and at the sound of her name Glory + wiped her eyes and returned. + </p> + <p> + “And was it by my being lost that you came here to Westminster and found + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and myself as well.” + </p> + <p> + “And I thought my life had been wasted! When one thinks of God's designs + one feels humble—humble as the grass at one's feet——But + are you sure you will never regret?” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” + </p> + <p> + “Nor look back?” + </p> + <p> + She tossed her head again. “Call me Mrs. Lot at once, and have done with + it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's wonderful! What a glorious work is before you, Glory! You'll take it + up where I have left it, and carry it on and on. You are nobler than I am, + and stronger, far stronger, and purer and braver. And haven't I said all + along that what the world wants now is a great woman? I had the pith of it + all, though I saw the true light—but I was not worthy. I had sinned + and fallen, and didn't know my own heart, and was not fit to enter into + the promised land. It is something, nevertheless, that I see it a long way + off. And if I have been taken up to Sinai and heard the thunders of the + everlasting law——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, dear! Somebody is coming.” + </p> + <p> + It was the great surgeon whom the Prime Minister had sent for. He examined + the injuries carefully and gave certain instructions. “Mind you do this, + Sister,” and that, and the other. But Glory could see that he had no hope. + To relieve the pain in the head he wanted to administer morphia, but John + refused to have it. + </p> + <p> + “I am going into the presence of the King,” he said. “Let me have all my + wits about me.” + </p> + <p> + While the doctor was there the police sergeant returned with a magistrate + and the reporter. “Sorry to intrude, but hearing your patient was now + conscious——” and then he prepared to take John's deposition. + </p> + <p> + The reporter opened his notebook, the police magistrate stood at the foot + of the bed, the doctor at one side of it and Glory at the other side, + holding John's hand and quivering. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who struck you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment, and then came “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” + </p> + <p> + There was another pause, and then, “Don't ask me.” + </p> + <p> + “But your own evidence will be most valuable; and, indeed, down to the + present we have no other. Who is it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Why not give me the name of the scoundrel who took—— I mean + attempted to take your life?” + </p> + <p> + Then in a voice that was hardly audible, with his head thrown back and his + eyes on the ceiling, John said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not + what they do!” + </p> + <p> + It was useless to go further. Glory saw the four men to the door. + </p> + <p> + “You must keep him quiet,” said the doctor. “Not that anything can save + him, but he is a man of stubborn will.” + </p> + <p> + And the police magistrate said, “It may be all very fine to forgive your + enemies, but everybody has his duty to society, as well as to himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Glory, “the world has no room for greater hearts than its + own.” + </p> + <p> + The police magistrate looked at her in bewilderment. “Just so,” he said, + and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Where is she now, my girl?” + </p> + <p> + “She's 'ere, Father.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Glory, coming back to the room. “The doctor says you are not + to talk so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me look at you, Glory. Sit here—here—and if I should + seem to be suffering you must not mind that, because I am really very + happy.” + </p> + <p> + Just then an organ-man in the street began to play. Glory thought the + music might disturb John, and she was going to send Aggie to stop it. But + his face brightened and he said: “Sing for me, Glory. Let me hear your + voice.” + </p> + <p> + The organ was playing a “coon song,” and she sang the words of it. They + were simple words, childish words, almost babyish, but full of tenderness + and love. The little black boy could think of nothing but his Loo-loo. In + the night when he was sleeping he awoke and he was weeping, for he was + always, always dreaming of his Loo-loo, his Loo-loo! + </p> + <p> + When the song was finished they took hands and talked in whispers, though + they were alone in the room now, and nobody could hear them. His white + face was very bright, and her moist eyes were full of merriment. They grew + foolish in their tenderness and played with each other like little + children. There were recollections of their early life in the little + island home, memories of years concentrated into an hour—humorous + stories and touches of mimicry. “'O Lord, open thou our lips——Where + are you, Neilus?' 'Aw, here I am, your riverence, and my tongue shall shew + forth thy praise.'” + </p> + <p> + All at once John's face saddened and he said, “It's a pity, though!” + </p> + <p> + “A pity!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose the man who carries the flag always gets 'potted,' as they say. + But somebody must carry it.” + </p> + <p> + Glory felt her tears gathering. + </p> + <p> + “It's a pity that I have to go before you, Glory.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head to keep the tears from flowing, and then answered + gaily: “Oh, that's only as it should be. I want a little while to think it + all out, you know, and then—then I'll pass over to you, just as we + fall asleep at night and pass from day to day.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + And then he lay back with a sigh and said, “Well, I have had a happy end, + at all events.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. + </h2> + <p> + The day had been fine, with a rather fierce sun shining until late in the + afternoon, and long white clouds lying motionless in a deep blue sky, like + celestial sand-banks in a celestial sea. But the tender and tempered + splendour of the evening had come at length, with the sun gone over the + housetops to the northwest, and its solemn afterglow spreading round, like + the wings of angels sweeping down. London was unusually quiet after the + roar and turmoil of the day. The great city lay like a tired ocean. And + like an ocean it seemed to sleep, full of its living as well as its dead. + </p> + <p> + In a little square which stands on the fringe of the slums of Westminster, + and has a well-worn church in the middle, and tenement houses, + institutions, and workshops around its sides, a strange crowd had + gathered. It consisted for the greater part of persons who are generally + thought to be beyond the sympathies of life—the “priestesses of + society,” who are the lowest among women. But they stood there for hours + in silence, or walked about with dazed looks, glancing up at the window of + a room on the second story which glittered with the rays of the dying day. + Their friend and champion was near to his death in that room, and they + were waiting for the last news of him. + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister had kept his promise. Walking across from Downing + Street his face had been clouded, as if he was thinking out the riddles of + the inscrutable Power which stood to him for God. But when he came to the + square, and looked round at the people, his eyes brightened and he went on + with resignation and even content. The women made way for him with + whispered explanations of who he was, and he walked through them to the + room upstairs. + </p> + <p> + The room was nearly full already, for the Father Superior had come, + bringing lay brother Andrew along with him, and Aggie was sitting in a + corner, and Mrs. Pincher was moving about, and there was also a stranger + present. And though the little place was so mean and poor, it was full of + soft radiance from the sky, and people walked about in it with a glow upon + their faces. + </p> + <p> + Glory was by the bedside, standing erect and saying nothing. Her eyes were + glistening with unshed tears, and sometimes her mouth was twitching. John + Storm was conscious and very quiet. Holding Glory's hand as if he could + not part with it, he was looking around with the expression of the soldier + who has done the fearful, perhaps the foolish and foolhardy thing and + scaled the walls of the enemy. He is lying with the enemy's shot in his + breast now, and with death in his eyes, but he is smiling proudly for all + that, because he knows that the army is coming on. The Superior had + brought from the Brotherhood the picture of the head of Christ in its + crown of thorns to hang on the wall at the end of the bed, and the light + from the window made flickering gleams on the glass, and they were + reflected on to his face. + </p> + <p> + Hardly anybody spoke. As soon as the Prime Minister arrived he took a + paper from his pocket and gave it to the stranger, who glanced at it and + bowed. Then they all gathered about the bed, and the Superior opened a + book which he had carried in his hands, and in solemn accents began to + read: + </p> + <p> + “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together in the sight of God——” + </p> + <p> + Brother Andrew, who was kneeling at the foot of the bed, whined like a + dog, and some women on the landing, who were peering in at the open door, + whispered among themselves: “It's the Holy Communion! Hush!” + </p> + <p> + John's power did not fail him. He made his responses in a clear voice, + although his last strength was thrilling along the thread of life. And + Glory, when her turn came, was brave, too. There was just a touch of the + old hoarseness in her glorious voice, a slight quivering of the lids of + her glistening eyes, and then she went on to the end without faltering. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I, GLORY</i>— + </p> + <p> + “I, GLORY— + </p> + <p> + “—<i>take thee, JOHN</i>— + </p> + <p> + “—take thee, JOHN— + </p> + <p> + “—<i>to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward</i>— + </p> + <p> + “....to have and to hold from this day forward— + </p> + <p> + “—<i>for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in + health</i>— + </p> + <p> + “....in sickness and in health— + </p> + <p> + “—<i>to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part</i>— + </p> + <p> + “....till death us do part—— + </p> + <p> + “....AMEN!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <i>AUTHOR'S NOTE</i>. + </p> + <p> + <i>It will be seen that in writing this book I have sometimes used the + diaries, letters, memoirs, sermons, and speeches of recognisable persons, + living and dead. Also, it will be seen that I have frequently employed + fact for the purposes of fiction. In doing so, I think I am true to the + principles of art, and I know I am following the precedent of great + writers. But being conscious of the grievous: danger of giving personal + offence, I would wish to say that I have not intended to paint anybody's + portrait, or to describe the life of any known Society or to indicate the + management of any particular Institution. To do any of these things would + be to wrong the theory of fiction as I understand it, which is not to + offer mock history or a substitute for fact, but to present a thought in + the form of a story, with as much realism as the requirements of idealism + will permit. In presenting the thought which is the motive of “The + Christian” my desire has been to depict, however imperfectly, the types of + mind and character, of creed and culture, of social effort and religious + purpose which I think I see in the life of England and America at the + close of the nineteenth century. For such a task my own observation and + reflection could not be enough, and so I am conscious that in many + passages of this book I have often been merely as the mould through which + the metal has passed from the fires kept burning round about.</i> + </p> + <p> + <i>HALL CAINE</i>. + </p> + <p> + <i>Greeba Castle, Isle of Man, 1897</i>. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Christian, by Hall Caine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTIAN *** + +***** This file should be named 8407-h.htm or 8407-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/0/8407/ + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, Thomas +Berger, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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