the captives-第105节

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　do　you　no　harm　even　though　the　army　doesn't　exist。〃

〃I　tell　you　that　the　Soul　exists；　that　God　exists；　and　that　one　day　God　and　the　Soul　will　meet。　You　say　that　hasn't　been　proved；　and　until　it　is　proved　you　will　spend　your　time　over　other　things　that　you　know　to　be　true。　Try　it　at　least；　give　it　a　chance。　Why　not？　You　give　other　things　a　chance；　marriage；　doctors；　trades；　amusements。　Why　not　the　Soul？　Don't　listen　to　any　one　else's　definition　of　religion。　Don't　believe　in　it。　Make　your　own。　Find　out　for　yourself。　My　children；　I　am　an　old　man；　I　am　shortly　to　die。　If　I　have　scolded　forgive　me。　Let　me　leave　with　you　my　blessing；　and　my　earnest　prayer　that　you　will　not　pass　by　God　on　the　other　side。　The　day　will　come　when　you　cannot　pass　Him　by。　Meet　Him　first　of　your　own　accord　and　then　when　that　other　day　comes　He　will　know　you　as　a　friend　。　。　。〃

The　old　man's　voice　faltered；　failed；　stopped。　He　himself　seemed　to　be　deeply　affected。　Was　it　acting？　Maggie　could　not　tell。　At　any　rate　he　was　old　and　ill　and　very　shortly　to　die　。　。　。

The　woman　next　her　was　crying　rubbing　the　knuckles　of　her　shabby　old　gloves　in　her　eyes；　the　bugles　on　her　bonnet　shaking　like　live　things。

She　snuffled　through　her　nose　to　Maggie　〃BeautifulbeautifulI　'aven't　'eard　such　preaching　since　I　don't　know　when。〃

Thurston　again　rose。

〃A　solo　will　now　be　sung；〃　he　said。　〃After　the　singing　of　the　solo　there　will　be　a　prayer　offered；　then　a　procession；　headed　by　the　choir；　will　be　formed　to　march；　with　lanterns；　through　the　town；　as　a　witness　to　the　glory　of　God。　It　is　hoped　that　those　of　the　congregation　who　have　received　comfort　and　help　during　this　service　will　join　in　the　procession。　There　will　be　a　collection　for　the　expenses　of　the　Mission　at　the　door。〃

Maggie　watching　him　wondered。　Of　what　was　he　thinking？　Was　there　any　truth　in　him？　Had　he；　perhaps；　behind　the　sham　display　and　advertisement　that　he　had　been　building　felt　something　stirring？　Was　he　conscious；　against　his　own　will；　of　his　falsehood？　Had　he；　while　building　only　his　own　success；　made　a　discovery？　She　looked　at　him。　The　dramatic　mask　hid　him　from　her。　She　could　not；　tell　what　he　was。

The　soprano；　who　had　sung　a　verse　of　the　hymn　earlier　in　the　evening；　now　undertook　〃Hear　my　Prayer。〃　Very　beautifully　she　sang　it。

〃Hear　my　prayer；　Oh；　God；　incline　Thine　ear；　Thyself　from　my　distresses　do　not　hide　。　。　。〃

The　voice　rose；　soaring　through　the　building　to　meet　the　silver　stars　and　the　naked　cherubs　on　the　ceiling。　〃The　enemy　shouteth　。　。　。　The　enemy　shouteth　。　。　。〃

Skeaton　sat　enraptured。　Women　let　the　tears　stream　down　their　faces；　men　blew　their　noses。

Once　again　the　voice　arose。

〃Hear　my　prayer；　Oh；　God；　incline　Thine　ear　。　。　。〃

It　was　Maggie's　voice；　Maggie's　cry。　From　the　very　heart　of　the　charlatanism　she　cried　out；　appealing　to　a　God　who　might　exist　or　no；　she　could　not　tell；　but　who　seemed　now　to　be　leading　her　by　the　hand。　She　saw　Aunt　Anne　at　St。　Dreot's　whispering　〃The　Lord　is　my　Shepherd。　He　shall　lead　me　。　。　。〃

In　a　dream　she　shared　in　the　rest　of　the　ceremony。　In　a　dream　she　passed　with　the　others　out　of　the　building。　The　sea　air　blew　about　her；　down　the　promenade　she　could　see　the　people；　she　could　see　the　silver　stars　in　the　sky；　the　faint　orange　light　of　the　lanterns；　the　dim　stretch　of　the　sand；　and　then　the　grey　sea。　She　heard　the　splash　and　withdrawal　of　the　tide；　the　murmur　of　many　voices；　the　singing　of　the　distant　hymn；　the　blare　of　the　trumpet。

Strange　and　mysterious；　the　wind　blowing　through　it　all　like　a　promise　of　beauty　and　splendour　to　come　。　。　。

She　turned　in　the　starlit　dark；　separated　herself　from　the　crowd；　and　hurried　home。

In　the　hall　on　the　table　under　the　lamp　she　saw　a　letter。　She　saw　that　it　was　addressed　to　her　and　that　the　writing　was　Amy　Warlock's。　Before　she　picked　it　up　she　stood　there　listening。　The　house　was　very　still。　Grace　and　Paul　had　probably　begun　supper。　She　picked　up　the　letter　and　went　up　to　her　bedroom。

As　though　she　were　scanning　something　that　she　had　already　seen；　she　read：

I　made　you　a　promise　and　I　will　now　fulfil　it。

My　brother；　Martin；　arrived　in　London　three　days　ago。　He　is　staying　at　No。　13A　Lynton　Street；　King's　Cross。

I　have　seen　him　but　he　has　told　me　that　he　does　not　wish　to　see　me　again。　He　is　very　ill；　his　heart　is　bad　and　his　lungs　are　affected。　He　has　also　spent　all　his　money。　I　mentioned　your　name　but　he　did　not　seem　to　be　at　all　interested。　I　think　it　fair　to　tell　you　this　lest　you　should　have　a　fruitless　journey。　I　have　now　kept　my　promise　to　you；　unwisely　perhaps。　AMY　WARLOCK。

Maggie　sat　down　on　the　bed　and　considered。　There　was　a　train　at　10。30　reaching　London　about　midnight。　She　could　just　catch　it　if　she　were　quick。　She　found　a　pencil　and　a　piece　of　paper　and　wrote：

DEAR　PAULI　have　to　go　to　London　suddenly　on　very　urgent　business。　I　will　write　to　you　from　there。　Good…bye。　MAGGIE。

She　propped　this　up　against　the　looking…glass。　She　put　a　few　things；　including　the　box　with　Martin's　letters　and　the　ring　into　a　little　bag；　put　on　her　hat　and　coat　and　went　downstairs。　She　waited　for　a　moment　in　the　hall　but　there　was　no　sound　anywhere。　She　went　out　down　the　dark　drive。

As　she　passed　along　the　lonely　road　she　heard　the　gate；　screaming　faintly；　behind　her。




PART　IV

THE　JOURNEY　HOME　AGAIN


CHAPTER　I

THE　DARK　ROOM


It　was　after　midnight　when　Maggie　was　turned　out　on　to　the　long　grim　platform　of　the　London　station。　On　that　other　London　arrival　of　hers　the　terminus　had　been　a　boiling　cauldron　of　roar　and　rattle。　Now　everything　was　dead　and　asleep。　No　trains　moved；　they　slept；　ancient　monsters；　chained　down　with　dirt　and　fog。　Two　or　three　porters　crept　slothfully　as　though　hypnotised。　The　face　of　the　great　clock；　golden　in　the　dusk；　dominated；　like　a　heathen　god；　the　scene。　Maggie　asked　a　porter　the　way　to　the　Station　Hotel。　He　showed　her；　she　climbed　stairs；　pushed　back　swing　doors；　trod　oil…clothed　passages；　and　arrived　at　a　tired　young　woman　who　told　her　that　she　could　have　a　room。

Arrived　there；　herself　somnambulistic；　she　flung　off　her　clothes；　crept　into　bed；　and　was　instantly　asleep。

Next　morning　she　kept　to　her　room；　she　went　down　the　long　dusty　stairs　before　one　o'clock　because　she　was　hungry；　and　she　discovered　the　restaurant　and　had　a　meal　there；　but　all　the　time　she　was　expecting　Martin　to　appear。　Every　step　seemed　to　be　his；　every　voice　to　have　an　echo　of　his　tones。　Then　in　the　dusky　afternoon　she　decided　that　she　would　be　cowardly　no　longer。　She　started　off　on　her　search　for　No。　13A　Lynton　Street；　King's　Cross。

She　searched　through　a　strange　blue　opaque　light　which　always　afterwards　she　recollected　as　accompanying　her　with　mystery；　as　though　it　followed　her　about　deliberately　veiling　her　from　the　rest　of　the　world。　She　felt　different　from　them　all；　she　found　an　omnibus　that　was　going　to　King's　Cross；　but　when　she　was　inside　it　and　looked　at　the　people　around　her　she　felt　of　them　all　that　they　had　no　reality　beside　the　intensity　of　her　own　search。　She；　hot　like　a　fiery　coal；　existed　in　a　land　of　filmy　ghosts。　She　repeated　to　herself　over　and　over；　〃No。　13A　Lynton　Street；　King's　Cross。〃

She　got　out　opposite　the　huge　station　and　looked　about　her。　She　saw　a　policeman　and　went　across　to　him。

〃Can　you　tell　me　where　Lynton　Street　is；　please？〃　she　asked　him。

He　smiled。　〃Yes；　miss。　Down　on　your　right；　then　first　to　your　right　again。〃

She　thanked　him　and　wanted　for　a　silly　moment　to　remain　with　him。　She　wanted　to　stand　there　where　she　was；　on　the　island；　she　couldn't　go　back；　she　was　afraid　to　go　forward。　Then　the　moment　left　her　and　she　moved　on。　When　she　saw　Lynton　Street　written　up　her　heart　gave　a　strange　little　whirr　and　then　tightened　within　herself；　but　she　marched　on　and　found　13A。　A　dirty　house；　pots　with　ferns　in　the　two　grimy　windows；　and　the　walls　streaky　with　white　stains　against　the　grey。　The　door　was　ajar　and；　pushing　it　a　little；　she　saw　a　servant…　girl　on　her　knees　scrubbing　the　floor。　At　the　noise　of　her　step　the　girl　looked　up。

〃Is　Mr。　Warlock　here？〃　Maggie　asked；　but　the　words　were　choked　in　her　throat。

〃Wot　d'ye　sye？〃　the　girl　asked。

Maggie　repeated　her　question。

〃Yes'e's　upstairs。　Always　is。　Fust　floor；　second　door　on　yer　left。〃

Maggie　went　up。　She　found　the　door。　She　knocked。　There　was　no　answer。　She　pushed　the　door；　peered　through　and　looked　in。　She　saw　a　room　with　a　dirty　grimy　window；　a　broken　faded　red　sofa；　a　deal　table。　No　one　there。

She　entered　and　stood　listening。　A　door　beyond　her　opened　and　a　man　came　in。　She　knew　at　once　that　it　was　Martin。　Her　thoughts　followed　one　another　in　strange　flurried　inconsequence。　Yes；　it　was　Martin。　He　was　fatter　than　he　had　beenfat　and　ill。　Very　ill。　His　face　was　pale；　his　hair；　thinner　than　before；　unbrushed。　He　was　wearing　an　old　dirty　blue　suit　with　a　coat　that　buttoned　over　the　waistcoat　like　a　seaman's　jacket。　Yes；　he　was　ill　and　fat　and　unkempt；　but　it　was　Martin。　At　that　reiterated　assurance　in　the　depths　of　her　soul　she　seemed　to　sink　into　a　marvellous　certain　tranquillityso　certain　that　she　shed；　as　it　were　with　a　gesture；　all　the　unhappiness　and　doubt　and　desolation　with　which　the　last　years　had　burdened　her。

She　had　〃touched〃