diff options
Diffstat (limited to '460-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 460-h/460-h.htm | 2703 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 460-h/images/d177.gif | bin | 0 -> 89138 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 460-h/images/d179.gif | bin | 0 -> 150694 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 460-h/images/d181.gif | bin | 0 -> 152031 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 460-h/images/d183.gif | bin | 0 -> 136673 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 460-h/images/d185.gif | bin | 0 -> 133642 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 460-h/images/d187.gif | bin | 0 -> 150155 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 460-h/images/d189.gif | bin | 0 -> 142759 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 460-h/images/d191.gif | bin | 0 -> 161470 bytes |
9 files changed, 2703 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/460-h/460-h.htm b/460-h/460-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8182cb5 --- /dev/null +++ b/460-h/460-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2703 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Dawn of a To-morrow, by Frances Hodgson Burnett</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:#ff0000} + pre {font-size: 8pt;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Dawn of a To-morrow, by Frances Hodgson +Burnett, Illustrated by F. C. Yohn</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Dawn of a To-morrow</p> +<p>Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett</p> +<p>Release Date: March, 1996 [eBook #460]<br /> + Most recently updated: February 5, 2005</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DAWN OF A TO-MORROW***</p> +<div><br /></div> +<h4>E-text prepared by Charles Keller<br /> + with OmniPage Professional OCR software donated by Caere Corporation<br /> + <br /> + HTML version prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Melissa Er-Raqabi,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + https://www.pgdp.net</h4> +<div><br /></div> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="d177" id="d177"></a> +<img src="images/d177.gif" +alt="Something made him turn and go with her." +title="Something made him turn and go with her." /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>Something made him turn and go with her.</b></p> + +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<h1>THE DAWN OF</h1> +<h1>A TO-MORROW</h1> + +<h3><i>By</i></h3> + +<h2>FRANCES HODGSON +BURNETT</h2> + + +<div><br /></div> +<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED</p> + +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> +<h6>Charles Scribner's Sons<br /> +New York</h6> + +<div><br /></div> +<p class="center">1906</p> +<div><br /></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>From drawings in color by F. C. Yohn</i></p> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<div style="margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 15%;"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> + +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#d177">Something made him turn and go with her</a> (Frontispiece)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#d179">Antony Dart examined it critically</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#d181">The girl held out her hand cautiously—the piece of gold lying upon its palm</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#d183">"God!" he cried. "Will I come?"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#d185">"I'm alive! I'm alive!" she cried out</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#d187">"Speak, Lord, thy servant 'eareth"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#d189"><i>"There—is—no—death."</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#d191">"And a few hours ago you were on the point of—"</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DAWN_OF_A_TO_MORROW" id="THE_DAWN_OF_A_TO_MORROW" /><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1" />THE DAWN OF A TO-MORROW</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>I</h2> + + +<p>There are always two ways of looking at a thing, frequently there are six +or seven; but two ways of looking at a London fog are quite enough. When +it is thick and yellow in the streets and stings a man's throat and lungs +as he breathes it, an awakening in the early morning is either an +unearthly and grewsome, or a mysteriously enclosing, secluding, and +comfortable thing. If one awakens in a healthy body, and with a clear +brain rested by normal sleep <a name="Page_2" id="Page_2" />and retaining memories of a normally +agreeable yesterday, one may lie watching the housemaid building the fire; +and after she has swept the hearth and put things in order, lie watching +the flames of the blazing and crackling wood catch the coals and set them +blazing also, and dancing merrily and filling corners with a glow; and in +so lying and realizing that leaping light and warmth and a soft bed are +good things, one may turn over on one's back, stretching arms and legs +luxuriously, drawing deep breaths and smiling at a knowledge of the fog +outside which makes half-past eight o'clock on a December morning as dark +as twelve o'clock on a December night. Under such conditions the soft, +thick, yellow gloom has its <a name="Page_3" id="Page_3" />picturesque and even humorous aspect. One +feels enclosed by it at once fantastically and cosily, and is inclined to +revel in imaginings of the picture outside, its Rembrandt lights and +orange yellows, the halos about the street-lamps, the illumination of +shop-windows, the flare of torches stuck up over coster barrows and +coffee-stands, the shadows on the faces of the men and women selling and +buying beside them. Refreshed by sleep and comfort and surrounded by +light, warmth, and good cheer, it is easy to face the day, to confront +going out into the fog and feeling a sort of pleasure in its mysteries. +This is one way of looking at it, but only one.</p> + +<p>The other way is marked by enormous differences.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4" />A man—he had given his name to the people of the house as Antony +Dart—awakened in a third-story bedroom in a lodging-house in a poor +street in London, and as his consciousness returned to him, its slow and +reluctant movings confronted the second point of view—marked by enormous +differences. He had not slept two consecutive hours through the night, and +when he had slept he had been tormented by dreary dreams, which were more +full of misery because of their elusive vagueness, which kept his tortured +brain on a wearying strain of effort to reach some definite understanding +of them. Yet when he awakened the consciousness of being again alive was +an awful thing. If the dreams could have faded into <a name="Page_5" id="Page_5" />blankness and all +have passed with the passing of the night, how he could have thanked +whatever gods there be! Only not to awake—only not to awake! But he had +awakened.</p> + +<p>The clock struck nine as he did so, consequently he knew the hour. The +lodging-house slavey had aroused him by coming to light the fire. She had +set her candle on the hearth and done her work as stealthily as possible, +but he had been disturbed, though he had made a desperate effort to +struggle back into sleep. That was no use—no use. He was awake and he was +in the midst of it all again. Without the sense of luxurious comfort he +opened his eyes and turned upon his back, throwing out his arms <a name="Page_6" id="Page_6" />flatly, +so that he lay as in the form of a cross, in heavy weariness and anguish. +For months he had awakened each morning after such a night and had so lain +like a crucified thing.</p> + +<p>As he watched the painful flickering of the damp and smoking wood and coal +he remembered this and thought that there had been a lifetime of such +awakenings, not knowing that the morbidness of a fagged brain blotted out +the memory of more normal days and told him fantastic lies which were but +a hundredth part truth. He could see only the hundredth part truth, and it +assumed proportions so huge that he could see nothing else. In such a +state the human brain is an infernal machine and its workings can only be +conquered if the mortal thing which <a name="Page_7" id="Page_7" />lives with it—day and night, night +and day—has learned to separate its controllable from its seemingly +uncontrollable atoms, and can silence its clamor on its way to madness.</p> + +<p>Antony Dart had not learned this thing and the clamor had had its hideous +way with him. Physicians would have given a name to his mental and +physical condition. He had heard these names often—applied to men the +strain of whose lives had been like the strain of his own, and had left +them as it had left him—jaded, joyless, breaking things. Some of them had +been broken and had died or were dragging out bruised and tormented days +in their own homes or in mad-houses. He always shuddered when he heard +their names, <a name="Page_8" id="Page_8" />and rebelled with sick fear against the mere mention of +them. They had worked as he had worked, they had been stricken with the +delirium of accumulation—accumulation—as he had been. They had been +caught in the rush and swirl of the great maelstrom, and had been borne +round and round in it, until having grasped every coveted thing tossing +upon its circling waters, they themselves had been flung upon the shore +with both hands full, the rocks about them strewn with rich possessions, +while they lay prostrate and gazed at all life had brought with dull, +hopeless, anguished eyes. He knew—if the worst came to the worst—what +would be said of him, because he had heard it said of others. "He <a name="Page_9" id="Page_9" />worked +too hard—he worked too hard." He was sick of hearing it. What was wrong +with the world—what was wrong with man, as Man—if work could break him +like this? If one believed in Deity, the living creature It breathed into +being must be a perfect thing—not one to be wearied, sickened, tortured +by the life Its breathing had created. A mere man would disdain to build a +thing so poor and incomplete. A mere human engineer who constructed an +engine whose workings were perpetually at fault—which went wrong when +called upon to do the labor it was made for—who would not scoff at it and +cast it aside as a piece of worthless bungling?</p> + +<p>"Something is wrong," he mut<a name="Page_10" id="Page_10" />tered, lying flat upon his cross and staring +at the yellow haze which had crept through crannies in window-sashes into +the room. "Someone is wrong. Is it I—or You?"</p> + +<p>His thin lips drew themselves back against his teeth in a mirthless smile +which was like a grin.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "I am pretty far gone. I am beginning to talk to myself +about God. Bryan did it just before he was taken to Dr. Hewletts' place +and cut his throat."</p> + +<p>He had not led a specially evil life; he had not broken laws, but the +subject of Deity was not one which his scheme of existence had included. +When it had haunted him of late he had felt it an untoward and morbid +sign. The thing <a name="Page_11" id="Page_11" />had drawn him—drawn him; he had complained against it, +he had argued, sometimes he knew—shuddering—that he had raved. Something +had seemed to stand aside and watch his being and his thinking. Something +which filled the universe had seemed to wait, and to have waited through +all the eternal ages, to see what he—one man—would do. At times a great +appalled wonder had swept over him at his realization that he had never +known or thought of it before. It had been there always—through all the +ages that had passed. And sometimes—once or twice—the thought had in +some unspeakable, untranslatable way brought him a moment's calm.</p> + +<p>But at other times he had said to <a name="Page_12" id="Page_12" />himself—with a shivering soul cowering +within him—that this was only part of it all and was a beginning, +perhaps, of religious monomania.</p> + +<p>During the last week he had known what he was going to do—he had made up +his mind. This abject horror through which others had let themselves be +dragged to madness or death he would not endure. The end should come +quickly, and no one should be smitten aghast by seeing or knowing how it +came. In the crowded shabbier streets of London there were lodging-houses +where one, by taking precautions, could end his life in such a manner as +would blot him out of any world where such a man as himself had been +known. A pistol, properly managed, <a name="Page_13" id="Page_13" />would obliterate resemblance to any +human thing. Months ago through chance talk he had heard how it could be +done—and done quickly. He could leave a misleading letter. He had planned +what it should be—the story it should tell of a disheartened mediocre +venturer of his poor all returning bankrupt and humiliated from Australia, +ending existence in such pennilessness that the parish must give him a +pauper's grave. What did it matter where a man lay, so that he +slept—slept—slept? Surely with one's brains scattered one would sleep +soundly anywhere.</p> + +<p>He had come to the house the night before, dressed shabbily with the +pitiable respectability of a <a name="Page_14" id="Page_14" />defeated man. He had entered droopingly with +bent shoulders and hopeless hang of head. In his own sphere he was a man +who held himself well. He had let fall a few dispirited sentences when he +had engaged his back room from the woman of the house, and she had +recognized him as one of the luckless. In fact, she had hesitated a moment +before his unreliable look until he had taken out money from his pocket +and paid his rent for a week in advance. She would have that at least for +her trouble, he had said to himself. He should not occupy the room after +to-morrow. In his own home some days would pass before his household began +to make inquiries. He had told his servants <a name="Page_15" id="Page_15" />that he was going over to +Paris for a change. He would be safe and deep in his pauper's grave a week +before they asked each other why they did not hear from him. All was in +order. One of the mocking agonies was that living was done for. He had +ceased to live. Work, pleasure, sun, moon, and stars had lost their +meaning. He stood and looked at the most radiant loveliness of land and +sky and sea and felt nothing. Success brought greater wealth each day +without stirring a pulse of pleasure, even in triumph. There was nothing +left but the awful days and awful nights to which he knew physicians could +give their scientific name, but had no healing for. He had gone far +enough. He would go <a name="Page_16" id="Page_16" />no farther. To-morrow it would have been over long +hours. And there would have been no public declaiming over the humiliating +pitifulness of his end. And what did it matter?</p> + +<p>How thick the fog was outside—thick enough for a man to lose himself in +it. The yellow mist which had crept in under the doors and through the +crevices of the window-sashes gave a ghostly look to the room—a ghastly, +abnormal look, he said to himself. The fire was smouldering instead of +blazing. But what did it matter? He was going out. He had not bought the +pistol last night—like a fool. Somehow his brain had been so tired and +crowded that he had forgotten.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_17" id="Page_17" />Forgotten." He mentally repeated the word as he got out of bed. By this +time to-morrow he should have forgotten everything. <i>This time to-morrow</i>. +His mind repeated that also, as he began to dress himself. Where should he +be? Should he be anywhere? Suppose he awakened again—to something as bad +as this? How did a man get out of his body? After the crash and shock what +happened? Did one find oneself standing beside the Thing and looking down +at it? It would not be a good thing to stand and look down on—even for +that which had deserted it. But having torn oneself loose from it and its +devilish aches and pains, one would not care—one would see how little it +all <a name="Page_18" id="Page_18" />mattered. Anything else must be better than this—the thing for which +there was a scientific name but no healing. He had taken all the drugs, he +had obeyed all the medical orders, and here he was after that last hell of +a night—dressing himself in a back bedroom of a cheap lodging-house to go +out and buy a pistol in this damned fog.</p> + +<p>He laughed at the last phrase of his thought, the laugh which was a +mirthless grin.</p> + +<p>"I am thinking of it as if I was afraid of taking cold," he said. "And +to-morrow—!"</p> + +<p>There would be no To-morrow. To-morrows were at an end. No more nights—no +more days—no more morrows.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19" />He finished dressing, putting on his discriminatingly chosen +shabby-genteel clothes with a care for the effect he intended them to +produce. The collar and cuffs of his shirt were frayed and yellow, and he +fastened his collar with a pin and tied his worn necktie carelessly. His +overcoat was beginning to wear a greenish shade and look threadbare, so +was his hat. When his toilet was complete he looked at himself in the +cracked and hazy glass, bending forward to scrutinize his unshaven face +under the shadow of the dingy hat.</p> + +<p>"It is all right," he muttered. "It is not far to the pawnshop where I saw +it."</p> + +<p>The stillness of the room as he turned to go out was uncanny. As <a name="Page_20" id="Page_20" />it was a +back room, there was no street below from which could arise sounds of +passing vehicles, and the thickness of the fog muffled such sound as might +have floated from the front. He stopped half-way to the door, not knowing +why, and listened. To what—for what? The silence seemed to spread through +all the house—out into the streets—through all London—through all the +world, and he to stand in the midst of it, a man on the way to Death—with +no To-morrow.</p> + +<p>What did it mean? It seemed to mean something. The world withdrawn—life +withdrawn—sound withdrawn—breath withdrawn. He stood and waited. Perhaps +this was one of the symptoms of the <a name="Page_21" id="Page_21" />morbid thing for which there was that +name. If so he had better get away quickly and have it over, lest he be +found wandering about not knowing—not knowing. But now he knew—the +Silence. He waited—waited and tried to hear, as if something was calling +him—calling without sound. It returned to him—the thought of That which +had waited through all the ages to see what he—one man—would do. He had +never exactly pitied himself before—he did not know that he pitied +himself now, but he was a man going to his death, and a light, cold sweat +broke out on him and it seemed as if it was not he who did it, but some +other—he flung out his arms and cried aloud words <a name="Page_22" id="Page_22" />he had not known he +was going to speak.</p> + +<p>"Lord! Lord! What shall I do to be saved?"</p> + +<p>But the Silence gave no answer. It was the Silence still.</p> + +<p>And after standing a few moments panting, his arms fell and his head +dropped, and turning the handle of the door, he went out to buy the +pistol.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II" /><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23" />II</h2> + + +<p>As he went down the narrow staircase, covered with its dingy and +threadbare carpet, he found the house so full of dirty yellow haze that he +realized that the fog must be of the extraordinary ones which are +remembered in after-years as abnormal specimens of their kind. He recalled +that there had been one of the sort three years before, and that traffic +and business had been almost entirely stopped by it, that accidents had +happened in the streets, and that people having lost their way had +wandered about turning corners until they found themselves far from their +intended destinations and obliged to <a name="Page_24" id="Page_24" />take refuge in hotels or the houses +of hospitable strangers. Curious incidents had occurred and odd stories +were told by those who had felt themselves obliged by circumstances to go +out into the baffling gloom. He guessed that something of a like nature +had fallen upon the town again. The gas-light on the landings and in the +melancholy hall burned feebly—so feebly that one got but a vague view of +the rickety hat-stand and the shabby overcoats and head-gear hanging upon +it. It was well for him that he had but a corner or so to turn before he +reached the pawnshop in whose window he had seen the pistol he intended to +buy.</p> + +<p>When he opened the street-door <a name="Page_25" id="Page_25" />he saw that the fog was, upon the whole, +perhaps even heavier and more obscuring, if possible, than the one so well +remembered. He could not see anything three feet before him, he could not +see with distinctness anything two feet ahead. The sensation of stepping +forward was uncertain and mysterious enough to be almost appalling. A man +not sufficiently cautious might have fallen into any open hole in his +path. Antony Dart kept as closely as possible to the sides of the houses. +It would have been easy to walk off the pavement into the middle of the +street but for the edges of the curb and the step downward from its level. +Traffic had almost absolutely ceased, though in the more important streets +link-<a name="Page_26" id="Page_26" />boys were making efforts to guide men or four-wheelers slowly along. +The blind feeling of the thing was rather awful. Though but few +pedestrians were out, Dart found himself once or twice brushing against or +coming into forcible contact with men feeling their way about like +himself.</p> + +<p>"One turn to the right," he repeated mentally, "two to the left, and the +place is at the corner of the other side of the street"</p> + +<p>He managed to reach it at last, but it had been a slow, and therefore, +long journey. All the gas-jets the little shop owned were lighted, but +even under their flare the articles in the window—the one or two once +cheaply gaudy dresses and <a name="Page_27" id="Page_27" />shawls and men's garments—hung in the haze +like the dreary, dangling ghosts of things recently executed. Among +watches and forlorn pieces of old-fashioned jewelry and odds and ends, the +pistol lay against the folds of a dirty gauze shawl. There it was. It +would have been annoying if someone else had been beforehand and had +bought it.</p> + +<p>Inside the shop more dangling spectres hung and the place was almost dark. +It was a shabby pawnshop, and the man lounging behind the counter was a +shabby man with an unshaven, unamiable face.</p> + +<p>"I want to look at that pistol in the right-hand corner of your window," +Antony Dart said.</p> + +<p>The pawnbroker uttered a sound <a name="Page_28" id="Page_28" />something between a half-laugh and a +grunt. He took the weapon from the window.</p> + +<p>Antony Dart examined it critically. He must make quite sure of it. He made +no further remark. He felt he had done with speech.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="d179" id="d179"></a> +<img src="images/d179.gif" +alt="Antony Dart examined it critically" +title="Antony Dart examined it critically" /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>Antony Dart examined it critically</b></p> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<p>Being told the price asked for the purchase, he drew out his purse and +took the money from it. After making the payment he noted that he still +possessed a five-pound note and some sovereigns. There passed through his +mind a wonder as to who would spend it. The most decent thing, perhaps, +would be to give it away. If it was in his room—to-morrow—the parish +would not bury him, and it would be safer that the parish should.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29" />He was thinking of this as he left the shop and began to cross the +street. Because his mind was wandering he was less watchful. Suddenly a +rubber-tired hansom, moving without sound, appeared immediately in his +path—the horse's head loomed up above his own. He made the inevitable +involuntary whirl aside to move out of the way, the hansom passed, and +turning again, he went on. His movement had been too swift to allow of his +realizing the direction in which his turn had been made. He was wholly +unaware that when he crossed the street he crossed backward instead of +forward. He turned a corner literally feeling his way, went on, turned +another, and after walking the length of the street, <a name="Page_30" id="Page_30" />suddenly understood +that he was in a strange place and had lost his bearings.</p> + +<p>This was exactly what had happened to people on the day of the memorable +fog of three years before. He had heard them talking of such experiences, +and of the curious and baffling sensations they gave rise to in the brain. +Now he understood them. He could not be far from his lodgings, but he felt +like a man who was blind, and who had been turned out of the path he knew. +He had not the resource of the people whose stories he had heard. He would +not stop and address anyone. There could be no certainty as to whom he +might find himself speaking to. He would speak to no one.<a name="Page_31" id="Page_31" /> He would wander +about until he came upon some clew. Even if he came upon none, the fog +would surely lift a little and become a trifle less dense in course of +time. He drew up the collar of his overcoat, pulled his hat down over his +eyes and went on—his hand on the thing he had thrust into a pocket.</p> + +<p>He did not find his clew as he had hoped, and instead of lifting the fog +grew heavier. He found himself at last no longer striving for any end, but +rambling along mechanically, feeling like a man in a dream—a nightmare. +Once he recognized a weird suggestion in the mystery about him. To-morrow +might one be wandering about aimlessly in some such haze. He hoped not.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32" />His lodgings were not far from the Embankment, and he knew at last that +he was wandering along it, and had reached one of the bridges. His mood +led him to turn in upon it, and when he reached an embrasure to stop near +it and lean upon the parapet looking down. He could not see the water, the +fog was too dense, but he could hear some faint splashing against stones. +He had taken no food and was rather faint. What a strange thing it was to +feel faint for want of food—to stand alone, cut off from every other +human being—everything done for. No wonder that sometimes, particularly +on such days as these, there were plunges made from the parapet—no +wonder. He leaned farther <a name="Page_33" id="Page_33" />over and strained his eyes to see some gleam of +water through the yellowness. But it was not to be done. He was thinking +the inevitable thing, of course; but such a plunge would not do for him. +The other thing would destroy all traces.</p> + +<p>As he drew back he heard something fall with the solid tinkling sound of +coin on the flag pavement. When he had been in the pawn-broker's shop he +had taken the gold from his purse and thrust it carelessly into his +waistcoat pocket, thinking that it would be easy to reach when he chose to +give it to one beggar or another, if he should see some wretch who would +be the better for it. Some movement he had made in bending had caused a +sovereign to <a name="Page_34" id="Page_34" />slip out and it had fallen upon the stones.</p> + +<p>He did not intend to pick it up, but in the moment in which he stood +looking down at it he heard close to him a shuffling movement. What he had +thought a bundle of rags or rubbish covered with sacking—some tramp's +deserted or forgotten belongings—was stirring. It was alive, and as he +bent to look at it the sacking divided itself, and a small head, covered +with a shock of brilliant red hair, thrust itself out, a shrewd, small +face turning to look up at him slyly with deep-set black eyes.</p> + +<p>It was a human girl creature about twelve years old.</p> + +<p>"Are yer goin' to do it?" she <a name="Page_35" id="Page_35" />said in a hoarse, street-strained voice. +"Yer would be a fool if yer did—with as much as that on yer."</p> + +<p>She pointed with a reddened, chapped, and dirty hand at the sovereign.</p> + +<p>"Pick it up," he said. "You may have it."</p> + +<p>Her wild shuffle forward was an actual leap. The hand made a snatching +clutch at the coin. She was evidently afraid that he was either not in +earnest or would repent. The next second she was on her feet and ready for +flight.</p> + +<p>"Stop," he said; "I've got more to give away."</p> + +<p>She hesitated—not believing him, yet feeling it madness to lose a chance.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_36" id="Page_36" /><i>More!"</i> she gasped. Then she drew nearer to him, and a singular change +came upon her face. It was a change which made her look oddly human.</p> + +<p>"Gawd, mister!" she said. "Yer can give away a quid like it was +nothin'—an' yer've got more—an' yer goin' to do <i>that</i>—jes cos yer 'ad +a bit too much lars night an' there's a fog this mornin'! You take it +straight from me—don't yer do it. I give yer that tip for the suvrink."</p> + +<p>She was, for her years, so ugly and so ancient, and hardened in voice and +skin and manner that she fascinated him. Not that a man who has no +To-morrow in view is likely to be particularly conscious of mental +processes. He was done for, but he stood <a name="Page_37" id="Page_37" />and stared at her. What part of +the Power moving the scheme of the universe stood near and thrust him on +in the path designed he did not know then—perhaps never did. He was still +holding on to the thing in his pocket, but he spoke to her again.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked glumly.</p> + +<p>She sidled nearer, her sharp eyes on his face.</p> + +<p>"I bin watchin' yer," she said. "I sat down and pulled the sack over me +'ead to breathe inside it an' get a bit warm. An' I see yer come. I knowed +wot yer was after, I did. I watched yer through a 'ole in me sack. I +wasn't goin' to call a copper. I shouldn't want ter be stopped meself if I +made up me mind. I <a name="Page_38" id="Page_38" />seed a gal dragged out las' week an' it'd a broke yer +'art to see 'er tear 'er clothes an' scream. Wot business 'ad they +preventin' 'er goin' off quiet? I wouldn't 'a' stopped yer—but w'en the +quid fell, that made it different."</p> + +<p>"I—" he said, feeling the foolishness of the statement, but making it, +nevertheless, "I am ill."</p> + +<p>"Course yer ill. It's yer 'ead. Come along er me an' get a cup er cawfee +at a stand, an' buck up. If yer've give me that quid +straight—wish-yer-may-die—I'll go with yer an' get a cup myself. I ain't +'ad a bite since yesterday—an' 't wa'n't nothin' but a slice o' polony +sossidge I found on a dust-'eap. Come on, mister."</p> + +<p>She pulled his coat with her <a name="Page_39" id="Page_39" />cracked hand. He glanced down at it +mechanically, and saw that some of the fissures had bled and the roughened +surface was smeared with the blood. They stood together in the small space +in which the fog enclosed them—he and she—the man with no To-morrow and +the girl thing who seemed as old as himself, with her sharp, small nose +and chin, her sharp eyes and voice—and yet—perhaps the fogs enclosing +did it—something drew them together in an uncanny way. Something made him +forget the lost clew to the lodging-house—something made him turn and go +with her—a thing led in the dark.</p> + +<p>"How can you find your way?" he said. "I lost mine."</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_40" id="Page_40" />There ain't no fog can lose me," she answered, shuffling along by his +side; "'sides, it's goin' to lift. Look at that man comin' to'ards us."</p> + +<p>It was true that they could see through the orange-colored mist the +approaching figure of a man who was at a yard's distance from them. Yes, +it was lifting slightly—at least enough to allow of one's making a guess +at the direction in which one moved.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Apple Blossom Court," she answered. "The cawfee-stand's in a street near +it—and there's a shop where I can buy things."</p> + +<p>"Apple Blossom Court!" he ejaculated. "What a name!"</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_41" id="Page_41" />There ain't no apple-blossoms there," chuckling; "nor no smell of 'em. +'T ain't as nice as its nime is—Apple Blossom Court ain't."</p> + +<p>"What do you want to buy? A pair of shoes?" The shoes her naked feet were +thrust into were leprous-looking things through which nearly all her toes +protruded. But she chuckled when he spoke.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm goin' to buy a di'mond tirarer to go to the opery in," she said, +dragging her old sack closer round her neck. "I ain't ad a noo un since I +went to the last Drorin'-room."</p> + +<p>It was impudent street chaff, but there was cheerful spirit in it, and +cheerful spirit has some occult effect upon morbidity. Antony Dart <a name="Page_42" id="Page_42" />did +not smile, but he felt a faint stirring of curiosity, which was, after +all, not a bad thing for a man who had not felt an interest for a year.</p> + +<p>"What is it you are going to buy?"</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to fill me stummick fust," with a grin of elation. "Three thick +slices o' bread an' drippin' an' a mug o' cawfee. An' then I'm goin' to +get sumethin' 'earty to carry to Polly. She ain't no good, pore thing!"</p> + +<p>"Who is she?"</p> + +<p>Stopping a moment to drag up the heel of her dreadful shoe, she answered +him with an unprejudiced directness which might have been appalling if he +had been in the mood to be appalled.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_43" id="Page_43" />Ain't eighteen, an' tryin' to earn 'er livin' on the street. She ain't +made for it. Little country thing, allus frightened to death an' ready to +bust out cryin'. Gents ain't goin' to stand that. A lot of 'em wants +cheerin' up as much as she does. Gent as was in liquor last night knocked +'er down an' give 'er a black eye. 'Twan't ill feelin', but he lost his +temper, an' give 'er a knock casual. She can't go out to-night, an' she's +been 'uddled up all day cry in' for 'er mother."</p> + +<p>"Where is her mother?"</p> + +<p>"In the country—on a farm. Polly took a place in a lodgin'-'ouse an' got +in trouble. The biby was dead, an' when she come out o' Queen Charlotte's +she was took in by <a name="Page_44" id="Page_44" />a woman an' kep'. She kicked 'er out in a week 'cos of +her cryin'. The life didn't suit 'er. I found 'er cryin' fit to split 'er +chist one night—corner o' Apple Blossom Court—an' I took care of 'er."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Me chambers," grinning; "top loft of a 'ouse in the court. If anyone else +'d 'ave it I should be turned out. It's an 'ole, I can tell yer—but it's +better than sleepin' under the bridges."</p> + +<p>"Take me to see it," said Antony Dart, "I want to see the girl."</p> + +<p>The words spoke themselves. Why should he care to see either cockloft or +girl? He did not. He wanted to go back to his lodgings with that which he +had come out to buy.<a name="Page_45" id="Page_45" /> Yet he said this thing. His companion looked up at +him with an expression actually relieved.</p> + +<p>"Would yer tike up with 'er?" with eager sharpness, as if confronting a +simple business proposition. "She's pretty an' clean, an' she won't drink +a drop o' nothin'. If she was treated kind she'd be cheerfler. She's got a +round fice an' light 'air an' eyes. 'Er 'air's curly. P'raps yer'd like +'er."</p> + +<p>"Take me to see her."</p> + +<p>"She'd look better to-morrow," cautiously, "when the swellin's gone down +round 'er eye."</p> + +<p>Dart started—and it was because he had for the last five minutes +forgotten something.</p> + +<p>"I shall not be here to-morrow,"<a name="Page_46" id="Page_46" /> he said. His grasp upon the thing in his +pocket had loosened, and he tightened it.</p> + +<p>"I have some more money in my purse," he said deliberately. "I meant to +give it away before going. I want to give it to people who need it very +much."</p> + +<p>She gave him one of the sly, squinting glances.</p> + +<p>"Deservin' cases?" She put it to him in brazen mockery.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," he answered slowly and heavily. "I don't care a damn."</p> + +<p>Her face changed exactly as he had seen it change on the bridge when she +had drawn nearer to him. Its ugly hardness suddenly looked human. And that +she could look human was fantastic.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_47" id="Page_47" />'Ow much 'ave yer?" she asked. "'Ow much is it?"</p> + +<p>"About ten pounds."</p> + +<p>She stopped and stared at him with open mouth.</p> + +<p>"Gawd!" she broke out; "ten pounds 'd send Apple Blossom Court to 'eving. +Leastways, it'd take some of it out o' 'ell."</p> + +<p>"Take me to it," he said roughly. "Take me."</p> + +<p>She began to walk quickly, breathing fast. The fog was lighter, and it was +no longer a blinding thing.</p> + +<p>A question occurred to Dart.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you ask me to give the money to you?" he said bluntly.</p> + +<p>"Dunno," she answered as bluntly. But after taking a few steps farther she +spoke again.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_48" id="Page_48" />I'm cheerfler than most of 'em," she elaborated. "If yer born cheerfle +yer can stand things. When I gets a job nussin' women's bibles they don't +cry when I 'andles 'em. I gets many a bite an' a copper 'cos o' that. +Folks likes yer. I shall get on better than Polly when I'm old enough to +go on the street."</p> + +<p>The organ of whose lagging, sick pumpings Antony Dart had scarcely been +aware for months gave a sudden leap in his breast. His blood actually +hastened its pace, and ran through his veins instead of crawling—a +distinct physical effect of an actual mental condition. It was produced +upon him by the mere matter-of-fact ordinariness of her tone. He had never +been a senti<a name="Page_49" id="Page_49" />mental man, and had long ceased to be a feeling one, but at +that moment something emotional and normal happened to him.</p> + +<p>"You expect to live in that way?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Ain't nothin' else fer me to do. Wisht I was better lookin'. But I've got +a lot of 'air," clawing her mop, "an' it's red. One day," chuckling, "a +gent ses to me—he ses: 'Oh! yer'll do. Yer an ugly little devil—but ye +<i>are</i> a devil.'"</p> + +<p>She was leading him through a narrow, filthy back street, and she stopped, +grinning up in his face.</p> + +<p>"I say, mister," she wheedled, "let's stop at the cawfee-stand. It's up +this way."</p> + +<p>When he acceded and followed <a name="Page_50" id="Page_50" />her, she quickly turned a corner. They were +in another lane thick with fog, which flared with the flame of torches +stuck in costers' barrows which stood here and there—barrows with fried +fish upon them, barrows with second-hand-looking vegetables and others +piled with more than second-hand-looking garments. Trade was not driving, +but near one or two of them dirty, ill-used looking women, a man or so, +and a few children stood. At a corner which led into a black hole of a +court, a coffee-stand was stationed, in charge of a burly ruffian in +corduroys.</p> + +<p>"Come along," said the girl. "There it is. It ain't strong, but it's 'ot."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="d181" id="d181"></a> +<img src="images/d181.gif" +alt="The girl held out her hand cautiously—the piece of gold lying upon its palm." +title="The girl held out her hand cautiously—the piece of gold lying upon its palm." /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>The girl held out her hand cautiously—the piece of gold lying upon its palm.</b></p> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<p><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51" />She sidled up to the stand, drawing Dart with her, as if glad of his +protection.</p> + +<p>"'Ello, Barney," she said. "'Ere's a gent warnts a mug o' yer best. I've +'ad a bit o' luck, an' I wants one meself."</p> + +<p>"Garn," growled Barney. "You an' yer luck! Gent may want a mug, but y'd +show yer money fust."</p> + +<p>"Strewth! I've got it. Y' ain't got the chinge fer wot I 'ave in me 'and +'ere. 'As 'e, mister?"'</p> + +<p>"Show it," taunted the man, and then turning to Dart. "Yer wants a mug o' +cawfee?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The girl held out her hand cautiously—the piece of gold lying upon its +palm.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_52" id="Page_52" />Look 'ere," she said.</p> + +<p>There were two or three men slouching about the stand. Suddenly a hand +darted from between two of them who stood nearest, the sovereign was +snatched, a screamed oath from the girl rent the thick air, and a forlorn +enough scarecrow of a young fellow sprang away.</p> + +<p>The blood leaped in Antony Dart's veins again and he sprang after him in a +wholly normal passion of indignation. A thousand years ago—as it seemed +to him—he had been a good runner. This man was not one, and want of food +had weakened him. Dart went after him with strides which astonished +himself. Up the street, into an alley and out of it, a dozen yards more +and into a court, <a name="Page_53" id="Page_53" />and the man wheeled with a hoarse, baffled curse. The +place had no outlet.</p> + +<p>"Hell!" was all the creature said.</p> + +<p>Dart took him by his greasy collar. Even the brief rush had left him +feeling like a living thing—which was a new sensation.</p> + +<p>"Give it up," he ordered.</p> + +<p>The thief looked at him with a half-laugh and obeyed, as if he felt the +uselessness of a struggle. He was not more than twenty-five years old, and +his eyes were cavernous with want. He had the face of a man who might have +belonged to a better class. When he had uttered the exclamation invoking +the infernal regions he had not dropped the aspirate.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_54" id="Page_54" />I'm as hungry as she is," he raved.</p> + +<p>"Hungry enough to rob a child beggar?" said Dart.</p> + +<p>"Hungry enough to rob a starving old woman—or a baby," with a defiant +snort. "Wolf hungry—tiger hungry—hungry enough to cut throats."</p> + +<p>He whirled himself loose and leaned his body against the wall, turning his +face toward it. Suddenly he made a choking sound and began to sob.</p> + +<p>"Hell!" he choked. "I'll give it up! I'll give it up!"</p> + +<p>What a figure—what a figure, as he swung against the blackened wall, his +scarecrow clothes hanging on him, their once decent material making <a name="Page_55" id="Page_55" />their +pinning together of buttonless places, their looseness and rents showing +dirty linen, more abject than any other squalor could have made them. +Antony Dart's blood, still running warm and well, was doing its normal +work among the brain-cells which had stirred so evilly through the night. +When he had seized the fellow by the collar, his hand had left his pocket. +He thrust it into another pocket and drew out some silver.</p> + +<p>"Go and get yourself some food," he said. "As much as you can eat. Then go +and wait for me at the place they call Apple Blossom Court. I don't know +where it is, but I am going there. I want to hear how you came to this. +Will you come?"</p> + +<p>The thief lurched away from the <a name="Page_56" id="Page_56" />wall and toward him. He stared up into +his eyes through the fog. The tears had smeared his cheekbones.</p> + +<p>"God!" he said. "Will I come? Look and see if I'll come," Dart looked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you'll come," he answered, and he gave him the money. "I'm going +back to the coffee-stand."</p> + +<p>The thief stood staring after him as he went out of the court. Dart was +speaking to himself.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why I did it," he said. "But the thing had to be done."</p> + +<p>In the street he turned into he came upon the robbed girl, running, +panting, and crying. She uttered a shout and flung herself upon him, +clutching his coat.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="d183" id="d183"></a> +<img src="images/d183.gif" +alt=""God!" he cried. "Will I come?"" +title=""God!" he cried. "Will I come?"" /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>"God!" he cried. "Will I come?"</b></p> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<p>"<a name="Page_57" id="Page_57" />Gawd!" she sobbed hysterically, "I thort I'd lost yer! I thort I'd lost +all of it, I did! Strewth! I'm glad I've found yer—" and she stopped, +choking with her sobs and sniffs, rubbing her face in her sack.</p> + +<p>"Here is your sovereign," Dart said, handing it to her.</p> + +<p>She dropped the corner of the sack and looked up with a queer laugh.</p> + +<p>"Did yer find a copper? Did yer give him in charge?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Dart. "He was worse off than you. He was starving. I took +this from him; but I gave him some money and told him to meet us at Apple +Blossom Court."</p> + +<p>She stopped short and drew back a pace to stare up at him.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_58" id="Page_58" />Well," she gave forth, "y' <i>are</i> a queer one!"</p> + +<p>And yet in the amazement on her face he perceived a remote dawning of an +understanding of the meaning of the thing he had done.</p> + +<p>He had spoken like a man in a dream. He felt like a man in a dream, being +led in the thick mist from place to place. He was led back to the +coffee-stand, where now Barney, the proprietor, was pouring out coffee for +a hoarse-voiced coster girl with a draggled feather in her hat, who +greeted their arrival hilariously.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Glad!" she cried out "Got yer suvrink back?"</p> + +<p>Glad—it seemed to be the creature's wild name—nodded, but held <a name="Page_59" id="Page_59" />close to +her companion's side, clutching his coat.</p> + +<p>"Let's go in there an' change it," she said, nodding toward a small pork +and ham shop near by. "An' then yer can take care of it for me."</p> + +<p>"What did she call you?" Antony Dart asked her as they went.</p> + +<p>"Glad. Don't know as I ever 'ad a nime o' me own, but a little cove as +went once to the pantermine told me about a young lady as was Fairy Queen +an' 'er name was Gladys Beverly St. John, so I called meself that. No one +never said it all at onct—they don't never say nothin' but Glad. I'm glad +enough this mornin'," chuckling again, "'avin' the luck to come up with +you, mister. Never had luck like it 'afore."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60" />They went into the pork and ham shop and changed the sovereign. There was +cooked food in the windows—roast pork and boiled ham and corned beef. She +bought slices of pork and beef, and of suet-pudding with a few currants +sprinkled through it.</p> + +<p>"Will yer 'elp me to carry it?" she inquired. "I'll 'ave to get a few +pen'worth o' coal an' wood an' a screw o' tea an' sugar. My wig, wot a +feed me an' Polly'll 'ave!"</p> + +<p>As they returned to the coffee-stand she broke more than once into a hop +of glee. Barney had changed his mind concerning her. A solid sovereign +which must be changed and a companion whose shabby gentility was absolute +grandeur when <a name="Page_61" id="Page_61" />compared with his present surroundings made a difference.</p> + +<p>She received her mug of coffee and thick slice of bread and dripping with +a grin, and swallowed the hot sweet liquid down in ecstatic gulps.</p> + +<p>"Ain't I in luck?" she said, handing her mug back when it was empty. "Gi' +me another, Barney."</p> + +<p>Antony Dart drank coffee also and ate bread and dripping. The coffee was +hot and the bread and dripping, dashed with salt, quite eatable. He had +needed food and felt the better for it.</p> + +<p>"Come on, mister," said Glad, when their meal was ended. "I want to get +back to Polly, an' there's coal and bread and things to buy."</p> + +<p>She hurried him along, breaking <a name="Page_62" id="Page_62" />her pace with hops at intervals. She +darted into dirty shops and brought out things screwed up in paper. She +went last into a cellar and returned carrying a small sack of coal over +her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Bought sack an' all," she said elatedly. "A sack's a good thing to 'ave."</p> + +<p>"Let me carry it for you," said Antony Dart.</p> + +<p>"Spile yer coat," with her sidelong upward glance.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," he answered. "I don't care a damn."</p> + +<p>The final expletive was totally unnecessary, but it meant a thing he did +not say. Whatsoever was thrusting him this way and that, speaking through +his speech, leading him to <a name="Page_63" id="Page_63" />do things he had not dreamed of doing, should +have its will with him. He had been fastened to the skirts of this beggar +imp and he would go on to the end and do what was to be done this day. It +was part of the dream.</p> + +<p>The sack of coal was over his shoulder when they turned into Apple Blossom +Court. It would have been a black hole on a sunny day, and now it was like +Hades, lit grimly by a gas-jet or two, small and flickering, with the +orange haze about them. Filthy flagging, murky doorways, broken steps and +broken windows stuffed with rags, and the smell of the sewers let loose +had Apple Blossom Court.</p> + +<p>Glad, with the wealth of the pork and ham shop and other riches in <a name="Page_64" id="Page_64" />her +arms, entered a repellent doorway in a spirit of great good cheer and Dart +followed her. Past a room where a drunken woman lay sleeping with her head +on a table, a child pulling at her dress and crying, up a stairway with +broken balusters and breaking steps, through a landing, upstairs again, +and up still farther until they reached the top. Glad stopped before a +door and shook the handle, crying out:</p> + +<p>"'S only me, Polly. You can open it." She added to Dart in an undertone: +"She 'as to keep it locked. No knowin' who'd want to get in. Polly," +shaking the door-handle again, "Polly 's only me."</p> + +<p>The door opened slowly. On the other side of it stood a girl with a +<a name="Page_65" id="Page_65" />dimpled round face which was quite pale; under one of her childishly +vacant blue eyes was a discoloration, and her curly fair hair was tucked +up on the top of her head in a knot. As she took in the fact of Antony +Dart's presence her chin began to quiver.</p> + +<p>"I ain't fit to—to see no one," she stammered pitifully. "Why did you, +Glad—why did you?"</p> + +<p>"Ain't no 'arm in '<i>im</i>," said Glad. "'E's one o' the friendly ones. 'E +give me a suvrink. Look wot I've got," hopping about as she showed her +parcels.</p> + +<p>"You need not be afraid of me," Antony Dart said. He paused a second, +staring at her, and suddenly added, "Poor little wretch!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66" />Her look was so scared and uncertain a thing that he walked away from her +and threw the sack of coal on the hearth. A small grate with broken bars +hung loosely in the fireplace, a battered tin kettle tilted drunkenly near +it. A mattress, from the holes in whose ticking straw bulged, lay on the +floor in a corner, with some old sacks thrown over it. Glad had, without +doubt, borrowed her shoulder covering from the collection. The garret was +as cold as the grave, and almost as dark; the fog hung in it thickly. +There were crevices enough through which it could penetrate.</p> + +<p>Antony Dart knelt down on the hearth and drew matches from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_67" id="Page_67" />We ought to have brought some paper," he said.</p> + +<p>Glad ran forward.</p> + +<p>"Wot a gent ye are!" she cried. "Y' ain't never goin' to light it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>She ran back to the rickety table and collected the scraps of paper which +had held her purchases. They were small, but useful.</p> + +<p>"That wot was round the sausage an' the puddin's greasy," she exulted.</p> + +<p>Polly hung over the table and trembled at the sight of meat and bread. +Plainly, she did not understand what was happening. The greased paper set +light to the wood, and the wood to the coal. All three flared and blazed +with a sound of <a name="Page_68" id="Page_68" />cheerful crackling. The blaze threw out its glow as +finely as if it had been set alight to warm a better place. The wonder of +a fire is like the wonder of a soul. This one changed the murk and gloom +to brightness, and the deadly damp and cold to warmth. It drew the girl +Polly from the table despite her fears. She turned involuntarily, made two +steps toward it, and stood gazing while its light played on her face. Glad +whirled and ran to the hearth.</p> + +<p>"Ye've put on a lot," she cried; "but, oh, my Gawd, don't it warm yer! +Come on, Polly—come on."</p> + +<p>She dragged out a wooden stool, an empty soap-box, and bundled the sacks +into a heap to be sat upon. She swept the things from the table and <a name="Page_69" id="Page_69" />set +them in their paper wrappings on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Let's all sit down close to it—close," she said, "an' get warm an' eat, +an' eat."</p> + +<p>She was the leaven which leavened the lump of their humanity. What this +leaven is—who has found out? But she—little rat of the gutter—was +formed of it, and her mere pure animal joy in the temporary animal comfort +of the moment stirred and uplifted them from their depths.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III" /><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70" />III</h2> + + +<p>They drew near and sat upon the substitutes for seats in a circle—and the +fire threw up flame and made a glow in the fog hanging in the black hole +of a room.</p> + +<p>It was Glad who set the battered kettle on and when it boiled made tea. +The other two watched her, being under her spell. She handed out slices of +bread and sausage and pudding on bits of paper. Polly fed with tremulous +haste; Glad herself with rejoicing and exulting in flavors. Antony Dart +ate bread and meat as he had eaten the bread and dripping at the +stall—accepting his normal hunger as part of the dream.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71" />Suddenly Glad paused in the midst of a huge bite.</p> + +<p>"Mister," she said, "p'raps that cove's waitin' fer yer. Let's 'ave 'im +in. I'll go and fetch 'im."</p> + +<p>She was getting up, but Dart was on his feet first.</p> + +<p>"I must go," he said. "He is expecting me and—"</p> + +<p>"Aw," said Glad, "lemme go along o' yer, mister—jest to show there's no +ill feelin'."</p> + +<p>"Very well," he answered.</p> + +<p>It was she who led, and he who followed. At the door she stopped and +looked round with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Keep up the fire, Polly," she threw back. "Ain't it warm and cheerful? +It'll do the cove good to see it."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72" />She led the way down the black, unsafe stairway. She always led.</p> + +<p>Outside the fog had thickened again, but she went through it as if she +could see her way.</p> + +<p>At the entrance to the court the thief was standing, leaning against the +wall with fevered, unhopeful waiting in his eyes. He moved miserably when +he saw the girl, and she called out to reassure him.</p> + +<p>"I ain't up to no 'arm," she said; "I on'y come with the gent."</p> + +<p>Antony Dart spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"Did you get food?"</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I turned faint after you left me, and when I came to I was afraid I might +miss you," he answered. "I daren't lose my chance. I bought <a name="Page_73" id="Page_73" />some bread +and stuffed it in my pocket. I've been eating it while I've stood here."</p> + +<p>"Come back with us," said Dart. "We are in a place where we have some +food."</p> + +<p>He spoke mechanically, and was aware that he did so. He was a pawn pushed +about upon the board of this day's life.</p> + +<p>"Come on," said the girl. "Yer can get enough to last fer three days."</p> + +<p>She guided them back through the fog until they entered the murky doorway +again. Then she almost ran up the staircase to the room they had left.</p> + +<p>When the door opened the thief fell back a pace as before an unex<a name="Page_74" id="Page_74" />pected +thing. It was the flare of firelight which struck upon his eyes. He passed +his hand over them.</p> + +<p>"A fire!" he said. "I haven't seen one for a week. Coming out of the +blackness it gives a man a start."</p> + +<p>Improvident joy gleamed in Glad's eyes.</p> + +<p>"We'll be warm onct," she chuckled, "if we ain't never warm agaen."</p> + +<p>She drew her circle about the hearth again. The thief took the place next +to her and she handed out food to him—a big slice of meat, bread, a thick +slice of pudding.</p> + +<p>"Fill yerself up," she said. "Then ye'll feel like yer can talk."</p> + +<p>The man tried to eat his food with <a name="Page_75" id="Page_75" />decorum, some recollection of the +habits of better days restraining him, but starved nature was too much for +him. His hands shook, his eyes filled, his teeth tore. The rest of the +circle tried not to look at him. Glad and Polly occupied themselves with +their own food.</p> + +<p>Antony Dart gazed at the fire. Here he sat warming himself in a loft with +a beggar, a thief, and a helpless thing of the street. He had come out to +buy a pistol—its weight still hung in his overcoat pocket—and he had +reached this place of whose existence he had an hour ago not dreamed. Each +step which had led him had seemed a simple, inevitable thing, for which he +had apparently been responsible, but which he <a name="Page_76" id="Page_76" />knew—yes, somehow he +<i>knew</i>—he had of his own volition neither planned nor meant. Yet here he +sat—a part of the lives of the beggar, the thief, and the poor thing of +the street. What did it mean?</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he said to the thief, "how you came here."</p> + +<p>By this time the young fellow had fed himself and looked less like a wolf. +It was to be seen now that he had blue-gray eyes which were dreamy and +young.</p> + +<p>"I have always been inventing things," he said a little huskily. "I did it +when I was a child. I always seemed to see there might be a way of doing a +thing better—getting more power. When other boys were playing games I was +sitting in <a name="Page_77" id="Page_77" />corners trying to build models out of wire and string, and old +boxes and tin cans. I often thought I saw the way to things, but I was +always too poor to get what was needed to work them out. Twice I heard of +men making great names and fortunes because they had been able to finish +what I could have finished if I had had a few pounds. It used to drive me +mad and break my heart." His hands clenched themselves and his huskiness +grew thicker. "There was a man," catching his breath, "who leaped to the +top of the ladder and set the whole world talking and writing—and I had +done the thing <i>first</i>—I swear I had! It was all clear in my brain, and I +was half mad with joy over it, but I could <a name="Page_78" id="Page_78" />not afford to work it out. He +could, so to the end of time it will be <i>his</i>." He struck his fist upon +his knee.</p> + +<p>"Aw!" The deep little drawl was a groan from Glad.</p> + +<p>"I got a place in an office at last. I worked hard, and they began to +trust me. I—had a new idea. It was a big one. I needed money to work it +out. I—I remembered what had happened before. I felt like a poor fellow +running a race for his life. I <i>knew</i> I could pay back ten times—a +hundred times—what I took."</p> + +<p>"You took money?" said Dart.</p> + +<p>The thief's head dropped.</p> + +<p>"No. I was caught when I was taking it. I wasn't sharp enough.<a name="Page_79" id="Page_79" /> Someone +came in and saw me, and there was a crazy row. I was sent to prison. There +was no more trying after that. It's nearly two years since, and I've been +hanging about the streets and falling lower and lower. I've run miles +panting after cabs with luggage in them and not had strength to carry in +the boxes when they stopped. I've starved and slept out of doors. But the +thing I wanted to work out is in my mind all the time—like some machine +tearing round. It wants to be finished. It never will be. That's all."</p> + +<p>Glad was leaning forward staring at him, her roughened hands with the +smeared cracks on them clasped round her knees.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80" />Things '<i>as</i> to be finished," she said. "They finish theirselves."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" Dart turned on her.</p> + +<p>"Dunno '<i>ow</i> I know—but I do. When things begin they finish. It's like a +wheel rollin' down an 'ill." Her sharp eyes fixed themselves on Dart's. +"All of us'll finish somethin'—'cos we've begun. You will—Polly will—'e +will—I will." She stopped with a sudden sheepish chuckle and dropped her +forehead on her knees, giggling. "Dunno wot I'm talking about," she said, +"but it's true."</p> + +<p>Dart began to understand that it was. And he also saw that this ragged +thing who knew nothing whatever, looked out on the world <a name="Page_81" id="Page_81" />with the eyes of +a seer, though she was ignorant of the meaning of her own knowledge. It +was a weird thing. He turned to the girl Polly.</p> + +<p>"Tell me how you came here," he said.</p> + +<p>He spoke in a low voice and gently. He did not want to frighten her, but +he wanted to know how <i>she</i> had begun. When she lifted her childish eyes +to his, her chin began to shake. For some reason she did not question his +right to ask what he would. She answered him meekly, as her fingers +fumbled with the stuff of her dress.</p> + +<p>"I lived in the country with my mother," she said. "We was very happy +together. In the spring there was primroses and—and lambs. I—can't<a name="Page_82" id="Page_82" /> +abide to look at the sheep in the park these days. They remind me so. +There was a girl in the village got a place in town and came back and told +us all about it. It made me silly. I wanted to come here, too. I—I +came—" She put her arm over her face and began to sob.</p> + +<p>"She can't tell you," said Glad. "There was a swell in the 'ouse made love +to her. She used to carry up coals to 'is parlor an' 'e talked to 'er. 'E +'ad a wye with 'im—"</p> + +<p>Polly broke into a smothered wail.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I did love him so—I did!" she cried. "I'd have let him walk over me. +I'd have let him kill me."</p> + +<p>"'E nearly did it," said Glad.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_83" id="Page_83" />'E went away sudden an' she's never 'eard word of 'im since."</p> + +<p>From under Polly's face-hiding arm came broken words.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't tell my mother. I did not know how. I was too frightened and +ashamed. Now it's too late. I shall never see my mother again, and it +seems as if all the lambs and primroses in the world was dead. Oh, they're +dead—they're dead—and I wish I was, too!"</p> + +<p>Glad's eyes winked rapidly and she gave a hoarse little cough to clear her +throat. Her arms still clasping her knees, she hitched herself closer to +the girl and gave her a nudge with her elbow.</p> + +<p>"Buck up, Polly," she said, "we ain't none of us finished yet. Look <a name="Page_84" id="Page_84" />at us +now—sittin' by our own fire with bread and puddin' inside us—an' think +wot we was this mornin'. Who knows wot we'll 'ave this time to-morrer."</p> + +<p>Then she stopped and looked with a wide grin at Antony Dart.</p> + +<p>"'Ow did I come 'ere?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, "how did you come here?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno," she said; "I was 'ere first thing I remember. I lived with a +old woman in another 'ouse in the court. One mornin' when I woke up she +was dead. Sometimes I've begged an' sold matches. Sometimes I've took care +of women's children or 'elped 'em when they 'ad to lie up. I've seen a +lot—but I like to see a lot. 'Ope I'll see a lot more afore<a name="Page_85" id="Page_85" /> I'm done. +I'm used to bein' 'ungry an' cold, an' all that, but—but I allers like to +see what's comin' to-morrer. There's allers somethin' else to-morrer. +That's all about <i>me</i>," and she chuckled again.</p> + +<p>Dart picked up some fresh sticks and threw them on the fire. There was +some fine crackling and a new flame leaped up.</p> + +<p>"If you could do what you liked," he said, "what would you like to do?"</p> + +<p>Her chuckle became an outright laugh.</p> + +<p>"If I 'ad ten pounds?" she asked, evidently prepared to adjust herself in +imagination to any form of unlooked-for good luck.</p> + +<p>"If you had more?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86" />His tone made the thief lift his head to look at him.</p> + +<p>"If I 'ad a wand like the one Jem told me was in the pantermine?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered.</p> + +<p>She sat and stared at the fire a few moments, and then began to speak in a +low luxuriating voice.</p> + +<p>"I'd get a better room," she said, revelling. "There's one in the next +'ouse. I'd 'ave a few sticks o' furnisher in it—a bed an' a chair or two. +I'd get some warm petticuts an' a shawl an' a 'at—with a ostrich feather +in it. Polly an' me'd live together. We'd 'ave fire an' grub every day, +I'd get drunken Bet's biby put in an 'ome. I'd 'elp the women when they +'ad to lie up. I'd—I'd 'elp <i>'im</i> a bit,"<a name="Page_87" id="Page_87" /> with a jerk of her elbow +toward the thief. "If 'e was kept fed p'r'aps 'e could work out that thing +in 'is 'ead. I'd go round the court an' 'elp them with 'usbands that +knocks 'em about. I'd—I'd put a stop to the knockin' about," a queer +fixed look showing itself in her eyes. "If I 'ad money I could do it. 'Ow +much," with sudden prudence, "could a body 'ave—with one o' them wands?"</p> + +<p>"More than enough to do all you have spoken of," answered Dart.</p> + +<p>"It's a shime a body couldn't 'ave it. Apple Blossom Court 'd be a +different thing. It'd be the sime as Miss Montaubyn says it's goin' to +be." She laughed again, this time as if remembering something fantastic, +but not despicable.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_88" id="Page_88" />Who is Miss Montaubyn?"</p> + +<p>"She's a' old woman as lives next floor below. When she was young she was +pretty an' used to dance in the 'alls. Drunken Bet says she was one o' the +wust. When she got old it made 'er mad an' she got wusser. She was ready +to tear gals eyes out, an' when she'd get took for makin' a row she'd +fight like a tiger cat. About a year ago she tumbled downstairs when she'd +'ad too much an' she broke both 'er legs. You remember, Polly?"</p> + +<p>Polly hid her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, when they took her away to the hospital!" she shuddered. "Oh, when +they lifted her up to carry her!"</p> + +<p>"I thought Polly'd 'ave a fit when <a name="Page_89" id="Page_89" />she 'eard 'er screamin' an' swearin'. +My! it was langwich! But it was the 'orspitle did it."</p> + +<p>"Did what?"</p> + +<p>"Dunno," with an uncertain, even slightly awed laugh. "Dunno wot it +did—neither does nobody else, but somethin' 'appened. It was along of a +lidy as come in one day an' talked to 'er when she was lyin' there. My +eye," chuckling, "it was queer talk! But I liked it. P'raps it was lies, +but it was cheerfle lies that 'elps yer. What I ses is—if <i>things</i> ain't +cheerfle, <i>people's</i> got to be—to fight it out. The women in the 'ouse +larft fit to kill theirselves when she fust come 'ome limpin' an' talked +to 'em about what the lidy told 'er. But arter a bit they liked <a name="Page_90" id="Page_90" />to 'ear +'er—just along o' the cheerfleness. Said it was like a pantermine. +Drunken Bet says if she could get 'old 'f it an' believe it sime as Jinny +Montaubyn does it'd be as cheerin' as drink an' last longer."</p> + +<p>"Is it a kind of religion?" Dart asked, having a vague memory of rumors of +fantastic new theories and half-born beliefs which had seemed to him weird +visions floating through fagged brains wearied by old doubts and arguments +and failures. The world was tired—the whole earth was sad—centuries had +wrought only to the end of this twentieth century's despair. Was the +struggle waking even here—in this back water of the huge city's human +tide? he wondered with dull interest.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_91" id="Page_91" />Is it a kind of religion?" he said.</p> + +<p>"It's cheerfler." Glad thrust out her sharp chin uncertainly again. +"There's no 'ell fire in it. An' there ain't no blime laid on Godamighty," +(The word as she uttered it seemed to have no connection whatever with her +usual colloquial invocation of the Deity.) "When a dray run over little +Billy an' crushed 'im inter a rag, an' 'is mother was screamin' an' +draggin' 'er 'air down, the curick 'e ses, 'It's Gawd's will,' 'e ses—an' +'e ain't no bad sort neither, an' 'is fice was white an' wet with +sweat—'Gawd done it,' 'e ses. An' me, I'd nussed the child an' I clawed +me 'air sime as if I was 'is mother an' I screamed out, 'Then damn 'im!' +An' the curick 'e <a name="Page_92" id="Page_92" />dropped sittin' down on the curb-stone an' 'id 'is fice +in 'is 'ands."</p> + +<p>Dart hid his own face after the manner of the wretched curate.</p> + +<p>"No wonder," he groaned. His blood turned cold.</p> + +<p>"But," said Glad, "Miss Montaubyn's lidy she says Godamighty never done it +nor never intended it, an' if we kep' sayin' an' believin' 'e's close to +us an' not millyuns o' miles away, we'd be took care of whilst we was +alive an' not 'ave to wait till we was dead."</p> + +<p>She got up on her feet and threw up her arms with a sudden jerk and +involuntary gesture.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="d185" id="d185"></a> +<img src="images/d185.gif" +alt=""I'm alive! I'm alive!" she cried out." +title=""I'm alive! I'm alive!" she cried out." /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>"I'm alive! I'm alive!" she cried out.</b></p> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<p>"I'm alive! I'm alive!" she cried out, "I've got ter be took care of +<i>now</i>! That's why I like wot she <a name="Page_93" id="Page_93" />tells about it. So does the women. We +ain't no more reason ter be sure of wot the curick says than ter be sure +o' this. Dunno as I 've got ter choose either way, but if I 'ad, I'd +choose the cheerflest."</p> + +<p>Dart had sat staring at her—so had Polly—so had the thief. Dart rubbed +his forehead.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," he said.</p> + +<p>"'T ain't understanding! It's believin'. Bless yer, <i>she</i> doesn't +understand. I say, let's go an' talk to 'er a bit. She don't mind nothin', +an' she'll let us in. We can leave Polly an' 'im 'ere. They can make some +more tea an' drink it."</p> + +<p>It ended in their going out of the room together again and stumbling once +more down the stairway's <a name="Page_94" id="Page_94" />crookedness. At the bottom of the first short +flight they stopped in the darkness and Glad knocked at a door with a +summons manifestly expectant of cheerful welcome. She used the formula she +had used before.</p> + +<p>"'S on'y me, Miss Montaubyn," she cried out. "'S on'y Glad."</p> + +<p>The door opened in wide welcome, and confronting them as she held its +handle stood a small old woman with an astonishing face. It was +astonishing because while it was withered and wrinkled with marks of past +years which had once stamped their reckless unsavoriness upon its every +line, some strange redeeming thing had happened to it and its expression +was that of a creature to whom the opening of a door could <a name="Page_95" id="Page_95" />only mean the +entrance—the tumbling in as it were—of hopes realized. Its surface was +swept clean of even the vaguest anticipation of anything not to be +desired. Smiling as it did through the black doorway into the unrelieved +shadow of the passage, it struck Antony Dart at once that it actually +implied this—and that in this place—and indeed in any place—nothing +could have been more astonishing. What could, indeed?</p> + +<p>"Well, well," she said, "come in, Glad, bless yer."</p> + +<p>"I've brought a gent to 'ear yer talk a bit," Glad explained informally.</p> + +<p>The small old woman raised her twinkling old face to look at him.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_96" id="Page_96" />Ah!" she said, as if summing up what was before her. "'<i>E</i> thinks it's +worse than it is, doesn't 'e, now? Come in, sir, do."</p> + +<p>This time it struck Dart that her look seemed actually to anticipate the +evolving of some wonderful and desirable thing from himself. As if even +his gloom carried with it treasure as yet undisplayed. As she knew nothing +of the ten sovereigns, he wondered what, in God's name, she saw.</p> + +<p>The poverty of the little square room had an odd cheer in it. Much +scrubbing had removed from it the objections manifest in Glad's room +above. There was a small red fire in the grate, a strip of old, but gay +carpet before it, two chairs and a table were covered with a harlequin +<a name="Page_97" id="Page_97" />patchwork made of bright odds and ends of all sizes and shapes. The fog +in all its murky volume could not quite obscure the brightness of the +often rubbed window and its harlequin curtain drawn across upon a string.</p> + +<p>"Bless yer," said Miss Montaubyn, "sit down."</p> + +<p>Dart sat and thanked her. Glad dropped upon the floor and girdled her +knees comfortably while Miss Montaubyn took the second chair, which was +close to the table, and snuffed the candle which stood near a basket of +colored scraps such as, without doubt, had made the harlequin curtain.</p> + +<p>"Yer won't mind me goin' on with me bit o' work?" she chirped.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_98" id="Page_98" />Tell 'im wot it is," Glad suggested.</p> + +<p>"They come from a dressmaker as is in a small way," designating the scraps +by a gesture. "I clean up for 'er an' she lets me 'ave 'em. I make 'em up +into anythink I can—pin-cushions an' bags an' curtings an' balls. +Nobody'd think wot they run to sometimes. Now an' then I sell some of 'em. +Wot I can't sell I give away."</p> + +<p>"Drunken Bet's biby plays with 'er ball all day," said Glad.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Miss Montaubyn, drawing out a long needleful of thread, "Bet, +<i>she</i> thinks it worse than it is."</p> + +<p>"Could it be worse?" asked Dart. "Could anything be worse than everything +is?"</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_99" id="Page_99" />Lots," suggested Glad; "might 'ave broke your back, might 'ave a fever, +might be in jail for knifin' someone. 'E wants to 'ear you talk, Miss +Montaubyn; tell 'im all about yerself."</p> + +<p>"Me!" her expectant eyes on him. "'E wouldn't want to 'ear it. I shouldn't +want to 'ear it myself. Bein' on the 'alls when yer a pretty girl ain't an +'elpful life; an' bein' took up an' dropped down till yer dropped in the +gutter an' don't know 'ow to get out—it's wot yer mustn't let yer mind go +back to."</p> + +<p>"That's wot the lidy said," called out Glad. "Tell 'im about the lidy. She +doesn't even know who she was." The remark was tossed to Dart.</p> + +<p>"Never even 'eard 'er name," with <a name="Page_100" id="Page_100" />unabated cheer said Miss Montaubyn. +"She come an' she went an' me too low to do anything but lie an' look at +'er and listen. An' 'Which of us two is mad?' I ses to myself. But I lay +thinkin' and thinkin'—an' it was so cheerfle I couldn't get it out of me +'ead—nor never 'ave since."</p> + +<p>"What did she say?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't remember the words—it was the way they took away things a +body's afraid of. It was about things never 'avin' really been like wot we +thought they was. Godamighty now, there ain't a bit of 'arm in 'im."</p> + +<p>"What?" he said with a start.</p> + +<p>"'E never done the accidents and the trouble. It was us as went out of the +light into the dark. If we'd <a name="Page_101" id="Page_101" />kep' in the light all the time, an' thought +about it, an' talked about it, we'd never 'ad nothin' else. 'T ain't +punishment neither. 'T ain't nothin' but the dark—an' the dark ain't +nothin' but the light bein' away. 'Keep in the light,' she ses, 'never +think of nothin' else, an' then you'll begin an' see things. Everybody's +been afraid. There ain't no need. You believe <i>that</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"Believe?" said Dart heavily.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' ses I to 'er, 'that's where the trouble comes in—believin'.' And +she answers as cool as could be: 'Yes, it is,' she ses, 'we've all been +thinkin' we've been believin', an' none of us 'as. If we 'ad what'd there +be to be afraid of? If we <a name="Page_102" id="Page_102" />believed a king was givin' us our livin' an' +takin' care of us who'd be afraid of not 'avin' enough to eat?'"</p> + +<p>"Who?" groaned Dart. He sat hanging his head and staring at the floor. +This was another phase of the dream.</p> + +<p>"'Where is 'E?' I ses. ''Im as breaks old women's legs an' crushes babies +under wheels—so as they'll be resigned?' An' all of a sudden she calls +out quite loud: 'Nowhere,' she ses. 'An' never was. But 'Im as stretched +forth the 'eavens an' laid the foundations of the earth, 'Im as is the +Life an' Love of the world, 'E's '<i>ere</i>! Stretch out yer 'and,' she ses, +'an' call out, "Speak, Lord, thy servant 'eareth," an' ye'll 'ear an' +<i>see</i>. <a name="Page_103" id="Page_103" />An' never you stop sayin' it—let yer 'eart beat it an' yer +breath breathe it—an' yer'll find yer goin' about laughin' soft to +yerself an' lovin' every-thin' as if it was yer own child at breast. An' +<i>no</i> 'arm can come to yer. Try it when yer go 'ome.'"</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="d187" id="d187"></a> +<img src="images/d187.gif" +alt=""Speak, Lord, thy servant 'eareth."" +title=""Speak, Lord, thy servant 'eareth."" /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>"Speak, Lord, thy servant 'eareth."</b></p> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<p>"Did you?" asked Dart.</p> + +<p>Glad answered for her with a tremulous—yes it was a <i>tremulous</i>—giggle, +a weirdly moved little sound.</p> + +<p>"When she wakes in the mornin' she ses to 'erself, 'Good things is goin' +to come to-day—cheerfle things,' When there's a knock at the door she +ses, 'Somethin' friendly's comin' in.' An' when Drunken Bet's makin' a row +an' ragin' an' tearin' an' threatenin' to 'ave 'er eyes out of 'er fice, +she ses, 'Lor, Bet, yer don't <a name="Page_104" id="Page_104" />mean a word of it—yer a friend to every +woman in the 'ouse.' When she don't know which way to turn, she stands +still an' ses, 'Speak, Lord, thy servant 'eareth,' an' then she does +wotever next comes into 'er mind—an' she says it's allus the right +answer. Sometimes," sheepishly, "I've tried it myself—p'raps it's true. I +did it this mornin' when I sat down an' pulled me sack over me 'ead on the +bridge. Polly'd been cryin' so loud all night I'd got a bit low in me +stummick an'—" She stopped suddenly and turned on Dart as if light had +flashed across her mind. "Dunno nothin' about it," she stammered, "but I +<i>said</i> it—just like she does—an' <i>you</i> come!"</p> + +<p>Plainly she had uttered whatever <a name="Page_105" id="Page_105" />words she had used in the form of a sort +of incantation, and here was the result in the living body of this man +sitting before her. She stared hard at him, repeating her words: "<i>You</i> +come. Yes, you did."</p> + +<p>"It was the answer," said Miss Montaubyn, with entire simplicity as she +bit off her thread, "that's wot it was."</p> + +<p>Antony Dart lifted his heavy head.</p> + +<p>"You believe it," he said.</p> + +<p>"I'm livin' on believin' it," she said confidingly. "I ain't got nothin' +else. An' answers keeps comin' and comin'."</p> + +<p>"What answers?"</p> + +<p>"Bits o' work—an' things as 'elps. Glad there, she's one."</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_106" id="Page_106" />Aw," said Glad, "I ain't nothin'. I likes to 'ear yer tell about it. She +ses," to Dart again, a little slowly, as she watched his face with +curiously questioning eyes—"she ses 'E's in the room—same as 'E's +everywhere—in this 'ere room. Sometimes she talks out loud to 'Im."</p> + +<p>"What!" cried Dart, startled again.</p> + +<p>The strange Majestic Awful Idea—the Deity of the Ages—to be spoken of as +a mere unfeared Reality! And even as the vaguely formed thought sprang in +his brain he started once more, suddenly confronted by the meaning his +sense of shock implied. What had all the sermons of all the centuries been +preaching but that it was Reality? What had all <a name="Page_107" id="Page_107" />the infidels of every age +contended but that it was Unreal, and the folly of a dream? He had never +thought of himself as an infidel; perhaps it would have shocked him to be +called one, though he was not quite sure. But that a little superannuated +dancer at music-halls, battered and worn by an unlawful life, should sit +and smile in absolute faith at such a—a superstition as this, stirred +something like awe in him.</p> + +<p>For she was smiling in entire acquiescence.</p> + +<p>"It's what the curick ses," she enlarged radiantly. "Though 'e don't +believe it, pore young man; 'e on'y thinks 'e does. 'It's for 'igh an' +low,' 'e ses, 'for you an' me as well as for them as is royal fambleys.<a name="Page_108" id="Page_108" /> +The Almighty 'E's <i>everywhere</i>!' 'Yes,' ses I, 'I've felt 'Im 'ere—as +near as y' are yerself, sir, I 'ave—an' I've spoke to 'Im.'"</p> + +<p>"What did the curate say?" Dart asked, amazed.</p> + +<p>"Seemed like it frightened 'im a bit. 'We mustn't be too bold, Miss +Montaubyn, my dear,' 'e ses, for 'e's a kind young man as ever lived, an' +often ses 'my dear' to them 'e's comfortin'. But yer see the lidy 'ad gave +me a Bible o' me own an' I'd set 'ere an' read it, an' read it an' learned +verses to say to meself when I was in bed—an' I'd got ter feel like it +was someone talkin' to me an' makin' me understand. So I ses, ''T ain't +boldness we're warned against; it's not lovin' an' trustin' enough, an' +not <a name="Page_109" id="Page_109" />askin' an' believin' <i>true</i>. Don't yer remember wot it ses: "I, even +I, am 'e that comforteth yer. Who art thou that thou art afraid of man +that shall die an' the son of man that shall be made as grass, an' +forgetteth Jehovah thy Creator, that stretched forth the 'eavens an' laid +the foundations of the earth?" an' "I've covered thee with the shadder of +me 'and," it ses; an' "I will go before thee an' make the rough places +smooth;" an' "'Itherto ye 'ave asked nothin' in my name; ask therefore +that ye may receive, an' yer joy may be made full."' An' 'e looked down on +the floor as if 'e was doin' some 'ard thinkin', pore young man, an' 'e +ses, quite sudden an' shaky, 'Lord, I believe, 'elp thou my unbelief,' an' +'e <a name="Page_110" id="Page_110" />ses it as if 'e was in trouble an' didn't know 'e'd spoke out loud."</p> + +<p>"Where—how did you come upon your verses?" said Dart. "How did you find +them?"</p> + +<p>"Ah," triumphantly, "they was all answers—they was the first answers I +ever 'ad. When I first come 'ome an' it seemed as if I was goin' to be +swep' away in the dirt o' the street—one day when I was near drove wild +with cold an' 'unger, I set down on the floor an' I dragged the Bible to +me an' I ses: 'There ain't nothin' on earth or in 'ell as'll 'elp me. I'm +goin' to do wot the lidy said—mad or not.' An' I 'eld the book—an' I +'eld my breath, too, 'cos it was like waitin' for the end o' the +world—an' after a bit I 'ears <a name="Page_111" id="Page_111" />myself call out in a 'oller whisper, +'Speak, Lord, thy servant 'eareth. Show me a 'ope.' An' I was tremblin' +all over when I opened the book. An' there it was! 'I will go before thee +an' make the rough places smooth, I will break in pieces the doors of +brass and will cut in sunder the bars of iron.' An' I knowed it was a +answer."</p> + +<p>"You—knew—it—was an answer?"</p> + +<p>"Wot else was it?" with a shining face. "I'd arst for it, an' there it +was. An' in about a hour Glad come runnin' up 'ere, an' she'd 'ad a bit o' +luck—"</p> + +<p>"'Twasn't nothin' much," Glad broke in deprecatingly, "on'y I'd got +somethin' to eat an' a bit o' fire."</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_112" id="Page_112" />An' she made me go an' 'ave a 'earty meal, an' set an' warm meself. An' +she was that cheerfle an' full o' pluck, she 'elped me to forget about the +things that was makin' me into a madwoman. <i>She</i> was the answer—same as +the book 'ad promised. They comes in different wyes the answers does. +Bless yer, they don't come in claps of thunder an' streaks o' +lightenin'—they just comes easy an' natural—so's sometimes yer don't +think for a minit or two that they're answers at all. But it comes to yer +in a bit an' yer 'eart stands still for joy. An' ever since then I just go +to me book an' arst. P'raps," her smile an illuminating thing, "me bein' +the low an' pore in spirit at the beginnin', an' settin' 'ere all alone by +me<a name="Page_113" id="Page_113" />self day in an' day out, just thinkin' it all over—an' arstin'—an' +waitin'—p'raps light was gave me 'cos I was in such a little place an' in +the dark. But I ain't pore in spirit now. Lor', no, yer can't be when +yer've on'y got to believe. 'An' 'itherto ye 'ave arst nothin' in my name; +arst therefore that ye may receive an' yer joy be made full.'"</p> + +<p>"Am I sitting here listening to an old female reprobate's disquisition on +religion?" passed through Antony Dart's mind. "Why am I listening? I am +doing it because here is a creature who <i>believes</i>—knowing no doctrine, +knowing no church. She <i>believes</i>—she thinks she <i>knows</i> her Deity is by +her side. She is not afraid. To her simpleness the awful<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114" /> Unknown is the +Known—and <i>with</i> her."</p> + +<p>"Suppose it were true," he uttered aloud, in response to a sense of inward +tremor, "suppose—it—were—<i>true?</i>" And he was not speaking either to the +woman or the girl, and his forehead was damp.</p> + +<p>"Gawd!" said Glad, her chin almost on her knees, her eyes staring +fearsomely. "S'pose it was—an' us sittin' 'ere an' not knowin' it—an' no +one knowin' it—nor gettin' the good of it. Sime as if—" pondering hard +in search of simile, "sime as if no one 'ad never knowed about +'lectricity, an' there wasn't no 'lectric lights nor no 'lectric nothin'. +Onct nobody knowed, an' all the sime it was there—jest waitin'."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115" />Her fantastic laugh ended for her with a little choking, vaguely hysteric +sound.</p> + +<p>"Blimme," she said. "Ain't it queer, us not knowin'—<i>if it's true</i>."</p> + +<p>Antony Dart bent forward in his chair. He looked far into the eyes of the +ex-dancer as if some unseen thing within them might answer him. Miss +Montaubyn herself for the moment he did not see.</p> + +<p>"What," he stammered hoarsely, his voice broken with awe, "what of the +hideous wrongs—the woes and horrors—and hideous wrongs?"</p> + +<p>"There wouldn't be none if <i>we</i> was right—if we never thought nothin' but +'Good's comin'—good's 'ere.' If we everyone of us thought it—every minit +of every day."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116" />She did not know she was speaking of a millennium—the end of the world. +She sat by her one candle, threading her needle and believing she was +speaking of To-day.</p> + +<p>He laughed a hollow laugh.</p> + +<p>"If <i>we</i> were right!" he said. "It would take long—long—long—to make us +all so."</p> + +<p>"It would be slow p'raps. Well, so it would—but good comes quick for them +as begins callin' it. It's been quick for <i>me</i>," drawing her thread +through the needle's eye triumphantly. "Lor', yes, me legs is better—me +luck's better—people's better. Bless yer, yes!"</p> + +<p>"It's true," said Glad; "she gets on somehow. Things comes. She never +wants no drink. Me now," <a name="Page_117" id="Page_117" />she applied to Miss Montaubyn, "if I took it up +same as you—wot'd come to a gal like me?"</p> + +<p>"Wot ud yer want ter come?" Dart saw that in her mind was an absolute lack +of any premonition of obstacle. "Wot'd yer arst fer in yer own mind?"</p> + +<p>Glad reflected profoundly.</p> + +<p>"Polly," she said, "she wants to go 'ome to 'er mother an' to the country. +I ain't got no mother an' wot I 'ear of the country seems like I'd get +tired of it. Nothin' but quiet an' lambs an' birds an' things growin.' Me, +I likes things goin' on. I likes people an' 'and organs an' 'buses. I'd +stay 'ere—same as I told <i>you</i>," with a jerk of her hand toward Dart.</p> + +<p>"An' do things in the court—if<a name="Page_118" id="Page_118" /> I 'ad a bit o' money. I don't want to +live no gay life when I'm a woman. It's too 'ard. Us pore uns ends too +bad. Wisht I knowed I could get on some'ow."</p> + +<p>"Good'll come," said Miss Montaubyn. "Just you say the same as me every +mornin'—'Good's fillin' the world, an' some of it's comin' to me. It's +bein' sent—an' I'm goin' to meet it. It's comin'—it's comin'.'" She bent +forward and touched the girl's shoulder with her astonishing eyes alight. +"Bless yer, wot's in my room's in yours; Lor', yes."</p> + +<p>Glad's eyes stared into hers, they became mysteriously, almost awesomely, +astonishing also.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" she breathed in a hushed voice.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_119" id="Page_119" />Yes, Lor', yes! When yer get up in the mornin' you just stand still an' +<i>arst</i> it. 'Speak, Lord,' ses you; 'speak, Lord—'"</p> + +<p>"Thy servant 'eareth," ended Glad's hushed speech. "Blimme, but I'm goin' +to try it!"</p> + +<p>Perhaps the brain of her saw it still as an incantation, perhaps the soul +of her, called up strangely out of the dark and still new-born and blind +and vague, saw it vaguely and half blindly as something else.</p> + +<p>Dart was wondering which of these things were true.</p> + +<p>"We've never been expectin' nothin' that's good," said Miss Montaubyn. +"We're allus expectin' the other. Who isn't? I was allus expectin' +rheumatiz an' 'unger an'<a name="Page_120" id="Page_120" /> cold an' starvin' old age. Wot was you lookin' +for?" to Dart.</p> + +<p>He looked down on the floor and answered heavily.</p> + +<p>"Failing brain—failing life—despair—death!"</p> + +<p>"None of 'em's comin'—if yer don't call 'em. Stand still an' listen for +the other. It's the other that's <i>true</i>."</p> + +<p>She was without doubt amazing. She chirped like a bird singing on a bough, +rejoicing in token of the shining of the sun.</p> + +<p>"It's wot yer can work on—this," said Glad. "The curick—'e's a good sort +an' no' 'arm in 'im—but 'e ses: 'Trouble an' 'unger is ter teach yer ter +submit. Accidents an' coughs as tears yer lungs is sent <a name="Page_121" id="Page_121" />you to prepare +yer for 'eaven. If yer loves 'Im as sends 'em, yer'll go there.' ''Ave yer +ever bin?' ses I. ''Ave yer ever saw anyone that's bin? 'Ave yer ever saw +anyone that's saw anyone that's bin?' 'No,' 'e ses. 'Don't, me girl, +don't!' 'Garn,' I ses; 'tell me somethin' as'll do me some good afore I'm +dead! 'Eaven's too far off.'"</p> + +<p>"The kingdom of 'eaven is at 'and," said Miss Montaubyn. "Bless yer, yes, +just 'ere."</p> + +<p>Antony Dart glanced round the room. It was a strange place. But something +<i>was</i> here. Magic, was it? Frenzy—dreams—what?</p> + +<p>He heard from below a sudden murmur and crying out in the street. Miss +Montaubyn heard it <a name="Page_122" id="Page_122" />and stopped in her sewing, holding her needle and +thread extended.</p> + +<p>Glad heard it and sprang to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Somethin's 'appened," she cried out. "Someone's 'urt."</p> + +<p>She was out of the room in a breath's space. She stood outside listening a +few seconds and darted back to the open door, speaking through it. They +could hear below commotion, exclamations, the wail of a child.</p> + +<p>"Somethin's 'appened to Bet!" she cried out again. "I can 'ear the child."</p> + +<p>She was gone and flying down the staircase; Antony Dart and Miss Montaubyn +rose together. The tumult was increasing; people were <a name="Page_123" id="Page_123" />running about in +the court, and it was plain a crowd was forming by the magic which calls +up crowds as from nowhere about the door. The child's screams rose shrill +above the noise. It was no small thing which had occurred.</p> + +<p>"I must go," said Miss Montaubyn, limping away from her table. "P'raps I +can 'elp. P'raps you can 'elp, too," as he followed her.</p> + +<p>They were met by Glad at the threshold. She had shot back to them, +panting.</p> + +<p>"She was blind drunk," she said, "an' she went out to get more. She tried +to cross the street an' fell under a car She'll be dead in five minits. +I'm goin' for the biby."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124" />Dart saw Miss Montaubyn step back into her room. He turned involuntarily +to look at her.</p> + +<p>She stood still a second—so still that it seemed as if she was not +drawing mortal breath. Her astonishing, expectant eyes closed themselves, +and yet in closing spoke expectancy still.</p> + +<p>"Speak, Lord," she said softly, but as if she spoke to Something whose +nearness to her was such that her hand might have touched it. "Speak, +Lord, thy servant 'eareth."</p> + +<p>Antony Dart almost felt his hair rise. He quaked as she came near, her +poor clothes brushing against him. He drew back to let her pass first, and +followed her leading.</p> + +<p>The court was filled with men, <a name="Page_125" id="Page_125" />women, and children, who surged about the +doorway, talking, crying, and protesting against each other's crowding. +Dart caught a glimpse of a policeman fighting his way through with a +doctor. A dishevelled woman with a child at her dirty, bare breast had got +in and was talking loudly.</p> + +<p>"Just outside the court it was," she proclaimed, "an' I saw it. If she'd +bin 'erself it couldn't 'ave 'appened. 'No time for 'osspitles,' ses I. +She's not twenty breaths to dror; let 'er die in 'er own bed, pore thing!" +And both she and her baby breaking into wails at one and the same time, +other women, some hysteric, some maudlin with gin, joined them in a +terrified outburst.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_126" id="Page_126" />Get out, you women," commanded the doctor, who had forced his way across +the threshold. "Send them away, officer," to the policeman.</p> + +<p>There were others to turn out of the room itself, which was crowded with +morbid or terrified creatures, all making for confusion. Glad had seized +the child and was forcing her way out into such air as there was outside.</p> + +<p>The bed—a strange and loathly thing—stood by the empty, rusty fireplace. +Drunken Bet lay on it, a bundle of clothing over which the doctor bent for +but a few minutes before he turned away.</p> + +<p>Antony Dart, standing near the door, heard Miss Montaubyn speak to him in +a whisper.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_127" id="Page_127" />May I go to 'er?" and the doctor nodded.</p> + +<p>She limped lightly forward and her small face was white, but expectant +still. What could she expect now—O Lord, what?</p> + +<p>An extraordinary thing happened. An abnormal silence fell. The owners of +such faces as on stretched necks caught sight of her seemed in a flash to +communicate with others in the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Jinny Montaubyn!" someone whispered. And "Jinny Montaubyn" was passed +along, leaving an awed stirring in its wake. Those whom the pressure +outside had crushed against the wall near the window in a passionate +hurry, breathed on and rubbed the panes that they <a name="Page_128" id="Page_128" />might lay their faces +to them. One tore out the rags stuffed in a broken place and listened +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Jinny Montaubyn was kneeling down and laying her small old hand on the +muddied forehead. She held it there a second or so and spoke in a voice +whose low clearness brought back at once to Dart the voice in which she +had spoken to the Something upstairs.</p> + +<p>"Bet," she said, "Bet." And then more soft still and yet more clear, "Bet, +my dear."</p> + +<p>It seemed incredible, but it was a fact. Slowly the lids of the woman's +eyes lifted and the pupils fixed themselves on Jinny Montaubyn, who leaned +still closer and spoke again.</p> + +<p>"'T ain't true," she said. "Not <a name="Page_129" id="Page_129" />this. 'T ain't <i>true</i>. There <i>is no +death</i>," slow and soft, but passionately distinct. +<i>"There—is—no—death."</i></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="d189" id="d189"></a> +<img src="images/d189.gif" +alt=""There—is—no—death."" +title=""There—is—no—death."" /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>"There—is—no—death."</b></p> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<p>The muscles of the woman's face twisted it into a rueful smile. The three +words she dragged out were so faint that perhaps none but Dart's strained +ears heard them.</p> + +<p>"Wot—price—<i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>The soul of her was loosening fast and straining away, but Jinny Montaubyn +followed it.</p> + +<p><i>"There—is—no—death,"</i> and her low voice had the tone of a slender +silver trumpet. "In a minit yer'll know—in a minit. Lord," lifting her +expectant face, "show her the wye."</p> + +<p>Mysteriously the clouds were clearing from the sodden face—mysteri<a name="Page_130" id="Page_130" />ously. +Miss Montaubyn watched them as they were swept away! A minute—two +minutes—and they were gone. Then she rose noiselessly and stood looking +down, speaking quite simply as if to herself.</p> + +<p>"Ah," she breathed, "she <i>does</i> know now—fer sure an' certain."</p> + +<p>Then Antony Dart, turning slightly, realized that a man who had entered +the house and been standing near him, breathing with light quickness, +since the moment Miss Montaubyn had knelt, was plainly the person Glad had +called the "curick," and that he had bowed his head and covered his eyes +with a hand which trembled.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV" /><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131" />IV</h2> + + +<p>He was a young man with an eager soul, and his work in Apple Blossom Court +and places like it had torn him many ways. Religious conventions +established through centuries of custom had not prepared him for life +among the submerged. He had struggled and been appalled, he had wrestled +in prayer and felt himself unanswered, and in repentance of the feeling +had scourged himself with thorns. Miss Montaubyn, returning from the +hospital, had filled him at first with horror and protest.</p> + +<p>"But who knows—who knows?" he said to Dart, as they stood and talked +together afterward, "Faith as <a name="Page_132" id="Page_132" />a little child. That is literally hers. And +I was shocked by it—and tried to destroy it, until I suddenly saw what I +was doing. I was—in my cloddish egotism—trying to show her that she was +irreverent <i>because</i> she could believe what in my soul I do not, though I +dare not admit so much even to myself. She took from some strange passing +visitor to her tortured bedside what was to her a revelation. She heard it +first as a child hears a story of magic. When she came out of the +hospital, she told it as if it was one. I—I—" he bit his lips and +moistened them, "argued with her and reproached her. Christ the Merciful, +forgive me! She sat in her squalid little room with her magic—sometimes +<a name="Page_133" id="Page_133" />in the dark—sometimes without fire, and she clung to it, and loved it +and asked it to help her, as a child asks its father for bread. When she +was answered—and God forgive me again for doubting that the simple good +that came to her <i>was</i> an answer—when any small help came to her, she was +a radiant thing, and without a shadow of doubt in her eyes told me of it +as proof—proof that she had been heard. When things went wrong for a day +and the fire was out again and the room dark, she said, 'I 'aven't kept +near enough—I 'aven't trusted <i>true</i>. It will be gave me soon,' and when +once at such a time I said to her, 'We must learn to say, Thy will be +done,' she smiled up at me like a happy baby and answered:<a name="Page_134" id="Page_134" /> 'Thy will be +done on earth <i>as it is in 'eaven</i>. Lor', there's no cold there, nor no +'unger nor no cryin' nor pain. That's the way the will is done in 'eaven. +That's wot I arst for all day long—for it to be done on earth as it is in +'eaven.' What could I say? Could I tell her that the will of the Deity on +the earth he created was only the will to do evil—to give pain—to crush +the creature made in His own image. What else do we mean when we say under +all horror and agony that befalls, 'It is God's will—God's will be done.' +Base unbeliever though I am, I could not speak the words. Oh, she has +something we have not. Her poor, little misspent life has changed itself +into a shining thing, though it shines <a name="Page_135" id="Page_135" />and glows only in this hideous +place. She herself does not know of its shining. But Drunken Bet would +stagger up to her room and ask to be told what she called her 'pantermine' +stories. I have seen her there sitting listening—listening with strange +quiet on her and dull yearning in her sodden eyes. So would other and +worse women go to her, and I, who had struggled with them, could see that +she had reached some remote longing in their beings which I had never +touched. In time the seed would have stirred to life—it is beginning to +stir even now. During the months since she came back to the court—though +they have laughed at her—both men and women have begun to see her as a +creature weirdly <a name="Page_136" id="Page_136" />set apart. Most of them feel something like awe of her; +they half believe her prayers to be bewitchments, but they want them on +their side. They have never wanted mine. That I have known—<i>known</i>. She +believes that her Deity is in Apple Blossom Court—in the dire holes its +people live in, on the broken stairway, in every nook and awful cranny of +it—great Glory we will not see—only waiting to be called and to answer. +Do <i>I</i> believe it—do you—do any of those anointed of us who preach each +day so glibly 'God is <i>everywhere</i>'? Who is the one who believes? If there +were such a man he would go about as Moses did when 'He wist not that his +face shone.'"</p> + +<p>They had gone out together and <a name="Page_137" id="Page_137" />were standing in the fog in the court. The +curate removed his hat and passed his handkerchief over his damp forehead, +his breath coming and going almost sobbingly, his eyes staring straight +before him into the yellowness of the haze.</p> + +<p>"Who," he said after a moment of singular silence, "who are you?"</p> + +<p>Antony Dart hesitated a few seconds, and at the end of his pause he put +his hand into his overcoat pocket.</p> + +<p>"If you will come upstairs with me to the room where the girl Glad lives, +I will tell you," he said, "but before we go I want to hand something over +to you."</p> + +<p>The curate turned an amazed gaze upon him.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_138" id="Page_138" />What is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Dart withdrew his hand from his pocket, and the pistol was in it.</p> + +<p>"I came out this morning to buy this," he said. "I intended—never mind +what I intended. A wrong turn taken in the fog brought me here. Take this +thing from me and keep it."</p> + +<p>The curate took the pistol and put it into his own pocket without comment. +In the course of his labors he had seen desperate men and desperate things +many times. He had even been—at moments—a desperate man thinking +desperate things himself, though no human being had ever suspected the +fact. This man had faced some tragedy, he could see. Had he been on the +verge of a crime—had<a name="Page_139" id="Page_139" /> he looked murder in the eyes? What had made him +pause? Was it possible that the dream of Jinny Montaubyn being in the air +had reached his brain—his being?</p> + +<p>He looked almost appealingly at him, but he only said aloud:</p> + +<p>"Let us go upstairs, then."</p> + +<p>So they went.</p> + +<p>As they passed the door of the room where the dead woman lay Dart went in +and spoke to Miss Montaubyn, who was still there.</p> + +<p>"If there are things wanted here," he said, "this will buy them." And he +put some money into her hand.</p> + +<p>She did not seem surprised at the incongruity of his shabbiness producing +money.</p> + +<p>"Well, now," she said, "I <i>was</i><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140" /> wonderin' an' askin'. I'd like 'er clean +an' nice, an' there's milk wanted bad for the biby."</p> + +<p>In the room they mounted to Glad was trying to feed the child with bread +softened in tea. Polly sat near her looking on with restless, eager eyes. +She had never seen anything of her own baby but its limp new-born and dead +body being carried away out of sight. She had not even dared to ask what +was done with such poor little carrion. The tyranny of the law of life +made her want to paw and touch this lately born thing, as her agony had +given her no fruit of her own body to touch and paw and nuzzle and caress +as mother creatures will whether they be women or tigresses or doves or +female cats.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_141" id="Page_141" />Let me hold her, Glad," she half whimpered. "When she's fed let me get +her to sleep."</p> + +<p>"All right," Glad answered; "we could look after 'er between us well +enough."</p> + +<p>The thief was still sitting on the hearth, but being full fed and +comfortable for the first time in many a day, he had rested his head +against the wall and fallen into profound sleep.</p> + +<p>"Wot's up?" said Glad when the two men came in. "Is anythin' 'appenin'?"</p> + +<p>"I have come up here to tell you something," Dart answered. "Let us sit +down again round the fire. It will take a little time."</p> + +<p>Glad with eager eyes on him <a name="Page_142" id="Page_142" />handed the child to Polly and sat down +without a moment's hesitance, avid of what was to come. She nudged the +thief with friendly elbow and he started up awake.</p> + +<p>"'E's got somethin' to tell us," she explained. "The curick's come up to +'ear it, too. Sit 'ere, Polly," with elbow jerk toward the bundle of +sacks. "It's got its stummick full an' it'll go to sleep fast enough."</p> + +<p>So they sat again in the weird circle. Neither the strangeness of the +group nor the squalor of the hearth were of a nature to be new things to +the curate. His eyes fixed themselves on Dart's face, as did the eyes of +the thief, the beggar, and the young thing of the street. No one glanced +away from him.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143" />His telling of his story was almost monotonous in its semi-reflective +quietness of tone. The strangeness to himself—though it was a strangeness +he accepted absolutely without protest—lay in his telling it at all, and +in a sense of his knowledge that each of these creatures would understand +and mysteriously know what depths he had touched this day.</p> + +<p>"Just before I left my lodgings this morning," he said, "I found myself +standing in the middle of my room and speaking to Something aloud. I did +not know I was going to speak. I did not know what I was speaking to. I +heard my own voice cry out in agony, 'Lord, Lord, what shall I do to be +saved?'"</p> + +<p>The curate made a sudden move<a name="Page_144" id="Page_144" />ment in his place and his sallow young face +flushed. But he said nothing.</p> + +<p>Glad's small and sharp countenance became curious.</p> + +<p>"'Speak, Lord, thy servant 'eareth,'" she quoted tentatively.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Dart; "it was not like that. I had never thought of such +things. I believed nothing. I was going out to buy a pistol and when I +returned intended to blow my brains out."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Glad, with passionately intent eyes; "why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I was worn out and done for, and all the world seemed worn out +and done for. And among other things I believed I was beginning slowly to +go mad."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145" />From the thief there burst forth a low groan and he turned his face to +the wall.</p> + +<p>"I've been there," he said; "I'm near there now."</p> + +<p>Dart took up speech again.</p> + +<p>"There was no answer—none. As I stood waiting—God knows for what—the +dead stillness of the room was like the dead stillness of the grave. And I +went out saying to my soul, 'This is what happens to the fool who cries +aloud in his pain.'"</p> + +<p>"I've cried aloud," said the thief, "and sometimes it seemed as if an +answer was coming—but I always knew it never would!" in a tortured voice.</p> + +<p>"'T ain't fair to arst that wye," Glad put in with shrewd logic.<a name="Page_146" id="Page_146" /> "Miss +Montaubyn she allers knows it <i>will</i> come—an' it does."</p> + +<p>"Something—not myself—turned my feet toward this place," said Dart. "I +was thrust from one thing to another. I was forced to see and hear things +close at hand. It has been as if I was under a spell. The woman in the +room below—the woman lying dead!" He stopped a second, and then went on: +"There is too much that is crying out aloud. A man such as I am—it has +<i>forced</i> itself upon me—cannot leave such things and give himself to the +dust. I cannot explain clearly because I am not thinking as I am +accustomed to think. A change has come upon me. I shall not use the +pistol—as I meant to use it."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147" />Glad made a friendly clutch at the sleeve of his shabby coat.</p> + +<p>"Right O!" she cried. "That's it! You buck up sime as I told yer. Y' ain't +stony broke an' there's allers to-morrer."</p> + +<p>Antony Dart's expression was weirdly retrospective.</p> + +<p>"I did not think so this morning," he answered.</p> + +<p>"But there is," said the girl. "Ain't there now, curick? There's a lot o' +work in yer yet; yer could do all sorts o' things if y' ain't too proud. +I'll 'elp yer. So'll the curick. Y' ain't found out yet what a little +folks can live on till luck turns. Me, I'm goin' to try Miss Montaubyn's +wye. Le's both try. Le's believe things is comin'.<a name="Page_148" id="Page_148" /> Le's get 'er to talk +to us some more."</p> + +<p>The curate was thinking the thing over deeply.</p> + +<p>"Yer see," Glad enlarged cheerfully, "yer look almost like a gentleman. +P'raps yer can write a good 'and an' spell all right. Can yer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I think, perhaps," the curate began reflectively, "particularly if you +can write well, I might be able to get you some work."</p> + +<p>"I do not want work," Dart answered slowly. "At least I do not want the +kind you would be likely to offer me."</p> + +<p>The curate felt a shock, as if cold water had been dashed over him. +Somehow it had not once occurred <a name="Page_149" id="Page_149" />to him that the man could be one of the +educated degenerate vicious for whom no power to help lay in any +hands—yet he was not the common vagrant—and he was plainly on the point +of producing an excuse for refusing work.</p> + +<p>The other man, seeing his start and his amazed, troubled flush, put out a +hand and touched his arm apologetically.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he said. "One of the things I was going to tell +you—I had not finished—was that I <i>am</i> what is called a gentleman. I am +also what the world knows as a rich man. I am Sir Oliver Holt."</p> + +<p>Each member of the party gazed at him aghast. It was an enormous name to +claim. Even the two female <a name="Page_150" id="Page_150" />creatures knew what it stood for. It was the +name which represented the greatest wealth and power in the world of +finance and schemes of business. It stood for financial influence which +could change the face of national fortunes and bring about crises. It was +known throughout the world. Yesterday the newspaper rumor that its owner +had mysteriously left England had caused men on 'Change to discuss +possibilities together with lowered voices.</p> + +<p>Glad stared at the curate. For the first time she looked disturbed and +alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Blimme," she ejaculated, "'e's gone off 'is nut, pore chap!—'e's gone +off it!"</p> + +<p>"No," the man answered, "you <a name="Page_151" id="Page_151" />shall come to me"—he hesitated a second +while a shade passed over his eyes—"<i>to-morrow</i>. And you shall see."</p> + +<p>He rose quietly to his feet and the curate rose also. Abnormal as the +climax was, it was to be seen that there was no mistake about the +revelation. The man was a creature of authority and used to carrying +conviction by his unsupported word. That made itself, by some clear, +unspoken method, plain.</p> + +<p>"You are Sir Oliver Holt! And a few hours ago you were on the point of—"</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="d191" id="d191"></a> +<img src="images/d191.gif" +alt=""And a few hours ago you were on the point of—"" +title=""And a few hours ago you were on the point of—"" /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>"And a few hours ago you were on the point of—"</b></p> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<p>"Ending it all—in an obscure lodging. Afterward the earth would have been +shovelled on to a work-house coffin. It was an awful thing<a name="Page_152" id="Page_152" />." He shook off +a passionate shudder. "There was no wealth on earth that could give me a +moment's ease—sleep—hope—life. The whole world was full of things I +loathed the sight and thought of. The doctors said my condition was +physical. Perhaps it was—perhaps to-day has strangely given a healthful +jolt to my nerves—perhaps I have been dragged away from the agony of +morbidity and plunged into new intense emotions which have saved me from +the last thing and the worst—<i>saved</i> me!"</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly and his face flushed, and then quite slowly turned +pale.</p> + +<p>"<i>Saved me</i>!" he repeated the words as the curate saw the awed blood +<a name="Page_153" id="Page_153" />creepingly recede. "Who knows, who knows! How many explanations one is +ready to give before one thinks of what we say we believe. Perhaps it +was—the Answer!"</p> + +<p>The curate bowed his head reverently.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it was."</p> + +<p>The girl Glad sat clinging to her knees, her eyes wide and awed and with a +sudden gush of hysteric tears rushing down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"That's the wye! That's the wye!" she gulped out. "No one won't never +believe—they won't, <i>never</i>. That's what she sees, Miss Montaubyn. You +don't, <i>'e</i> don't," with a jerk toward the curate. "I ain't nothin' but +<i>me</i>, but blimme if I don't—blimme!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154" />Sir Oliver Holt grew paler still. He felt as he had done when Jinny +Montaubyn's poor dress swept against him. His voice shook when he spoke.</p> + +<p>"So do I," he said with a sudden deep catch of the breath; "it was the +Answer."</p> + +<p>In a few moments more he went to the girl Polly and laid a hand on her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I shall take you home to your mother," he said. "I shall take you myself +and care for you both. She shall know nothing you are afraid of her +hearing. I shall ask her to bring up the child. You will help her."</p> + +<p>Then he touched the thief, who got up white and shaking and with eyes +moist with excitement.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_155" id="Page_155" />You shall never see another man claim your thought because you have not +time or money to work it out. You will go with me. There are to-morrows +enough for you!"</p> + +<p>Glad still sat clinging to her knees and with tears running, but the +ugliness of her sharp, small face was a thing an angel might have paused +to see.</p> + +<p>"You don't want to go away from here," Sir Oliver said to her, and she +shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, not me. I told yer wot I wanted. Lemme do it."</p> + +<p>"You shall," he answered, "and I will help you."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The things which developed in Apple Blossom Court later, the things <a name="Page_156" id="Page_156" />which +came to each of those who had sat in the weird circle round the fire, the +revelations of new existence which came to herself, aroused no amazement +in Jinny Montaubyn's mind. She had asked and believed all things—and all +this was but another of the Answers.</p> + +<div><br /></div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DAWN OF A TO-MORROW***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 460-h.txt or 460-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/6/460">https://www.gutenberg.org/4/6/460</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution.</p> + + + +<pre> +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +<a href="https://gutenberg.org/license">https://gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">https://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/460-h/images/d177.gif b/460-h/images/d177.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..222fa07 --- /dev/null +++ b/460-h/images/d177.gif diff --git a/460-h/images/d179.gif b/460-h/images/d179.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..974327e --- /dev/null +++ b/460-h/images/d179.gif diff --git a/460-h/images/d181.gif b/460-h/images/d181.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cff31c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/460-h/images/d181.gif diff --git a/460-h/images/d183.gif b/460-h/images/d183.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab07b84 --- /dev/null +++ b/460-h/images/d183.gif diff --git a/460-h/images/d185.gif b/460-h/images/d185.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c130df --- /dev/null +++ b/460-h/images/d185.gif diff --git a/460-h/images/d187.gif b/460-h/images/d187.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b622abc --- /dev/null +++ b/460-h/images/d187.gif diff --git a/460-h/images/d189.gif b/460-h/images/d189.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..20ec13c --- /dev/null +++ b/460-h/images/d189.gif diff --git a/460-h/images/d191.gif b/460-h/images/d191.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..42fdd58 --- /dev/null +++ b/460-h/images/d191.gif |
