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diff --git a/old/tdoat10.txt b/old/tdoat10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3f9f40 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/tdoat10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3830 @@ +******The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Dawn of A To-morrow**** +#6 in our series by Frances Hodgson Burnett + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois + Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Illinois Benedictine College". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Scanned by Charles Keller with +OmniPage Professional OCR software +donated by Caere Corporation, 1-800-535-7226. +Contact Mike Lough <Mikel@caere.com> + + + + + +THE DAWN OF A TO-MORROW +By FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT + + + + + +I + +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 +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 +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. + +The other way is marked by enormous +differences. + +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 +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. + +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 +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. + +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 +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. + +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, +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 +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? + +"Something is wrong," he mut- +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?" + +His thin lips drew themselves +back against his teeth in a mirthless +smile which was like a grin. + +"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." + +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 +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. + +But at other times he had said to +himself--with a shivering soul cowering +within him--that this was only +part of it all and was a beginning, +perhaps, of religious monomania. + +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, +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. + +He had come to the house the +night before, dressed shabbily with +the pitiable respectability of a +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 +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 +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? + +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. + +"Forgotten." He mentally +repeated the word as he got out of bed. +By this time to-morrow he should +have forgotten everything. THIS +TIME TO-MORROW. 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 +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. + +He laughed at the last phrase of +his thought, the laugh which was a +mirthless grin. + +"I am thinking of it as if I was +afraid of taking cold," he said. +"And to-morrow--!" + +There would be no To-morrow. +To-morrows were at an end. No +more nights--no more days--no +more morrows. + +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. + +"It is all right," he muttered. +"It is not far to the pawnshop +where I saw it." + +The stillness of the room as he +turned to go out was uncanny. As +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. + +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 +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 +he had not known he was going to +speak. + +"Lord! Lord! What shall I do +to be saved?" + +But the Silence gave no answer. +It was the Silence still. + +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. + + + +II + +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 +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. + +When he opened the street-door +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- +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. + +"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." + +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 +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. + +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. + +"I want to look at that pistol in +the right-hand corner of your window," +Antony Dart said. + +The pawnbroker uttered a sound +something between a half-laugh and +a grunt. He took the weapon from +the window. + +Antony Dart examined it critically. +He must make quite sure of +it. He made no further remark. +He felt he had done with speech. + +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. + +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, +suddenly understood that he was in +a strange place and had lost his +bearings. + +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. +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. + +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. + +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 +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. + +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 pawnbroker'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 +slip out and it had fallen upon the +stones. + +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. + +It was a human girl creature about +twelve years old. + +"Are yer goin' to do it?" she +said in a hoarse, street-strained voice. +"Yer would be a fool if yer did-- +with as much as that on yer." + +She pointed with a reddened, +chapped, and dirty hand at the +sovereign. + +"Pick it up," he said. "You may +have it." + +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. + +"Stop," he said; "I've got more +to give away." + +She hesitated--not believing +him, yet feeling it madness to lose a +chance. + +"MORE!" 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. + +"Gawd, mister!" she said. "Yer +can give away a quid like it was +nothin'--an' yer've got more--an' +yer goin' to do THAT--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." + +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 +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. + +"What do you mean?" he asked +glumly. + +She sidled nearer, her sharp eyes +on his face. + +"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 +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." + +"I--" he said, feeling the foolishness +of the statement, but making +it, nevertheless, "I am ill." + +"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." + +She pulled his coat with her +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. + +"How can you find your way?" +he said. "I lost mine." + +"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." + +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. + +"Where are you going?" he +asked. + +"Apple Blossom Court," she +answered. "The cawfee-stand's in a +street near it--and there's a shop +where I can buy things." + +"Apple Blossom Court!" he +ejaculated. "What a name!" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +It was impudent street chaff, but +there was cheerful spirit in it, and +cheerful spirit has some occult effect +upon morbidity. Antony Dart +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. + +"What is it you are going to +buy?" + +"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!" + +"Who is she?" + +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. + +"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. 'T wan'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 cryin' for 'er mother." + +"Where is her mother?" + +"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 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." + +"Where?" + +"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." + +"Take me to see it," said Antony +Dart. "I want to see the girl." + +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. +Yet he said this thing. His +companion looked up at him with an +expression actually relieved. + +"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." + +"Take me to see her." + +"She'd look better to-morrow," +cautiously, "when the swellin 's gone +down round 'er eye." + +Dart started--and it was because +he had for the last five minutes forgotten +something. + +"I shall not be here to-morrow," +he said. His grasp upon the thing +in his pocket had loosened, and he +tightened it. + +"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." + +She gave him one of the sly, +squinting glances. + +"Deservin' cases?" She put it to +him in brazen mockery. + +"I don't care," he answered slowly +and heavily. "I don't care a damn." + +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. + +" 'Ow much 'ave yer?" she asked. +" 'Ow much is it?" + +"About ten pounds." + +She stopped and stared at him +with open mouth. + +"Gawd!" she broke out; "ten +pounds 'd send Apple Blossom Court +to 'eving. Leastways, it'd take some +of it out o' 'ell." + +"Take me to it," he said roughly. +"Take me." + +She began to walk quickly, breathing +fast. The fog was lighter, and +it was no longer a blinding thing. + +A question occurred to Dart. + +"Why don't you ask me to give +the money to you?" he said bluntly. + +"Dunno," she answered as bluntly. +But after taking a few steps farther +she spoke again. + +"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 bibies +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." + +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- +mental man, and had long ceased to +be a feeling one, but at that moment +something emotional and normal +happened to him. + +"You expect to live in that way?" +he said. + +"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 ARE a devil.' " + +She was leading him through a +narrow, filthy back street, and she +stopped, grinning up in his face. + +"I say, mister," she wheedled, +"let's stop at the cawfee-stand. +It's up this way." + +When he acceded and followed +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. + +"Come along," said the girl. +"There it is. It ain't strong, but +it 's 'ot." + +She sidled up to the stand, drawing +Dart with her, as if glad of his +protection. + +" '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 mesself." + +"Garn," growled Barney. "You +an' yer luck! Gent may want a +mug, but y'd show yer money fust." + +"Strewth! I've got it. Y' aint got +the chinge fer wot I 'ave in me 'and +'ere. 'As 'e, mister?" + +"Show it," taunted the man, and +then turning to Dart. "Yer wants +a mug o' cawfee?" + +"Yes." + +The girl held out her hand +cautiously--the piece of gold lying +upon its palm. + +"Look 'ere," she said. + +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. + +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, +and the man wheeled with a hoarse, +baffled curse. The place had no +outlet. + +"Hell!" was all the creature said. + +Dart took him by his greasy collar. +Even the brief rush had left him feeling +like a living thing--which was +a new sensation. + +"Give it up," he ordered. + +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. + +"I 'm as hungry as she is," he +raved. + +"Hungry enough to rob a child +beggar?" said Dart. + +"Hungry enough to rob a starving +old woman--or a baby," with +a defiant snort. "Wolf hungry-- +tiger hungry--hungry enough to +cut throats." + +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. + +"Hell!" he choked. "I 'll give +it up! I 'll give it up!" + +What a figure--what a figure, as +he swung against the blackened wall, +his scarecrow clothes hanging on him, +their once decent material making +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. + +"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?" + +The thief lurched away from the +wall and toward him. He stared up +into his eyes through the fog. The +tears had smeared his cheekbones. + +"God!" he said. "Will I come? +Look and see if I'll come." Dart +looked. + +"Yes, you 'll come," he answered, +and he gave him the money. "I 'm +going back to the coffee-stand." + +The thief stood staring after him +as he went out of the court. Dart +was speaking to himself. + +"I don't know why I did it," he +said. "But the thing had to be +done." + +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. + +"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. + +"Here is your sovereign," Dart +said, handing it to her. + +She dropped the corner of the +sack and looked up with a queer +laugh. + +"Did yer find a copper? Did yer +give him in charge?" + +"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." + +She stopped short and drew back +a pace to stare up at him. + +"Well," she gave forth, "y' ARE a +queer one!" + +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. + +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. + +"Hello, Glad!" she cried out. +"Got yer suvrink back?" + +Glad--it seemed to be the creature's +wild name--nodded, but held +close to her companion's side, clutching +his coat. + +"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." + +"What did she call you?" Antony +Dart asked her as they went. + +"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 mesself 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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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 +compared with his present surroundings +made a difference. + +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. + +"Ain't I in luck?" she said, handing +her mug back when it was empty. +"Gi' me another, Barney." + +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. + +"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." + +She hurried him along, breaking +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. + +"Bought sack an' all," she said +elatedly. "A sack 's a good thing +to 'ave." + +"Let me carry it for you," said +Antony Dart + +"Spile yer coat," with her sidelong +upward glance. + +"I don't care," he answered. "I +don't care a damn." + +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 +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. + +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. + +Glad, with the wealth of the pork +and ham shop and other riches in +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: + +" '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." + +The door opened slowly. On the +other side of it stood a girl with a +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. + +"I ain't fit to--to see no one," +she stammered pitifully. "Why did +you, Glad--why did you?" + +"Ain't no 'arm in 'IM," 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. + +"You need not be afraid of me," +Antony Dart said. He paused a +second, staring at her, and suddenly +added, "Poor little wretch!" + +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. + +Antony Dart knelt down on the +hearth and drew matches from his +pocket. + +"We ought to have brought some +paper," he said. + +Glad ran forward. + +"Wot a gent ye are!" she cried. +"Y' ain't never goin' to light it?" + +"Yes." + +She ran back to the rickety table +and collected the scraps of paper +which had held her purchases. +They were small, but useful. + +"That wot was round the sausage +an' the puddin's greasy," she +exulted. + +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 +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. + +"Ye've put on a lot," she cried; +"but, oh, my Gawd, don't it warm +yer! Come on, Polly--come on." + +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 +set them in their paper wrappings on +the floor. + +"Let's all sit down close to it-- +close," she said, "an' get warm an' +eat, an' eat." + +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. + + + +III + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly Glad paused in the midst +of a huge bite. + +"Mister," she said, "p'raps that +cove's waitin' fer yer. Let's 'ave +'im in. I'll go and fetch 'im." + +She was getting up, but Dart was +on his feet first. + +"I must go," he said. "He is +expecting me and--" + +"Aw," said Glad, "lemme go +along o' yer, mister--jest to show +there's no ill feelin'." + +"Very well," he answered. + +It was she who led, and he who +followed. At the door she stopped +and looked round with a grin. + +"Keep up the fire, Polly," she +threw back. "Ain't it warm and +cheerful? It'll do the cove good to +see it." + +She led the way down the black, +unsafe stairway. She always led. + +Outside the fog had thickened +again, but she went through it as if +she could see her way. + +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. + +"I ain't up to no 'arm," she +said; "I on'y come with the gent." + +Antony Dart spoke to him. + +"Did you get food?" + +The man shook his head. + +"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 +some bread and stuffed it in my +pocket. I've been eating it while +I've stood here." + +"Come back with us," said Dart. +"We are in a place where we have +some food." + +He spoke mechanically, and was +aware that he did so. He was a +pawn pushed about upon the board +of this day's life. + +"Come on," said the girl. "Yer +can get enough to last fer three +days." + +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. + +When the door opened the thief +fell back a pace as before an unex- +pected thing. It was the flare of +firelight which struck upon his eyes. +He passed his hand over them. + +"A fire!" he said. "I haven't +seen one for a week. Coming out +of the blackness it gives a man a +start." + +Improvident joy gleamed in Glad's +eyes. + +"We 'll be warm onct," she +chuckled, "if we ain't never warm +agaen." + +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. + +"Fill yerself up," she said. "Then +ye'll feel like yer can talk." + +The man tried to eat his food with +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. + +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 +knew--yes, somehow he KNEW--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? + +"Tell me," he said to the thief, +"how you came here." + +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. + +"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 +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 for +tunes 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 +FIRST--I swear I had! It was all +clear in my brain, and I was half +mad with joy over it, but I could +not afford to work it out. He +could, so to the end of time it will +be HIS." He struck his fist upon his +knee. + +"Aw!" The deep little drawl +was a groan from Glad. + +"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 KNEW I could pay back +ten times--a hundred times--what +I took." + +"You took money?" said Dart. + +The thief's head dropped. + +"No. I was caught when I was +taking it. I wasn't sharp enough. +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." + +Glad was leaning forward staring +at him, her roughened hands with +the smeared cracks on them clasped +round her knees. + +"Things 'AS to be finished," she +said. "They finish theirselves." + +"How do you know?" Dart +turned on her. + +"Dunno 'OW 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." + +Dart began to understand that it +was. And he also saw that this +ragged thing who knew nothing +whatever, looked out on the world +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. + +"Tell me how you came here," +he said. + +He spoke in a low voice and +gently. He did not want to frighten +her, but he wanted to know how SHE +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. + +"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 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. + +"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--" + +Polly broke into a smothered wail. + +"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." + +" 'E nearly did it," said Glad. + +" 'E went away sudden an' she 's +never 'eard word of 'im since." + +From under Polly's face-hiding +arm came broken words. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Buck up, Polly," she said, "we +ain't none of us finished yet. Look +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." + +Then she stopped and looked with +a wide grin at Antony Dart. + +"Ow did I come 'ere?" she said. + +"Yes," he answered, "how did +you come here?" + +"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 +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 +ME," and she chuckled again. + +Dart picked up some fresh sticks +and threw them on the fire. There +was some fine crackling and a new +flame leaped up. + +"If you could do what you liked," +he said, "what would you like to +do?" + +Her chuckle became an outright +laugh. + +"If I 'ad ten pounds?" she asked, +evidently prepared to adjust herself +in imagination to any form of un- +looked-for good luck. + +"If you had more?" + +His tone made the thief lift his +head to look at him. + +"If I 'ad a wand like the one Jem +told me was in the pantermine?" + +"Yes," he answered. + +She sat and stared at the fire a few +moments, and then began to speak in +a low luxuriating voice. + +"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 'IM a bit," +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?" + +"More than enough to do all you +have spoken of," answered Dart. + +"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. + +"Who is Miss Montaubyn?" + +"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?" + +Polly hid her face in her hands. + +"Oh, when they took her away to +the hospital!" she shuddered. "Oh, +when they lifted her up to carry +her!" + +"I thought Polly 'd 'ave a fit when +she 'eard 'er screamin' an' swearin'. +My! it was langwich! But it was +the 'orspitle did it." + +"Did what?" + +"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 +THINGS ain't cheerfle, PEOPLE 'S 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 +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." + +"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. + +"Is it a kind of religion?" he said. + +"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 +dropped sittin' down on the curb- +stone an' 'id 'is fice in 'is 'ands." + +Dart hid his own face after the +manner of the wretched curate. + +"No wonder," he groaned. His +blood turned cold. + +"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." + +She got up on her feet and threw +up her arms with a sudden jerk and +involuntary gesture. + +"I 'm alive! I 'm alive!" she +cried out, "I've got ter be took care +of NOW! That 's why I like wot she +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." + +Dart had sat staring at her--so +had Polly--so had the thief. Dart +rubbed his forehead. + +"I do not understand," he said. + +" 'T ain't understanding! It 's +believin'. Bless yer, SHE 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." + +It ended in their going out of the +room together again and stumbling +once more down the stairway's +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. + +" 'S on'y me, Miss Montaubyn," +she cried out. " 'S on'y Glad." + +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 +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? + +"Well, well," she said, "come in, +Glad, bless yer." + +"I've brought a gent to 'ear +yer talk a bit," Glad explained +informally. + +The small old woman raised her +twinkling old face to look at him. + +"Ah!" she said, as if summing up +what was before her. " 'E thinks +it 's worse than it is, doesn't 'e, now? +Come in, sir, do." + +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. + +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 +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. + +"Bless yer," said Miss Montaubyn, +"sit down." + +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. + +"Yer won't mind me goin' on +with me bit o' work?" she chirped. + +"Tell 'im wot it is," Glad suggested. + +"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." + +"Drunken Bet's biby plays with +'er ball all day," said Glad. + +"Ah!" said Miss Montaubyn, +drawing out a long needleful of +thread, "Bet, SHE thinks it worse +than it is." + +"Could it be worse?" asked Dart. +"Could anything be worse than +everything is?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"Never even 'eard 'er name," with +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." + +"What did she say?" + +"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." + +"What?" he said with a start. + +" 'E never done the accidents and +the trouble. It was us as went out +of the light into the dark. If we'd +kep' in the light all the time, an' +thought about it, an' talked about it, +we'd never 'ad nothin' else. 'Tain'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 THAT.' " + +"Believe?" said Dart heavily. + +She nodded. + +" `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 +believed a king was givin' us our +livin' an' takin' care of us who'd +be afraid of not 'avin' enough to +eat?' " + +"Who?" groaned Dart. He sat +hanging his head and staring at the +floor. This was another phase of +the dream. + +" `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 'ERE! Stretch out yer 'and,' she +ses, 'an' call out, "Speak, Lord, thy +servant 'eareth," an' ye'll 'ear an' SEE. + +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' +everythin' as if it was yer own child at +breast. An' no 'arm can come to +yer. Try it when yer go 'ome.' " + +"Did you?" asked Dart. + +Glad answered for her with a +tremulous--yes it was a TREMULOUS-- +giggle, a weirdly moved little sound. + +"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 +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 SAID it--just like she does-- +an' YOU come!" + +Plainly she had uttered whatever +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: "YOU +come. Yes, you did." + +"It was the answer," said Miss +Montaubyn, with entire simplicity as +she bit off her thread, "that 's wot it +was." + +Antony Dart lifted his heavy +head. + +"You believe it," he said. + +"I 'm livin' on believin' it," she +said confidingly. "I ain't got +nothin' else. An' answers keeps +comin' and comin'." + +"What answers?" + +"Bits o' work--an' things as +'elps. Glad there, she's one." + +"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." + +"What!" cried Dart, startled +again. + +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 +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. + +For she was smiling in entire +acquiescence. + +"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. +The Almighty 'E 's EVERYWHERE!' +`Yes,' ses I, `I've felt 'Im 'ere--as +near as y' are yerself, sir, I 'ave--an' +I've spoke to 'Im."' + +"What did the curate say?" Dart +asked, amazed. + +"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 +askin' an' believin' TRUE. 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 +ses it as if 'e was in trouble an' didn't +know 'e'd spoke out loud." + +"Where--how did you come upon +your verses?" said Dart. "How did +you find them?" + +"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 +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." + +"You--knew--it--was an +answer?" + +"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--" + +" 'T wasn't nothin' much," Glad +broke in deprecatingly, "on'y I'd got +somethin' to eat an' a bit o' fire." + +"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. SHE 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- +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.' " + +"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 BELIEVES--knowing +no doctrine, knowing no church. +She BELIEVES--she thinks she KNOWS +her Deity is by her side. She is not +afraid. To her simpleness the awful +Unknown is the Known--and WITH +her." + +"Suppose it were true," he uttered +aloud, in response to a sense of inward +tremor, "suppose--it--were +--TRUE?" And he was not speaking +either to the woman or the girl, and +his forehead was damp. + +"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'." + +Her fantastic laugh ended for her +with a little choking, vaguely +hysteric sound. + +"Blimme," she said. "Ain't it +queer, us not knowin'--IF IT'S TRUE." + +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. + +"What," he stammered hoarsely, +his voice broken with awe, "what +of the hideous wrongs--the woes +and horrors--and hideous wrongs?" + +"There wouldn't be none if WE +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." + +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. + +He laughed a hollow laugh. + +"If we were right!" he said. "It +would take long--long--long--to +make us all so." + +"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 ME," 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!" + +"It 's true," said Glad; "she gets +on somehow. Things comes. She +never wants no drink. Me now," +she applied to Miss Montaubyn, "if +I took it up same as you--wot'd +come to a gal like me?" + +"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?" + +Glad reflected profoundly. + +"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 YOU," with +a jerk of her hand toward Dart. +"An' do things in the court--if +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." + +"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." + +Glad's eyes stared into hers, they +became mysteriously, almost awesomely, +astonishing also. + +"Is it?" she breathed in a hushed +voice. + +"Yes, Lor', yes! When yer get +up in the mornin' you just stand still +an' ARST it. `Speak, Lord,' ses you; +`speak, Lord--' " + +"Thy servant 'eareth," ended +Glad's hushed speech. "Blimme, +but I 'm goin' to try it!" + +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. + +Dart was wondering which of +these things were true. + +"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' +cold an' starvin' old age. Wot was +you lookin' for?" to Dart. + +He looked down on the floor and +answered heavily. + +"Failing brain--failing life-- +despair--death!" + +"None of 'em 's comin'--if yer +don't call 'em. Stand still an' listen +for the other. It's the other that's +TRUE." + +She was without doubt amazing. +She chirped like a bird singing on a +bough, rejoicing in token of the +shining of the sun. + +"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 +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.' " + +"The kingdom of 'eaven is at +'and," said Miss Montaubyn. "Bless +yer, yes, just 'ere." + +Antony Dart glanced round the +room. It was a strange place. But +something WAS here. Magic, was +it? Frenzy--dreams--what? + +He heard from below a sudden +murmur and crying out in the +street. Miss Montaubyn heard it +and stopped in her sewing, holding +her needle and thread extended. + +Glad heard it and sprang to her +feet. + +"Somethin 's 'appened," she cried +out. "Someone 's 'urt." + +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. + +"Somethin 's 'appened to Bet!" +she cried out again. "I can 'ear the +child." + +She was gone and flying down the +staircase; Antony Dart and Miss +Montaubyn rose together. The tumult +was increasing; people were +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. + +"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. + +They were met by Glad at the +threshold. She had shot back to +them, panting. + +"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." + +Dart saw Miss Montaubyn step +back into her room. He turned +involuntarily to look at her. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +The court was filled with men, +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. + +"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. + +"Get out, you women," commanded +the doctor, who had forced +his way across the threshold. "Send +them away, officer," to the policeman. + +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. + +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. + +Antony Dart, standing near the +door, heard Miss Montaubyn speak +to him in a whisper. + +"May I go to 'er?" and the doctor +nodded. + +She limped lightly forward and +her small face was white, but expectant +still. What could she expect +now--O Lord, what? + +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. + +"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 +might lay their faces to them. One +tore out the rags stuffed in a broken +place and listened breathlessly. + +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. + +"Bet," she said, "Bet." And then +more soft still and yet more clear, +"Bet, my dear." + +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. + +" 'T ain't true," she said. "Not +this. 'T ain't TRUE. There IS NO +DEATH," slow and soft, but passionately +distinct. "THERE--IS--NO--DEATH." + +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. + +"Wot--price--ME?" + +The soul of her was loosening fast +and straining away, but Jinny Montaubyn +followed it. + +"THERE--IS--NO--DEATH," 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." + +Mysteriously the clouds were clearing +from the sodden face--mysteri- +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. + +"Ah," she breathed, "she DOES +know now--fer sure an' certain." + +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. + + + +IV + +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. + +"But who knows--who knows?" +he said to Dart, as they stood and +talked together afterward, "Faith as +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 BECAUSE +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 +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 WAS 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 TRUE. 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: + +`Thy will be done on earth AS IT IS IN +'EAVEN. 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 +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 +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--KNOWN. 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-- +a great Glory we will not see--only +waiting to be called and to answer. +Do _I_ believe it--do you--do any +of those anointed of us who preach +each day so glibly `God is EVERYWHERE'? +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.' " + +They had gone out together and +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. + +"Who," he said after a moment +of singular silence, "who are you?" + +Antony Dart hesitated a few +seconds, and at the end of his pause +he put his hand into his overcoat +pocket. + +"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." + +The curate turned an amazed gaze +upon him. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +Dart withdrew his hand from his +pocket, and the pistol was in it. + +"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." + +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 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? + +He looked almost appealingly at +him, but he only said aloud: + +"Let us go upstairs, then." + +So they went. + +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. + +"If there are things wanted here," +he said, "this will buy them." And +he put some money into her hand. + +She did not seem surprised at the +incongruity of his shabbiness producing +money. + +"Well, now," she said, "I WAS +wonderin' an' askin'. I'd like 'er +clean an' nice, an' there's milk +wanted bad for the biby." + +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 newborn +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. + +"Let me hold her, Glad," she half +whimpered. "When she 's fed let +me get her to sleep." + +"All right," Glad answered; "we +could look after 'er between us well +enough." + +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. + +"Wot 's up?" said Glad when the +two men came in. "Is anythin' +'appenin'?" + +"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." + +Glad with eager eyes on him +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. + +" '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." + +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. + +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. + +"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?' " + +The curate made a sudden move- +ment in his place and his sallow +young face flushed. But he said +nothing. + +Glad's small and sharp countenance +became curious. + +" `Speak, Lord, thy servant +'eareth,' " she quoted tentatively. + +"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." + +"Why?" asked Glad, with +passionately intent eyes; "why?" + +"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." + +From the thief there burst forth a +low groan and he turned his face to +the wall. + +"I've been there," he said; "I 'm +near there now." + +Dart took up speech again. + +"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.' " + +"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. + +" 'T ain't fair to arst that wye," +Glad put in with shrewd logic. + +"Miss Montaubyn she allers knows +it WILL come--an' it does." + +"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 FORCED 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." + +Glad made a friendly clutch at the +sleeve of his shabby coat. + +"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." + +Antony Dart's expression was +weirdly retrospective. + +"I did not think so this morning," +he answered. + +"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'. +Le 's get 'er to talk to us some +more." + +The curate was thinking the thing +over deeply. + +"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?" + +"Yes." + +"I think, perhaps," the curate began +reflectively, "particularly if you +can write well, I might be able to +get you some work." + +"I do not want work," Dart +answered slowly. "At least I do not +want the kind you would be likely +to offer me." + +The curate felt a shock, as if cold +water had been dashed over him. +Somehow it had not once occurred +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. + +The other man, seeing his start +and his amazed, troubled flush, put +out a hand and touched his arm +apologetically. + +"I beg your pardon," he said. +"One of the things I was going to +tell you--I had not finished--was +that I AM what is called a gentleman. +I am also what the world knows as a +rich man. I am Sir Oliver Holt." + +Each member of the party gazed +at him aghast. It was an enormous +name to claim. Even the two female +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. + +Glad stared at the curate. For the +first time she looked disturbed and +alarmed. + +"Blimme," she ejaculated, " 'e 's +gone off 'is nut, pore chap!--'e 's +gone off it!" + +"No," the man answered, "you +shall come to me"--he hesitated a +second while a shade passed over his +eyes--"TO-MORROW. And you shall +see." + +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. + +"You are Sir Oliver Holt! And +a few hours ago you were on the +point of--" + +"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." +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--SAVED +me!" + +He stopped suddenly and his face +flushed, and then quite slowly turned +pale. + +"SAVED ME!" he repeated the words +as the curate saw the awed blood +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!" + +The curate bowed his head +reverently. + +"Perhaps it was." + +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. + +"That 's the wye! That 's the +wye!" she gulped out. "No one +won't never believe--they won't, +NEVER. That's what she sees, Miss +Montaubyn. You don't, 'E don't," +with a jerk toward the curate. "I +ain't nothin' but ME, but blimme if I +don't--blimme!" + +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. + +"So do I," he said with a sudden +deep catch of the breath; "it was +the Answer." + +In a few moments more he went +to the girl Polly and laid a hand on +her shoulder. + +"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." + +Then he touched the thief, who +got up white and shaking and with +eyes moist with excitement. + +"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!" + +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. + +"You don't want to go away from +here," Sir Oliver said to her, and she +shook her head. + +"No, not me. I told yer wot I +wanted. Lemme do it." + +"You shall," he answered, "and +I will help you." + + +The things which developed in +Apple Blossom Court later, the things +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. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Dawn of A To-morrow + |