Of course I am extremely sorry for your aunt. I think she is very much to be pitied. But when it comes to having her always here—”
“I know, dear. Don’t think I am looking forward to the prospect; you know I don’t want anybody but you. Still, we ought to think of the future, and besides we shall be able to live so very much better. I shall be able to give you all sorts of nice things that I know you ought to have after all that hard work in the City. Our income would be doubled.”
“Do you mean she would pay us £150 a year?”
“Certainly. And she would pay for the spare room being furnished, and any extra she might want. She told me, specially, that if a friend or two came now and again to see her, she would gladly bear the cost of a fire in the drawing-room, and give something towards the gas bill, with a few shillings for the girl for any additional trouble. We should certainly be more than twice as well off as we are now. You see, Edward, dear, it’s not the sort of offer we are likely to have again. Besides, we must think of the future, as I said. Do you know aunt took a great fancy to you?”
He shuddered and said nothing, and his wife went on with her argument.
“And, you see, it isn’t as if we should see so very much of her. She will have her breakfast in bed, and she told me she would often go up to her room in the evening directly after dinner. I thought that very nice and considerate. She quite understands that we shouldn’t like to have a third person always with us. Don’t you think, Edward, that, considering everything, we ought to say we will have her?”
“Oh, I suppose so,” he groaned. “As you say, it’s a very good offer, financially, and I am afraid it would be very imprudent to refuse. But I don’t like the notion, I confess.”
“I am so glad you agree with me, dear. Depend upon it, it won’t be half so bad as you think. And putting our own advantage on one side, we shall really be doing poor aunt a very great kindness. Poor old dear, she cried bitterly after you were gone; she said she had made up her mind not to stay any longer in Uncle Robert’s house, and she didn’t know where to go, or what would become of her, if we refused to take her in. She quite broke down.”
“Well, well; we will try it for a year, anyhow. It may be as you say; we shan’t find it quite so bad as it seems now. Shall we go in?”
He stooped for his pipe, which lay as it had fallen, on the grass. He could not find it, and lit a wax match which showed him the pipe, and close beside it, under the seat, something that looked like a page torn from a book. He wondered what it could be, and picked it up.
The gas was lit in the drawing-room, and Mrs. Darnell, who was arranging some notepaper, wished to write at once to Mrs. Nixon, cordially accepting her proposal, when she was startled by an exclamation from her husband.
“What is the matter?” she said, startled by the tone of his voice. “You haven’t hurt yourself?”
“Look at this,” he replied, handing her a small leaflet; “I found it under the garden seat just now.”
Mary glanced with bewilderment at her husband and read as follows:—
THE NEW AND CHOSEN SEED OF ABRAHAM
Prophecies to Be Fulfilled in the Present Year
1. The Sailing of a Fleet of One hundred and Forty and Four Vessels for Tarshish and the Isles.
2. Destruction of the Power of the Dog, including all the instruments of anti-Abrahamic legislation.
3. Return of the Fleet from Tarshish, bearing with it the gold of Arabia, destined to be the Foundation of the New City of Abraham.
4. The Search for the Bride, and the bestowing of the Seals on the Seventy and Seven.
5. The Countenance of Father to become luminous, but with a greater glory than the face of Moses.
6. The Pope of Rome to be stoned with stones in the valley called Berek-Zittor.
7. Father to be acknowledged by Three Great Rulers. Two Great Rulers will deny Father, and will immediately perish in the Effluvia of Father’s Indignation.
8. Binding of the Beast with the Little Horn, and all Judges cast down.
9. Finding of the Bride in the Land of Egypt, which has been revealed to Father as now existing in the western part of London.
10. Bestowal of the New Tongue on the Seventy and Seven, and on the One Hundred and Forty and Four. Father proceeds to the Bridal Chamber.
11. Destruction of London and rebuilding of the City called No, which is the New City of Abraham.
12. Father united to the Bride, and the present Earth removed to the Sun for the space of half an hour.
Mrs. Darnell’s brow cleared as she read matter which seemed to her harmless if incoherent. From her husband’s voice she had been led to fear something more tangibly unpleasant than a vague catena of prophecies.
“Well,” she said, “what about it?”
“What about it? Don’t you see that your aunt dropped it, and that she must be a raging lunatic?”
“Oh, Edward! Don’t say that. In the first place, how do you know that aunt dropped it at all? It might easily have blown over from any of the other gardens. And, if it were hers, I don’t think you should call her a lunatic. I don’t believe, myself, that there are any real prophets now; but there are many good people who think quite differently. I knew an old lady once who, I am sure, was very good, and she took in a paper every week that was full of prophecies and things very like this. Nobody called her mad, and I have heard father say that she had one of the sharpest heads for business he had ever come across.”
“Very good; have it as you like. But I believe we shall both be sorry.”
They sat in silence for some time. Alice came in after her “evening out,” and they sat on, till Mrs. Darnell said she was tired and wanted to go to bed.
Her husband kissed her. “I don’t think I will come up just yet,” he said; “you go to sleep, dearest. I want to think things over. No, no; I am not going to change my mind: your aunt shall come, as I said. But there are one or two things I should like to get settled in my mind.”
He meditated for a long while, pacing up and down the room. Light after light was extinguished in Edna Road, and the people of the suburb slept all around him, but still the gas was alight in Darnell’s drawing-room, and he walked softly up and down the floor. He was thinking that about the life of Mary and himself, which had been so quiet, there seemed to be gathering on all sides grotesque and fantastic shapes, omens of confusion and disorder, threats of madness; a strange company from another world. It was as if into the quiet, sleeping streets of some little ancient town among the hills there had come from afar the sound of drum and pipe, snatches of wild song, and there had burst into the market-place the mad company of the players, strangely bedizened, dancing a furious measure to their hurrying music, drawing forth the citizens from their sheltered homes and peaceful lives, and alluring them to mingle in the significant figures of their dance.
Yet afar and near (for it was hidden in his heart) he beheld the glimmer of a sure and constant star. Beneath, darkness came on, and mists and shadows closed about the town. The red, flickering flame of torches was kindled in the midst of it. The song grew louder, with
