All Roads Lead to Calvary
e and her father should spend Christmas with his people at Birmingham. Her father thought he would like
rthur how his impulsiveness had interfered with it. Arthur, crestfallen, suggested telegrams. It would be quite easy to alter everything; and of course her father would rather be with her, wherever it was. But it seemed it was too late. She ought to have been consulted. A sudden sense of proprietorship in her father came to her assistance and added patho
rself. It was an unpleasant sensation and somewhat new to her experience. An evening spent in Arthur's company might do her good. The experiment proved successful. He really was quite a dear boy. Eyeing him thoughtfully through the smoke of her cigarette, it occurred to her how like he
She was feeling very kindly towards him; and was able to soften her decision with touches of gentle regret. He did not appear in the least upset. But 'though
ude of aloofness. What did he mean by a "noble
though he had no objection to a worthy Duke. He meant any
ose to her. At present no sign of him had appeared above the horizon. Her own idea was that, if she lived long eno
ile about his mouth. But his e
hat you are old and
air was grey-or rather white. She had been informed by exp
y me when your hair is w
e. "Yes," she answered. "In case you haven't
o your promise," he
ly. "I want you to marry," she said, "and b
worshipping eyes of his that always ma
th you always so that I might serve you. But I am quite happy, lovi
prayer that she might always be worthy of his homage
father at The Pines. They were busy on a plan for securing the co-operation of the workmen, and she promised
m and his mother, and even Madge had been struck homesick. It happened to be a Sunday, too, of all days in the week, and London in a drizzling rain was just about the limit. She worked till late in the afternoon, but, sitting down to her solitary cup o
on had smiled and nodded. The service, with its need for being continually upon the move, bored her; she was not in the mood for it. And the sermon, preached by a young curate who had not yet got over his Oxford drawl, was uninteresting. She had half hoped that the wheezy old clergyman, who had preached about Calvary on the evening she had first visited the church, would be there again. She wondered what had become of him, and if it were really a fact that she had known him when she was a chil
mas she had had, all by herself, without a soul to speak to except her l
so glad I did." She gave the little old lady a hug. Mar
Joan. "Now that I've seen a friendly fa
nd into Joan's. "You wouldn't care to come home and have
I?" answe
You won't mind if anybody drops in?" she sa
ean a party?
"It's only one or two who
thought she would
s company for me,
w and a door below. The upstairs rooms belonged to the churchwardens and were used as a storehouse for old parish registers, deemed of little value. Mary Stopperton and her be
the door?" s
s been found out just as it was h
he explained. "They know, if t
eated Joan in the worn horsehair easy-chair; out of which one had to be careful one did not
y for a minute," she said. "I
nt shrill, complaining voice. At times, it rose
tor's," she whispered. "His medici
red the exertion of talking might be too much for him. "He g
silent little house behind its strip of garde
wearing a large black hat and a black boa round her neck. Between them her face shone unnaturall
opperton has just gone round to the doctor'
and, apparently reassured,
d in the direction of the next room. She placed her bag care
little fretful," answ
ling better." She seated herself on the sofa and fi
oan. "I rather fa
aid the girl, "to buy hi
n, "so I made her promise not to part wit
this time," answered the girl. "
or with her back against the wall. Had sold every stick in the place and gone off. But she'd always some excuse for him. It was sure to be half her fault and the other half he couldn't help. Now she's got her
to depress her sp
g the time of her life: someone to look after for t
e in silence. "Are you
oan. "But my mot
"I'm in the chorus. It's better than being in ser
at," suggested Joan. "You
eyes and a mobile, sensitive mouth. "Oh, yes," she said, "I could act all
ought that sort of thing
answered. "Anyhow, it was the only chance I ever had.
could act," said Joan. "Next t
she said; "once you're put down as one of the s
dismissed with a toss of your head. I thought it all out. Don
e fire. "Have you known Mary
he girl. "Ever since
it over with h
y have just told her. She isn'
," said Joan: "that you pu
. "Afraid I wasn't thinking
that's the way the best fights
or in. She disappeared again, and they talked about themselves. The gi
etting on with peo
t. She shook her head at the contents, which consisted of a small, f
ned Mary. "You could have bought yourself
ouble of cooking it," answered the
earie," grumbled Mary. "There's
for your fun," she said. "I'll bring a sol
iss Ensor proceeded to lay the table. "How many, do you think?" she asked. Mary was do
She laid for four, leaving space for more if need be. "I call it the 'Cadger's Arms,'" she explained, turning to Joan. "We bring our own victuals, and
ins and a saucepan. "Of course I do, dearie," s
essed in black. He carried a paper parcel which he laid upon the table. He looked a little doubtf
utral ground. But in all matters of moment I expect we a
ered Joan, with a smile. "I, to
ple, so long as they remember that they are the People, and keep thei
ested Joan. "And I may still have to go on
imson, "someone has got to be Ma
t contained half a sheep's head. "How
o his eyes. "How did you do it last time?" he asked
," sugge
" He watched while Mary took things needful fro
ressing her individually or imaginary thousands. "Likes working for nothing. Thinks she was born to be everybody'
ked him. "Saw you from the distance, wav
u know. Sort of crowd that interrupts you and tries to
do it?" aske
on, with a burst of candour. "Can't h
ry?" suggest
happened to be passing last Wednesday when I was speaking
'em to like it, can yo
fight to the finish between me and the Bourgeois. I cover them with ri
get the best of you,"
another place all right: give me time. The on
with you?" inqu
tened. You know. Says life with me is going to be
t," advised Miss Ensor, "g
t to tackle them," he said. "Tell them th
n't be you," sugg
ham pie was ready. Mary arranged it in front of her. "Eat it while
, he's lost his job again, and is losing his girl: all because of
r had stated, advice was not her line. "Perha
?" exclaimed Miss Ensor. "Who's m
her cooking. "It's something inside us, dearie,"
that twaddle?" demanded Miss
ut I expect it's got its purpos
ie. The hirsute face of Mr. Simson had lost the foolish aggressiv
he was. "It's the smell of all the nice things," she explained. M
shoulders. Only the head seemed to have retained its vigour. The face, from which the long black hair was brushed straight back, was ghastly white. Out of it, deep set beneath great shaggy, overhanging brows, b
ectful, rose and offered his small, grimy hand. Mary took his hat and cloak away from him and closed the door b
aring his name. It
asked. She had often wonde
ird, the pariah, the blasphemer, the anti-Christ. I've hoofs instead of feet. Shall I take off my boots and show them to you? I tuck m
a paper bag. "You mustn't get excited," she said, laying her little
don't die on Christmas Day. It would ma
almost transparent hands str
room, broken only by Mary's ministerin
ir?" he asked. "I of
rietor, and editor and publisher, a
on the History of Superstition. Qui
fraid, to the final chapt
. Simson, "though I cannot myself go as far as you
Simson, eager for argument or
orner voice, "or whether, with the great French writer whose name for the moment escapes me, we regard Him m
cely that Mr. Simson's arm involunt
ere shall win for them some wonderful reward when they are dead. What has been his teaching to the poor? Bow your backs to the lash, kiss the rod that scars your flesh. Be ye humble, oh, my people. Be ye poor in spirit. Let Wrong rule triumphant through the world.
l taught. Their fat priests shall bear his message to the poor. The rod may be broken, the prison door be fo
y he was less familiar with the opinions
is words may have been twisted, Christ Himself I regard as divine, and e
's vigour had not y
avage head that the bony, wizened throat seemed hardly strong enough to bear. "Wealth, honour, happiness: I had them once. I had wife, children and a home. Now I creep an outcast, keeping to the shadows, and the children in
g finished her su
seem to pay you." There was a curious smile
with his last f
is cause came I into the world, that I shou
f her apron, and felt again his trembling hands. "Oh, please don't talk to him any more," she pleaded, "not till he's had his supper." She fetched her f
us dignity. He might have been some ancient prophet stepped from the pages of the Talmud. Miss Ensor comple
e to face. There was almost the sugges
he High Priests and the Pharisees; and Inez a dancer before the people; and Joanna a da
a Christian?" h
." She spoke without thinking, not quite knowing wha
could be interesting when he got away from his fanaticism; and even the ap
oor. Mary apologized. She had to go out. The party broke up. Mary disappeared into the next room and returne
she confided to Joan. She
said, "one so seldom hears of an
d never seen a face look quite so
ist's birthday," she said,
orner. Joan could see
kissed the littl
op," she
watched the little child-like figure growing
Romance
Romance
Romance
Billionaires
Werewolf
Billionaires