Warlock, entered.It was at that moment that Maggie had a revelation.The faces around her seemed to be suddenly gathered in front of her, and it was with a start of surprise that she suddenly realised: "Oh, but they don't believe in this any more than I do!"The faces around her were agitated, with odd humble beseeching looks, as though they were helpless utterly and were hoping that some one would suddenly come and lead them somewhere that they might be comfortable again and at ease.
There was not to-night, as there had been on other occasions (and especially during that service that Mr.Crashaw had conducted), any sign of religious and mystical excitement.The people seemed huddled together in the cold and draughty place against their will, and the very fact that the Chapel was only half full chilled the blood.No drama of exultation here, no band of God's servants gloriously preparing to meet Him, only the frightened open-mouthed gaze of a little gathering of servant girls and old maids.That was Maggie's first impression; then, when the service began, when the first hymn had been sung and Thurston had stumbled into his extempore prayer.
Maggie found herself caught into a strange companionship with the people around her.Not now ecstasy nor the excitement of religious fanaticism nor the superstitious preparation for some awful events--none of these emotions now lifted her into some strained unnatural sphere--no, nothing but a strange sympathy and kindness and understanding that she had never known in all her life before.She felt the hunger, the passionate appeal: "Oh God come! Prove Thy-self! We have waited so long.We have resisted unbelievers, we have fought our own doubts and betrayals, give us now a Sign! something by which we may know Thee!" and with that appeal the conviction in the hearts of almost all present that nothing would happen, that God would give no sign, that the age of miracles was past.
"Oh, why did He want to be so definite," she thought."Why couldn't He have left them as they were without forcing them to this."They were sitting down now, and Thurston, with his cheap sense of the dramatic and false emphasis, was reading from the New Testament.
Maggie looked to where Mr.Warlock was, a little to the right of Thurston, in his black gown, his head a little lowered, his hands on his lap.
When she saw him she was touched to the very heart.Why, he had aged in the last month a hundred years! He looked, sitting there, so frail and helpless that it seemed wonderful that he should have been able to get there at all.
His hair seemed to have an added intensity of whiteness to-night, and his beard lay against the black cloth of his gown with a contrast so sharp that it was unreal.Maggie fancied, as she watched him, that he was bewildered and scarcely knew where he was.Once he looked up and round about him; he put his hand to his brow and then let it fall as though he had no longer any control over it.
She was now so touched by the pathos of his helplessness that she could think of nothing else and longed to go to him and comfort him.
Time stole on and it was now ten minutes to twelve.They sang another hymn, but the voices were very weak and feeble and the words quivered round the building in a ghostly whisper.Then Thurston came to the Master and gave him his arm and led him to the reading-desk.
The old man seemed for a moment as though he would fall, then, holding to the front of the desk, he spoke in a very weak and faltering voice.Maggie could not catch many of his words: "My children--only a little time--Our preparation now is finished...
God has promised...Not the least of these His little ones shall perish...Let us not fear but be ready to meet Him as our Friend...our Friend...God our Father..." Then in a stronger voice: "Now during these last minutes let us kneel in silent prayer."They all knelt down.Maggie had no thoughts, no desire except that the time might pass; she seemed to kneel there asleep waiting for the moment when some one should tell her that the time had gone and she was safe.The moments dragged eternally; a thrilling suspense like a flood of water pouring into an empty space had filled the Chapel.No one moved.Suddenly into the heart of the silence there struck the first note of the clock tolling the hour.With Maggie it was as though that sound liberated her from the spell that had been upon her.She looked up; she saw the master standing, his hands stretched out, his face splendid with glory and happiness.
He looked beyond them all, beyond the Chapel, beyond the world.He gave one cry:
"My God, Thou art come." Some other words followed but were caught up and muffled.He fell forward, collapsing in a heap against the desk.His head struck the wood and then he lay there perfectly still.
Maggie could only dimly gather what happened after the sound of that fall.There seemed to her to be a long and terrible silence during which the clock continued remorselessly to strike.The Chapel appeared to be a place of shadows as though the gas had suddenly died to dim haloes; she was conscious that people moved about her, that Aunt Anne had left them, and that Aunt Elizabeth was saying to her again and again: "How terrible! How terrible! How terrible!"Then as though it were some other person, Maggie found herself very calmly speaking to Aunt Elizabeth.
"Are we to wait for Aunt Anne?" she whispered.
"Anne said we were to go home."
"Then let's go," whispered Maggie.
They went to the door, pushing, it seemed, through shadows who whispered and forms that vanished as soon as one looked at them.