There was a crowd of people of all
sorts outside the tenement house when Glory returned
to Brown’s Square, and even the stairs were thronged
with them. “The nurse!” they whispered
as Glory appeared, and they made a way for her.
Aggie was on the landing, wiping her eyes and answering
the questions of strangers, being half afraid of the
notoriety her poor room was achieving and half proud
of it.
“The laidy ’as came, Miss
Gloria, and she sent me to tell you to wyte ’ere
for ’er a minute.”
Then putting her head in at the open
doer she beckoned and Mrs. Callender came out.
“Hush! He’s coming
to. The poor laddie! He’s been calling
for ye, and calling and calling. But he thinks
ye’re in heaven together, seemingly, so ye must
no say anything to shock him. Come your ways in
now, and tak’ care, lassie.”
John was still wandering, and the
light of another world was in his eyes, but he was
smiling, and he appeared to see.
“Where is she?” he said
in the toneless voice of one who talks in his sleep.
“She’s here now. Look! She’s
close beside ye.”
Glory advanced a step and stood beside
the bed, struggling with herself not to fall upon
his breast. He looked at her with a smile, but
without any surprise, and said:
“I knew that you would come
to meet me, Glory! How happy you look! We
shall both be happy now.”
Then his eyes wandered about the poor,
ill-furnished apartment, and he said:
“How beautiful it is here!
And how lightsome the air is! Look! The golden
gates! And the seven golden candlesticks!
And the sea of glass like unto crystal! And all
the innumerable company of the angels!”
Aggie, who had returned to the room, was crying audibly.
“Are you crying. Glory?
Foolish child to cry! But I knowI
understand! Put your dear hand in mine, my child,
and we will go together to God’s throne and
say: ’Father, you must forgive us two.
We were but man and woman, and we could not help but
love each other, though it was a fault, and for one
of us it was a sin.’ And God will forgive
us, because he made us so, and because God is the
God of love.”
Glory could bear no more. “John!”
she whispered.
He raised himself on his elbow and
held his head aslant, like one who listens to a sound
that comes from a distance.
“John!”
“That’s Glory’s voice.”
“It is Glory, dearest."’
The serenity in his face gave way to a look of bewilderment.
“But Glory is dead.”
“No, dear, she is alive, and she will never
leave you again.”
“What place is this?”
“This is Aggie’s room.”
“Aggie?”
“Don’t you remember Aggie?
One of the poor girls you fought and worked for.”
“Is it your spirit, Glory?”
“It is myself, dearest, my very, very self.”
Then a great joy came into his eyes,
his breast heaved, his breath came quick, and without
a word more he stretched out his arms.
“It is Glory! She is alive! My God!
O my God!”
“Do you forgive me, Glory?”
“Forgive? There is nothing
to forgive you forexcept loving me too
well.”
“My darling! My darling!”
“I thought I was in heaven,
Glory, but I am like poor Buckinghamonly
half way to it yet. Have I been unconscious?”
Glory nodded her head.
“Long?”
“Since last night.”
“Ah, I remember everything now.
I was knocked down in the streets, wasn’t I?
The men did itPincher, Hawking, and the
rest.”
“They shall be punished, John,”
said Glory in a quivering voice. “As sure
as heaven’s above us and there’s law in
the land ”
“Aye, aye, laddie” (from
somewhere by the door), “mak’ yersel’
sure o’ that. There’ll be never a
man o’ them but he’ll hang for it same
as a polecat on a barn gate.”
But John shook his head. “Poor
fellows! They didn’t understand. When
they come to see what they’ve done
’Lord, Lord! lay not this sin to their charge.’”
She had wiped away the tears that
sprung to her eyes and was sitting by his side and
smiling. Her white teeth were showing, her red
lips were twitching, and her face was full of sunshine.
He was holding her hand and gazing at her constantly
as if he could not allow himself to lose sight of
her for a moment.
“But I’m half sorry, for all that, Glory,”
he said.
“Sorry?”
“That we are not both in the
other world, for there you were my bride, I remember,
and all our pains were over.”
Then her sweet face coloured up to
the forehead, and she leaned over the bed and whispered,
“Ask me to be your bride in this one, dearest.”
“I can’t! I daren’t!”
“Are you thinking of the vows?”
“No!” emphatically.
“ButI am a dying manI
know that quite well. And what right have I ”
She gave a little gay toss of her
golden head. “Pooh! Nobody was ever
married because he had a right to be exactly.”
“But there is your own professionyour
great career.”
She shook her head gravely. “That’s
all over now.”
“Eh?” reaching up on his elbow.
“When you had gone and nearly
everybody was deserting your work, I thought I should
like to take up a part of it.”
“And did you?”
She nodded.
“Blessed be God! Oh, God is very good!”
and he lay back and panted.
She laughed nervously. “Well,
are you determined to make me ashamed? Am I to
throw myself at your head, sir? Or perhaps you
are going to refuse me, after all.”
“But why should I burden all
the years of your life with the name of a fallen man?
I am dying in disgrace, Glory.”
“No, but in honourgreat,
great honour! These few bad days will be forgotten
soon, dearestquite, quite forgotten.
And in the future time people will come to me and
saygirls, dearest, brave, brave girls,
who are fighting the battle of life like menthey
will come and say: ’And did you know him?
Did you really, really know him?’ And I will
smile triumphantly and answer them ’Yes, for
he loved me, and he is mine and I am his forever and
forever!’”
“It would be beautiful!
We could not come together in this world; but to be
united for all eternity on the threshold of the next ”
“There! Say no more about
it, for it’s all arranged anyhow. The Father
has been persuaded to read the service, and the Prime
Minister is to bring the Archbishop’s license,
and it’s to be to-daythis eveningandand
I’m not the first woman who has settled everything
herself!”
Then she began to laugh, and he laughed
with her, and they laughed together in spite of his
weakness and pain. At the next moment she was
gone like a gleam of sunshine before a cloud, and Mrs.
Callender had come back to the bedside, tying up the
strings of her old-fashioned bonnet.
“She’s gold, laddie, that’s what
yon Glory isjust gold!”
“Aye, tried in the fire and
tested,” he replied, and then the back of his
head began to throb fiercely.
Glory had fled out of the room to
cry, and Mrs. Callender joined her on the landing.
“I maun awa’, lassie. I’d like
fine to stop wi’ ye, but I can’t.
It minds me of the time my Alec left me, and that’s
forty lang years the day, but he seems to have
been with me ever syne.”
“Where’s Glory?”
“She’s coming, Father,”
said Aggie, and at the sound of her name Glory wiped
her eyes and returned.
“And was it by my being lost
that you came here to Westminster and found me?”
“Yes, and myself as well.”
“And I thought my life had been
wasted! When one thinks of God’s designs
one feels humblehumble as the grass at
one’s feet But are you sure
you will never regret?”
“Never!”
“Nor look back?”
She tossed her head again. “Call
me Mrs. Lot at once, and have done with it.”
“It’s wonderful!
What a glorious work is before you, Glory! You’ll
take it up where I have left it, and carry it on and
on. You are nobler than I am, and stronger, far
stronger, and purer and braver. And haven’t
I said all along that what the world wants now is
a great woman? I had the pith of it all, though
I saw the true lightbut I was not worthy.
I had sinned and fallen, and didn’t know my
own heart, and was not fit to enter into the promised
land. It is something, nevertheless, that I see
it a long way off. And if I have been taken up
to Sinai and heard the thunders of the everlasting
law ”
“Hush, dear! Somebody is coming.”
It was the great surgeon whom the
Prime Minister had sent for. He examined the
injuries carefully and gave certain instructions.
“Mind you do this, Sister,” and that,
and the other. But Glory could see that he had
no hope. To relieve the pain in the head he wanted
to administer morphia, but John refused to have it.
“I am going into the presence
of the King,” he said. “Let me have
all my wits about me.”
While the doctor was there the police
sergeant returned with a magistrate and the reporter.
“Sorry to intrude, but hearing your patient was
now conscious ” and then
he prepared to take John’s deposition.
The reporter opened his notebook,
the police magistrate stood at the foot of the bed,
the doctor at one side of it and Glory at the other
side, holding John’s hand and quivering.
“Do you know who struck you, sir?”
There was silence for a moment, and then came “Yes.”
“Who was it?”
There was another pause, and then, “Don’t
ask me.”
“But your own evidence will
be most valuable; and, indeed, down to the present
we have no other. Who is it, sir?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“But why?”
There was no answer.
“Why not give me the name of
the scoundrel who took I mean attempted
to take your life?”
Then in a voice that was hardly audible,
with his head thrown back and his eyes on the ceiling,
John said, “Father, forgive them, for they know
not what they do!”
It was useless to go further. Glory saw the four
men to the door.
“You must keep him quiet,”
said the doctor. “Not that anything can
save him, but he is a man of stubborn will.”
And the police magistrate said, “It
may be all very fine to forgive your enemies, but
everybody has his duty to society, as well as to himself.”
“Yes, yes,” said Glory,
“the world has no room for greater hearts than
its own.”
The police magistrate looked at her
in bewilderment. “Just so,” he said,
and disappeared.
“Where is she now, my girl?”
“She’s ’ere, Father.”
“Hush!” said Glory, coming
back to the room. “The doctor says you are
not to talk so much.”
“Then let me look at you, Glory.
Sit herehereand if I should
seem to be suffering you must not mind that, because
I am really very happy.”
Just then an organ-man in the street
began to play. Glory thought the music might
disturb John, and she was going to send Aggie to stop
it. But his face brightened and he said:
“Sing for me, Glory. Let me hear your voice.”
The organ was playing a “coon
song,” and she sang the words of it. They
were simple words, childish words, almost babyish,
but full of tenderness and love. The little black
boy could think of nothing but his Loo-loo. In
the night when he was sleeping he awoke and he was
weeping, for he was always, always dreaming of his
Loo-loo, his Loo-loo!
When the song was finished they took
hands and talked in whispers, though they were alone
in the room now, and nobody could hear them. His
white face was very bright, and her moist eyes were
full of merriment. They grew foolish in their
tenderness and played with each other like little
children. There were recollections of their early
life in the little island home, memories of years
concentrated into an hourhumorous stories
and touches of mimicry. “’O Lord, open
thou our lips Where are you, Neilus?’
’Aw, here I am, your riverence, and my tongue
shall shew forth thy praise.’”
All at once John’s face saddened
and he said, “It’s a pity, though!”
“A pity!”
“I suppose the man who carries
the flag always gets ’potted,’as they say.
But somebody must carry it.”
Glory felt her tears gathering.
“It’s a pity that I have to go before
you, Glory.”
She shook her head to keep the tears
from flowing, and then answered gaily: “Oh,
that’s only as it should be. I want a little
while to think it all out, you know, and thenthen
I’ll pass over to you, just as we fall asleep
at night and pass from day to day.”
And then he lay back with a sigh and
said, “Well, I have had a happy end, at all
events.”