"I know what he means," said Anthony to himself, as he watched theretreating form. "He means that I have murdered her, and perhaps Ihave. She is sick of me and wants to get back to my father, who wasso different. That's why she won't go on living when she might. She iscommitting suicide--of a holy sort. Well, what made me a brute and heran angel? And when she's gone how will the brute get on without theangel? Why should I be filled with fury and wickedness and she of whomI was born with sweetness and light? Let God or the devil answer thatif they can. My mother, oh! my mother!" and this violent, sinister youthhid his face in his hands and wept.
Barbara sank down and down into a very whirlpool of nothingness. Bendingover it, as it were, she saw the face of her aged mother, the faces ofsome of her dear sisters, the face of the kindly doctor, and lastly theagonised face of her handsome son.
"Mother! Don't leave me, mother. Mother! for God's sake come back to me,mother, or we shall never meet again. Come back to save me!"
These were the last words that Barbara heard.
CHAPTER VIII
THE ATONEMENT
Now these are the things that seemed to happen to Barbara after herearthly death. Or rather some of the things, for most of them have fadedaway and been lost to her mortal memory.
Consciousness returned to her, but at first it was consciousness in anutter dark. Everywhere was blackness, and in it she was quite alone. Thewhole universe seemed to centre in her solitary soul. Still she felt nofear, only a kind of wonder at this infinite blank through which she wasbeing borne for millions and millions of miles.
Lights began to shine in the blackness like to those of passing shipsupon a midnight sea. Now she was at rest, and the rest was long andsweet. Every fear and sad thought, every sensation of pain or discomfortleft her. Peace flowed into her.
Presently she became aware of a weight upon her knee, and wondered bywhat it could be caused, for it reminded her of something; became awarealso that there was light about her. At length her eyes opened and sheperceived the light, though dimly, and that it was different to any shehad known, purer, more radiant. She perceived also that she lay upona low couch, and that the weight upon her knee was caused by somethingshaped like the head of a dog. Nay, it _was_ the head of a dog, and oneshe knew well, Anthony's dog, that had died upon his bed. Now she wassure that she dreamed, and in her dream she tried to speak to the dog.The words that her mind formed were:
"Nell! Is that you, Nell?" but she could not utter them.
Still they were answered, for it appeared to her that the dog thought,and that she could read its thought, which was:
"Yes, it is I, who though but a dog, having been the last to leave you,am allowed to be the first to greet you," and it lifted its head andlooked at her with eyes full of a wonderful love.
Her heart went out towards the faithful beast in a kind of rapture, andher intelligence formed another question, it was:
"Where am I, and if you, a creature, are here, where are the others?"
"Be patient. I only watch you till they come," was the answer.
"Till they come. Till who come?" she murmured.
Something within told her to inquire no more. But oh! was it possible--was the earth dream coming true?
A long while went by. She looked about her, and understood that she waslying in a great and beautiful room beneath a dome which seemed to befashioned of translucent ivory or alabaster. At the end of the room werecurtains woven of some glittering stuff that gave out light. At lengththese curtains were drawn, and through them, bearing a cup in her hand,passed a shape like to that of a mortal woman, only so radiant thatBarbara knew that had she been alive with the old life she would havefelt afraid.
This shape also was clad in garments that gave out light, and in itshair were jewelled flowers. It glided to her side and looked at her withloving, mysterious eyes. Then it held the cup to her lips, and said, orrather thought, for the speech of that land declared itself in thoughtand vision:
"Drink of this new wine."
She drank of the wine, and a wonderful life fell upon her like a glory.
"Who are you, O Vision?" she asked, and by way of answer there rose upwithin her a picture of herself, Barbara, leaning over a cot and lookingat the white face of a dead child in a certain room in London. Then sheknew that this was her daughter, and stretched out her arms towards herand received her in her arms.
Presently she looked again, and there around the bed appeared four othershapes of beauty.
"You have forgotten us, Barbara," said one of them, "but we are yoursisters who died in infancy."
For the third time she looked, and behold! kneeling at her side, just ashe had been found kneeling in the church, was her adored father, grownmore young. Once more she looked, and last of all, breathing ineffablelove, came her lost darling, Anthony himself.
From heart to heart flashed their swift thoughts, like lightnings fromcloud to cloud, till all her being was a very sea of joy. Now the greatroom was full of presences, and now the curtains were gone and all spacebeyond was full of presences, and from that glorious company of a suddenthere arose a song of welcome and beneath the burden of its sweetnessshe swooned to sleep.
Barbara dwelt in joy with those she loved and learned many things. Shelearned that this sweet new life of hers was what she had fashioned onthe earth with her prayers and strivings; that the seeds of love andsuffering sown down in the world's rank soil had here blossomed tothis perfect flower. Now she knew what was meant by the saying that thekingdom of Heaven is within you, and by the other saying that as mansows so shall he reap. She learned that in this world beyond the world,and that yet itself was but a rung in the ladder of many universes, upwhich ladder all souls must climb to the ultimate judgment, there wassorrow as well as bliss, there were both suffering and delight.
Here the sinful were brought face to face with the naked horror of theirsins, and from it fled wailing and aghast. Here the cruel, the covetous,the lustful and the liar were as creatures dragged from black cavernsof darkness into the burning light of day. These yearned back to theirdarkness and attained sometimes to other coverings of a mortal flesh, orto some land of which she had no knowledge. For such was their fate ifin them there was no spark of repentant spirit that in this new worldcould be fanned to flame.
Upwards or downwards, such is the law of the universe in which nothingcan stand still. Up from the earth which Barbara had left came thespirit shape of all that lived and could die, even to that of theflower. But down to the earth it seemed that much of it was whirledagain, to ascend once more in an age to come, since though the stream oflife pulses continually forward, it has its backwash and its eddies.
Barbara learned that though it is blessed to die young and sinless, liketo that glorious child of hers with whom she walked in this heavenlycreation, and whose task it was to instruct her in its simplermysteries, to live and to repent is yet more blessed. In this life orin that all have sinned, but not all have repented, and therefore, itappeared to Barbara, again and again such must know the burden of theflesh.
Also she saw many wonders and learned many secrets of that vast,spiritual universe into which this world of ours pours itself day byday. But if she remembers anything of these she cannot tell them.
Oh! happy was her life with Anthony, for there, though now sex as weknow it had ceased to be, spirit grew ever closer to spirit, and asbelow they dreamed and hoped, their union had indeed become an altar onwhich Love's perfect fire flamed an offering to Heaven. Happy, too, washer communion with those other souls that had been mingled in her lot,and with many more whom she had known aforetime and elsewhere and longforgotten. For Barbara learned that life is an ancient story of which wespell out the chapters one by one.
Yet amidst all this joy and all the blessed labours of a hallowed worldin which idleness was not known, nor any weariness in well-doing, acertain shadow met Barbara whichever way she turned.
"What is it?" asked Anthony, who felt her trouble.
&
nbsp; "Our son," she answered, and showed him all the tale, or so much of itas he did not know, ending, "And I chose to leave him that I might takemy chance of finding you. I died when I might have lived on if I had sowilled. That is my sin and it haunts me."
"We are not the parents of his soul, which is as ancient as our own,Barbara."
"No, but for a while it was given into my hand and I deserted it, andnow I am afraid. How can I tell what has chanced to the soul of thisson of ours? Here there is no time. I know not if I bade it farewellyesterday or ten thousand years ago. Long, long since it may have passedthrough this world, where it would seem we dwell only with those whom weseek or who seek us. Or it may abide upon the earth and there grow fouland hateful. Let us search out the truth, Anthony. There are those whocan open its gates to us if the aim be pure and good."
"After I died, Barbara, I strove to learn how things went with you, andstrove in vain."
"Not altogether, Anthony, for sometimes you were very near to me, or soI dreamed. Moreover, the case was different."
"Those who search sometimes find more than they seek, Barbara."
"Doubtless. Still, it is laid on me. Something drives me on."
So by the means appointed they sought to know the truth as to this sonof theirs, and it was decreed that the truth should be known to them.
In a dream, a vision, or perchance in truth--which they never knew--theywere drawn to the world that they had left, and the reek of its sins andmiseries pierced them like a spear.
They stood in the streets of London near to a certain fantastic gatewaythat was familiar to them, the gateway of "The Gardens." From withincame sounds of music and revelling, for the season was that of summer.A woman descended from a carriage. She was finely dressed, dark andhandsome. Barbara knew her at once for the girl Bess Catton, who alonecould control her son in his rages and whom she had dismissed for herbad conduct. She entered the place and they entered with her, althoughshe saw them not. Bess sat down, and presently a man whom she seemedto know drew out of the throng and spoke to her. He was a tall man ofmiddle age, with heavy eyes. Looking into his heart, they saw that itwas stained with evil. The soul within him lay asleep, wrapped roundwith the webs of sin. This man said:
"We are going to have a merry supper, Bess. Come and join us."
"I'd like to well enough," she answered, "for I'm tired of my grandlife; it's too respectable. But suppose that Anthony came along. He's mylawful spouse, you know. We had words and I told him where I was going."
"Oh, we'll risk your Anthony! Forget your marriage ring and have a tasteof the good old times."
"All right. I'm not afraid of Anthony, never was, but others are. Well,it's your look-out."
She went with the man to a pavilion where food was served, andaccompanied him to a room separated by curtains from the main hall. Ithad open windows which looked out on to the illuminated garden and thedancing. In this room, seated round a table, was a company of womengaudily dressed and painted, and with them were men. One of these wasa mere boy now being drawn into evil for the first time, and Barbaragrieved for him.
These welcomed the woman Bess and her companion noisily, and made roomfor them in seats near to the window. Then the meal began, a costly mealat which not much was eaten but a great deal was drunk. The revellersgrew excited with wine; they made jests and told doubtful stories.
Barbara's son Anthony entered unobserved and stood with his back againstthe curtains. He was a man now, tall, powerful, and in his way handsome,with hair of a chestnut red. Just then he who had brought Bess to thesupper threw his arm about her and kissed her, whereat she laughed andthe others laughed also.
Anthony sprang forward. The table was overthrown. He seized the man andshook him. Then he struck him in the face and hurled him through theopen window to the path below. For a few seconds the man lay there,then rose and ran till presently he vanished beneath the shadow of sometrees. There was tumult and confusion in the room; servants rushed in,and one of the men, he who seemed to be the host, talked with them andoffered them money. The woman Bess began to revile her husband.
He took her by the arm and said:
"Will you follow that fellow through the window, or will you come withme?"
Glancing at him, she saw something in his face that made her silent.Then they went away together.
The scene changed. Barbara knew that now she saw her Aunt Thompson'sLondon house. In that drawing-room where she had parted from Mr.Russell, her son and his wife stood face to face.
"How dare you?" she gasped through her set lips, glaring at him withfierce eyes.
"How dare _you?_" he answered. "Did I marry you for this? I have givenyou everything, my name, the wealth my old aunt left to me; you, you thepeasant's child, the evil woman whom I tried to lift up because I lovedyou from the first."
"Then you were a fool for your pains, for such as I can't be lifted up."
"And you," he went on, unheeding, "go back to your mire and the herd ofyour fellow-swine. You ask me how I dare. Go on with these ways, and Itell you I'll dare a good deal more before I've done. I'll be rid of youif I must break your neck and hang for it."
"You can't be rid of me. I'm your lawful wife, and you can prove nothingagainst me since I married. Do you think I want to be such a one as thatmother of yours, to have children and mope myself to the grave----"
"You'd best leave my mother out of it, or by the devil that made youI'll send you after her. Keep her name off your vile lips."
"Why should I? What good did she ever do you? She pretended to be sucha saint, but she hated you, and small wonder, seeing what you were. Whyshe even died to be rid of you. Oh, I know all about it, and you told meas much yourself. If my child is ever born I hope for your sake it willbe such another as you are, or as I am. You can take your choice," andwith a glare of hate she rushed from the room.
On a table near the fireplace stood spirits. The maddened husband wentto them, filled a tumbler half full with brandy, added a little waterand drank it off.
He poured more brandy into the glass and began to think. To Barbara hismind was as an open book and she read what was passing there. What shesaw were such thoughts as these: "My only comfort, and yet till withintwo years ago, whatever else I did, I never touched drink. I swore to mymother that I never would, and had she been alive to-day----. But Bessalways liked her glass, and drinking alone is no company. Ah! if mymother had lived everything would have been different, for I outgrew thebad fit and might have become quite a decent fellow. But then I met Bessagain by chance, and she had the old hold on me, and there was none tokeep me back, and she knew how to play her fish until I married her. Theold aunt never found it out. If she had I shouldn't have 8,000 pounds ayear to-day. I lied to her about that, and I wonder what she thinksof me now, if she can think where she is gone. I wonder what my motherthinks also, and my father, who was a good man by all accounts, thoughnobody seems to remember much about him. Supposing that they could seeme now, supposing that they could have been at that supper party andwitnessed the conjugal interview between me and the female creature whois my legal wife, what would they think? Well, they are dead and can't,for the dead don't come back. The dead are just a few double handfuls ofdirt, no more, and since no doubt I shall join them before very long, Ithank God for it, or rather I would if there were a God to thank. Here'sto the company of the Dead who will never hear or see or feel anythingmore from everlasting to everlasting. Amen."
Then he drank off the second half tumbler of brandy, hid his face in hishands and began to sob, muttering:
"Mother, why did you leave me? Oh, mother, come back to me, mother, andsave my soul from hell!"
Barbara and Anthony awoke from their dream of the dreadful earth andlooked into each other's hearts.
"It is true," said their hearts, which could not lie, and with thosewords all the glory of their state faded to a grey nothingness.
"You have seen and heard," said Barbara. "It was my sin which hasbrought this misery on our
son, who, had I lived on, might have beensaved. Now through me he is lost, who step by step of his own will musttravel downwards to the last depth, and thence, perhaps, never be raisedagain. This is the thing that I have done, yes, I whom blind judges inthe world held to be good."
"I have seen and heard," he answered, "and joy has departed from me. Yetwhat wrong have you worked, who did not know?"
"Come, my father," called Barbara to that spirit who in the flesh hadbeen named Septimus Walrond, "come, you who are holy, and pray thatlight may be given to us."
So he came and prayed and from the Heavens above fell a vision in answerto his prayer. The vision was that of the fate of the soul of the son ofAnthony and Barbara through a thousand, thousand ages that were to come,and it was a dreadful fate.
"Pray again, my father," said Barbara, "and ask if it may be changed."
So the spirit of Septimus Walrond prayed, and the spirits of hisdaughters and of the daughter of Anthony and Barbara prayed with him.Together they kneeled and prayed to the Glory that shone above.
There came another vision, that of a little child leading a man by thehand, and the child was Barbara and the man was he who had been her son.By a long and difficult path--upwards, ever upwards--she led him, andthe end of that path was not seen.