the captives-第32部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


ears　she　always　looked　back　on　the　pale；　thin；　highly…strung　Miss　Avies　as　the　motive　of　most　of　the　events　that　followed　this　particular　evening。　It　was　as　though　she　felt　that　Miss　Avies'　weight；　not　enough　in　itself　to　effect　any　result；　when　thrown　into　the　balance　just　turned　everything　in　one　direction。　It　had　that　result；　at　any　rate；　upon　Maggie　herself。

She　soon　lost；　however；　consideration　of　Miss　Avies　in　the　wider　observation　of　the　Chapel　and　its　congregation。　It　was；　as　it　had　been　on　the　occasion　of　her　first　visit　to　it；　stuffy；　smelling　of　gas　and　brick　and　painted　wood；　ugly　in　its　bareness　and　unresponsivenessand；　nevertheless；　exciting。　The　interior　of　the　building　had　the　air　of　one　who　has　watched　some　most　unusual　happenings　and　expects　very　shortly　to　watch　them　again。　Even　the　harmonium　seemed　to　prick　up　its　wooden　ears　in　anticipation。　And　to…night　the　congregation　thrilled　also　with　breathless　expectation。　As　Maggie　looked　round　upon　them　she　could　see　that　they　were　throbbing　with　the　anticipation　of　some　almost　sensuous　delight。　By　now　they　had　filled　the　Chapel　to　its　utmost　limits；　but　there　was　not　one　human　being　there　who　did　not　seem　to　have　the　appearance　of　having　been　especially　selected　from　other　less　interesting　human　beings。　It　was　not　that　the　forces　that　surrounded　her　were　especially　interesting；　but　she　felt　that　all　of　them　had　taken　on　some　especial　dramatic　character　from　the　occasion。　Such　personalities　as　Aunt　Anne　and　Miss　Avies　were　in　any　case　vivid　and　dramatic；　but　to…night　Aunt　Elizabeth　and　the　placidly　rotund　Mrs。　Smith；　who　was　sitting　in　the　front　row　with　her　mouth　open；　and　simple　little　Miss　Pyncheon；　Aunt　Anne's　friend；　were　remarkable　and　exceptional。

Then　suddenly　Maggie　caught　sight　of　Martin。　He　was　sitting　in　the　extreme　right　next　the　wall；　his　ill…tempered　sister　was　next　to　him。　Maggie　could　only　see　his　head　and　shoulders；　but　she　realised　at　once　that　he　had　been；　for　a　long　time；　trying　to　catch　her　eye。　He　smiled　at　her　an　intimate　peculiar　smile　that　sent　the　blood　flooding　to　her　face　and　made　her　heart　beat　with　happiness。　At　the　moment　of　her　smiling　she　realised　that　Miss　Avies'　dim　eye　was　upon　her。　What　right　had　Miss　Avies　to　watch　over　her？　She　set　back　her　shoulders；　sat　up　stiffly；　and　tried　to　look　as　old　as　she　might　that　was　not；　unhappily；　very　old。　That　smile　exchanged　with　Martin　had　made　her　happy　for　ever。　Miss　Avies　was　of　less　than　no　importance　at　all　。　。　。

The　little　bell　ceased　its　jangling；　the　harmonium　began　a　quavering　prelude；　and　from　a　door　at　the　back；　behind　the　little　platform　and　desk；　three　men　entered：　first　Mr。　Thurston；　then　a　little　crooked　man　who　must；　Maggie　knew；　be　Mr。　Crashaw；　finally；　in　magnificent　contrast；　Mr。　Warlock。　A　quiver　of　emotion　passed　over　the　Chapel　there　was　then　a　hushed　expectant　pause。

〃Brothers　and　sisters；　let　us　pray；〃　said　Mr。　Thurston。

Maggie　had　not　seen　him　before；　she　wondered　what　strange　chance　had　led　him　and　Mr。　Warlock　to　work　together。　In　every　movement　of　the　body；　in　every　tone　of　the　voice；　Thurston　showed　the　professional　actorhis　thoughts　were　all　upon　himself　and　the　effect　that　he　was　making。　So　calculated　was　he　in　his　attitude　that　his　eyes　betrayed　him；　having　in　their　gleam　other　thoughts；　other　intentions　very　far　away　from　his　immediate　business　in　the　Chapel。　Maggie；　watching　him；　wondered　what　those　thoughts　were。　His　voice　was　ugly；　as　were　all　his　movements；　his　sharp　actor's　face；　with　the　long　rather　dirty　black　hair；　the　hooked　nose；　the　long　dirty　fingers　which　moved　in　and　out　as　though　they　worked　of　themselvesall　these　things　were　false　and　unmoving。　But　behind　his　harsh　voice；　gross　accent　and　melodramatic　tone　there　was　some　power；　the　power　of　a　man　ambitious；　ruthless；　scornful；　self…confident。　He　did　not　care　a　snap　of　his　fingers　for　his　congregation；　he　laughed　at　their　beliefs；　he　made　use　of　their　credulity。

〃Oh　God；〃　he　prayed；　his　voice　now　shrill　and　quivering　and　just　out　of　tune；　so　that　it　jarred　every　nerve　in　Maggie's　body；　〃Thou　seest　what　we　are；　miserable　sinners　not　worthy　of　Thy　care　or　goodness；　sunk　deep　in　the　mire　of　evil　living　and　evil　'abits；　nevertheless；　oh　God；　we；　knowing　Thy　loving　'eart　towards　Thy　sinful　servants；　do　pray　Thee　that　Thou　wilt　give　us　Thy　blessing　before　we　leave　this　Thy　'ouse　this　night；　a　new　contrite　'eart　is　what　we　beg　of　Thee；　that　we　may　go　out　into　this　evil　world　taught　by　Thee　to　search　out　our　ways　and　improve　our　thoughts；　caring　for　nothing　but　Thee；　following　in　Thy　footsteps　and　making　ready　for　Thy　immediate　Coming；　which　will　be　in　Thine　own　good　time　and　according　to　Thy　will。〃

〃This　we　pray　for　the　sake　of　Thy　dear　Son；　our　Lord　Jesus　Christ；　who　died　for　our　sins　upon　the　bloody　Cross。〃

〃Amen。〃

From　between　her　hands　Maggie　watched　those　two　strange　eyes　wandering　about　the　Chapel；　picking　up　here　a　person；　there　a　person；　wondering　over　this；　wondering　over　that；　and　always；　in　the　end；　concerned　not　about　these　things　at　all　but　about　some　other　more　ultimate　loneliness；　fear　or　expectation；　something　that　set　him　apart　and　made　him；　as　are　all　men　in　the　final　recesses　of　their　spirit；　as　lonely　as　though　he　were　by　himself　on　a　desert　island。

The　thrill　of　anticipation　faded　through　the　Chapel　as　Thurston　continued　his　prayer。　He　had　not　to…night；　at　any　rate；　power　over　his　audiencethe　thing　that　they　were　waiting　for　was　something　that　he　could　not　satisfy。　A　restlessness　was　abroad；　coughing　broke　out　once；　twice；　then　everywhere；　chairs　creaked；　sighs　could　be　heard；　some　one　moved　to　the　door。　Thurston　seemed　to　realise　his　failure；　with　a　sudden　snap　of　impatience　he　brought　prayer　to　an　end　and　rose　to　his　feet。

〃We　will　sing；〃　he　said；　〃No。　341。　'Bathed　in　the　blood　of　the　Lamb。'〃

The　singing　of　the　hymn　roused　the　excitement　of　the　congregation　to　even　more　than　its　earlier　pitch。　The　tune　was　a　moving　one；　beginning　very　softly；　beseeching　God　to　listen；　then；　more　confident；　rising　to　a　high　note　of　appeal：

By　all　Thy　sores　and　bloody　pain　Come　down　and　heal　our　sins　again；

falling；　after　that；　to　a　note　of　confidence　and　security　in　the　last　refrain：

By　the　blood；　by　the　blood；　by　the　blood　of　the　Lamb　We　beseech　Thee

In　spite　of　the　crudity　of　the　words　and　the　simplicity　of　the　tune　Maggie　had　tears　in　her　eyes。　The　whole　Chapel　was　singing　now；　singing　as　though　the　sins　of　the　world　could　be　redeemed　only　by　the　force　and　power　of　this　especial　moment。　Maggie　was　caught　up　with　the　rest。　She　found　herself　singing　parts　of　the　second　verse；　then　in　the　third　she　was　carried　away；　had　forgotten　herself；　her　surroundings；　even　Martin。　There　was　something　real　in　this；　something　beyond　the　ugliness　of　the　Chapel　and　its　congregation。　She　remembered　what　Mr。　Magnus　had　said：　〃If　there's　something　of　great　value；　don't　think　the　less　of　it　because　the　people；　including　yourself；　who　admire　it；　aren't　worth　very　much。　Why　should　they　be？〃

She　looked　for　a　moment　at　Aunt　Anne　and　saw　her　in　an　ecstasy；　singing　in　her　cracked　tuneless　voice；　a　smile　about　her　lips　and　in　her　eyes；　that　gazed　far；　far　beyond　that　Chapel。　Maggie　felt　the　approach　of　tears；　she　stopped　singingsoftly　the　refrain　of　the　last　verse　came：

By　the　blood；　by　the　blood；　by　the　blood　of　the　Lamb　We　beseech　Thee！

The　hymn　over；　Mr。　Warlock　read　the　Bible　and　then　offered　up　a　long　extempore　prayer。　Strangely　enough　Mr。　Warlock　brought　Maggie　back　to　realitystrangely　because；　on　an　earlier　occasion；　he　had　done　exactly　the　opposite。　She　realised　at　once　that　he　was　not　happy　to…　night。　Before；　he　had　been　himself　caught　up　into　the　mood　that　held　the　Chapel；　to…night　he　was　fighting　against　a　mood　that　was　then　outside　him；　a　mood　with　which　he　did　not　sympathise　and　in　which　he　could　not　believe。

She　saw　that　he　was　unhappy；　he　spoke　slowly；　without　the　spontaneity　and　force　that　he　had　used　before；　once　he　made　a　long　pause　and　you　could　feel　throughout　the　Chapel　a　wave　of　nervous　apprehension；　as　though　every　one　were　waiting　to　see　whether　he　would　fight　his　way　through　or　not。　Maggie　felt　her　earlier　emotion　sentimental　and　false；　it　was　as　though　he　had　said　to　her：　〃But　that's　not　the　true　thing；　that's　cheap　sham　emotion。　That's　what　they're　trying　to　turn　our　great　reality　into。　I'm　fighting　them　and　you　must　help　me。〃

He　was　fighting　them。　She　could　imagine　Mr。　Thurston's　scornful　lip；　hidden　now　by　his　hands。　As　Mr。　Warlock　went　on　with　his　dignified　sentences；　his　restraint　and　his　reverence；　she　could　fancy　how　Thurston　was　saying　to　himself：　〃But　what's　the　good　of　this？　It's　blood　and　thunder　we　want。　The　old　feller's　getting　past　his　work。　He　must　go。〃

But　it　was　Mr。　Warlock's　reality　of　which　she　was　afraid。　As　he　continued　his　prayer　she　felt　all　her　old　terror　return；　that　terror　that　she　had　known　on　the　night　her　father　died；　during　the　hours　that　she　had　watched　beside　his　dead　body；　at　the　moment　when　she　had　first　arrived　at　the　house　in　London；　during　her　first　visit　to　the　Chapel；　when　she　had　said　good…night　to　her　aunt　before　going　out　with　Uncle　Mathew　。　。　。　And　now　Mr。　Warlock　was　sweeping　her　still　farther　inside。　The　intensity　of　his　belief　forced　hers。　There　was　something　real　in　this　power　of　God；　and　you　could　not　finish　with　it　simply　by　disregarding　it。　She　felt；　as　she　had　felt　so　often　lately；　that　some　one　was　suddenly　going　to　rise　and　demand　some　oath　or　promise　from　her　that　she；　in　her　panic；　would　give　her　word　and　then　would　be　caught　for　ever。

〃By　the　love　of　Thy　dear　Son；　Our　Lord　Jesus　Christ；　and　by　the　promise　of　Thy　second　coming；　we　beseech　Thee〃　。　。　。　finished　Mr。　Warlock。

During　all　this　time　the　atmosphere　of　the　Chapel　had　been　growing　hotter　and　hotter　and　closer　and　closer。　It　had　always　its　air　of　being　buried　deep　under　ground；　bathed　in　a　kind　of　sunken　heat　that　found　its　voice　in　the　gas　that　hissed　and　sizzled　overhead；　near　the　door　was　a　long　rail　on　which　coats　might　be　hung；　and　now　these　garments　could　be　seen；　swaying　a　little　to　and　fro；　like　corpses　of　condemned　men。

The　bare　ugliness　of　the　building　with　its　stone　walls；　its　rows　of　wooden　seats；　its　grey　windows；　i