第25章
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  Jeremylistened,andgraduallytheregrewbeforehiseyesthefigureofastrangeandterribleGod。Thiswasnonewfigure。HehadneverthoughtdirectlyaboutGod,butforaverylongtimenowhehadhadHiminthebackgroundofhislifeasPolchesterTownHallwasinthebackground。ButnowhedefinitelyandactivelyfiguredtohimselfthisGod,thisGodWhowastakinghismotherawayandwasintendingapparentlytoputherintosomedarkplacewhereshewouldknownobody。Itmustbesomehorribleplace,becausehisfatherlookedsofrightened,whichhewouldnotlookifhismotherwassimplygoing,withagoldenharp,tosinghymns。JeremyhadalwaysheardthatthisGodwaslovingandkindandtender,butthefigurewhomhisfatherwasnowdrawingforthebenefitofthecongregationwasnoneofthesethings。

  Mr。ColespokeofaGodjustandterrible,butaGodWhoapparentlyforthemerestfancyputHisfaithfulservanttoterribleanguishanddistress,andthenforanotherfancy,aslightasthefirst,sparedhimhissorrow。Mr。Coleemphasisedthenecessityforobedience,theneedforawillingsurrenderofanythingthatmaybedeartous,“becausetheloveofGodmustbegreaterthananythingthatholdsushereonearth。“ButJeremydidnotlistentotheseremarks;hismindwasfilledwiththispictureofavastshadowyfigure,seatedinthesky,hiswhitebeardflowingbeneatheyesthatfrownedfromdarkrockyeyebrowsoutuponpeoplelikeJeremywho,althoughdoingtheirbest,wereneverthelessatthemercyofanywhimthatHemighthave。Thisterriblefigurewastheauthorofthehotday,authorofthesilenthouseandtheshimmeringdarkenedchurch,authorofthedecisiontotakehismotherawayfromallthatshelovedandputhersomewherewhereshewouldbealoneandcoldandsilent——“simplybecauseHewishes……“

  “Fromthisbeautifulpassage,“concludedMr。Cole,“welearnthatGodisjustandmerciful,butthatHedemandsourobedience。Wemustbereadyatanyinstanttogiveupwhatwelovemostandbest……“

  Afterwardstheyalltroopedoutintothesplendidsunshine。

  IV

  TherewasahorribleSundaydinnerwhen——thesilenceandtheroastbeefandYorkshirepudding,andthedining-roomquiveringwithheat,emphasisedeveryminuteofthesolemntickingclock——Marysuddenlyburstintotears,chokedoveraglassofwater,andwasledfromtheroom。Jeremyatehisbeefandricepuddinginsilence,exceptthatonceortwiceinalow,hoarsevoicewhispered:“Passthemustard,please,“or“Passthesalt,please。“MissJones,watchinghiswhitefaceandthetrembleofhisupperlip,longedtosaysomethingtocomforthim,butwiselyheldherpeace。

  AfterdinnerJeremycollectedHamletandwenttotheconservatory。

  This,likesomanyotherEnglishconservatories,wasadesolateanddesperatelittleplace,whereboxesofsand,drycorded-lookingbulbs,andanunhappyplantortwolanguished,forgottenandforlorn。Ithadbeeninheritedwiththehousemanyyearsago,and,atfirst,theColeshadhadtheambitiontomakeitblazewithcolour,togrowtherethemostmarvellousgrapes,therichesttomatoes,andeven——althoughitwasalittleoutofplaceinthehouseofaclergymanoftheChurchofEngland——themostsinisteroforchids。Veryquicklythelittleconservatoryhadbeenabandoned;

  theheatingapparatushadfailed,theplantshadrefusedtogrow,thetomatoesneverappeared,thebulbswouldnotburstintocolour。

  ForJeremytheplacehadhadalwaysanindescribablefascination。

  Whenhewasveryyoungtherehadbeenabsolutetrustthatthingswouldgrow;thateverykindofwondermightspringbeforeone’seyesatanymomentoftheday。Then,whennowondercame,therehadbeenthethrilloftheemptyboxesofearth;theprobingwithone’sfingerstoseewhatthefunny-lookingbulbswouldbe,andwatchingthefrondsofthepalevine。Afterwards,therewasanotherfascination——thefascinationofsomestrangeandsinisteratmospherethathewasmuchtooyoungtodefine。Theplace,heknew,wasdifferentfromtherestofthehouse。Itprojected,conventionallyenough,fromthedrawing-room;buttheheavydoorwiththickwindowsofredglassshutitofffromthewholeworld。ItsratherdirtyandobscurewindowslookedoverthesamecountrythatJeremy’sbedroomwindowcommanded。Italsocaughtallthesun,sothatinthesummeritwasterriblyhot。ButJeremylovedtheheat。HewasdiscoveredoncebythescandalisedJampotquitenakeddancingonthewoodenboards,hisfaceandhandsblackwithgrime。Noonecouldeverunderstand“whathesawinthedirtyplace,“andatonetimehehadbeenforbiddentogothere。Thenhehadcriedandstampedandshouted,sothathehadbeenallowedtoreturn。Amongstthethingsthathesawtherewerethereflectionsthattheoutsideworldmadeupontheglass;itwouldbestained,sometimes,withastrange,greenreflectionofthefieldsbeyondthewall;sometimesitwouldcatchtheblueofthesky,ortheredandgoldofthesettingsun;

  sometimesitwouldbegreywithwavingshadowsacrossitssurface,asthoughonewereunderwater。Throughthedirtywindowsthecountry,onfinedays,shonelikedistanttapestry,andintheglassthatcoveredthefarthersideoftheplacestrangereflectionswerecaught:ofcows,horses,walls,andtrees——asthoughinakindofmagicmirror。

  AnotherthingthatJeremyfeltthere,wasthathewasinaglasscageswingingoverthewholeworld。Ifoneshutone’seyesonecouldeasilyfancythatonewasswingingout——swinging——swinging,andthat,suddenlyperhaps,thecagewouldbedetachedfromthehouseandgosailing,likeamagiccarpet,toArabiaandPersia,andanywhereyoupleasedtocommand。

  To-daytheglassburntlikefire,andthegreenfieldscamefloatinguptobotransfiguredtherelikerunningwater。Thehousewasutterlystill;theredglassdoorshutofftheworld。Jeremysat,hisarmstightlyroundHamlet’sneck,onthedirtyfloor,astrangemixtureofmisery,weariness,fright,andanger。Therewasalreadyinhimastrainofimpatience,sothathecouldnotbearsimplytositdownandbewailsomethingas,forinstance,bothhissistersweredoingatthismoment。Hemustact。Theycouldnotbohappywithouttheirmother;hehimselfwantedhersobadlythatevennow,thereintheflamingconservatory,ifhehadallowedhimselftodosuchathing,hewouldhavesatandcriedandcriedandcried。Buthewasnotgoingtocry。MaryandHelencouldcry——theyweregirls;

  hewasgoingtodosomething。

  Ashesatthere,gettinghotterandhotter,theregrew,largerandlargerbeforehiseyes,thefigureofTerribleGod。ThatimageofSomeoneofavastsizesittinginthered-hotsky,hiswhitebeardflowing,hiseyesfrowning,grewevermoreandmoreawful。Jeremystaredupintotheglass,hiseyesblinking,thesweatbeginningtopourdownhisnose,andyethisbodyshiveringwithterror。ButhehadstrunghimselfuptomeetHim。Somehowhewasgoingtosavehismotherandhinderherdeparture。Ataninstant,insidehim,hewascrying:“Iwantmymother!Iwantmymother!“likealittleboywhohadbeenleftinthestreet,andattheother,“Youshan’thaveher!

  Youshan’thaveher!“asthoughsomeoneweretryingtostealhisToy-VillageorHamletawayfromhim。Hissleepy,bemused,heatedbrainwandered,indazedfashion,backtohisfather’ssermonofthatmorning。AbrahamandIsaac!AbrahamandIsaac!

  AbrahamandIsaac!Suddenly,asthoughthroughtheflamingglasssomethinghadbeenflungtohim,anideacame。PerhapsGod,thathuge,uglyGodwasteasingtheColesjustasonceHehadteasedAbraham。PerhapsHewishedtoseewhethertheyweretrulyobedientastheJampothadsometimeswishedintheolddays。Hewasonly,itmightbe,pretending。PerhapsHewasdemandingthatoneofthemshouldgiveupsomething——somethingofgreatvalue。EvenJeremy,himself!……

  Ifhehadtosacrificesomethingtosavehismother,whatwouldbethehardestsacrifice?WoulditbehisToy-Village,orMaryorHelen,orhissoldiers,orhispaint-box,orhisgoldfishthathehadinabowl,or——No,ofcourse,hehadknownfromthefirstwhatwouldbehardest——itwould,ofcourse,beHamlet。

  AtthisstageinhisthinkingheremovedhisarmfromHamlet’sneckandlookedattheanimal。Atthesamemomentthelightthathadfilledtheglass-housewithafieryradiancethatburnttotheveryheartoftheplacewasclouded。Above,inthesky,black,smokyclouds,rollinginfoldafterfold,asthoughsomedemonwereflingingthemoutacrosstheskyasoneflingsacarpet,piledupandup,eachonedarkerthanthelast。Thelightvanished;theconservatorywasfilledwithathick,murkyglow,andfaracrossthefields,fromtheheartoftheblackwood,camethelowrumbleofthunder。ButJeremydidnothearthat;hewasbusywithhisthoughts。liestaredatthedog,whowaslyingstretchedoutonthedirtyfloor,hisnosebetweenhistoes。ItcannottruthfullybesaidthattheresolvethatwasforminginJeremy’sheadhaditsbirthinanyfine,nobleidealisms。Itwasasthoughsomebully,seizinghisbestmarbles,hadsaid:“I’llgiveyouthesebackifyouhandoverthisweek’spocket-money!“Hisattitudetothebullycouldnottruthfullybedescribedasoneofhomageorreverence;ratherwasitoneofangerandimpotentrebellion。

  HelovedHamlet,andhelovedhismothermorethanHamlet;buthewasnotmovedbysentiment。Grimly,hislegsapart,hiseyesshuttight,astheywerewhenhesaidhisprayers,hemadehischallenge。

  “I’llgiveyouHamletifyoudon’ttakeMother——“Apause。“OnlyI

  can’tcutHamlet’sthroat。ButIcouldlosehim,ifthatwoulddo……Onlyyoumusttakehimnow——Icouldn’tdoitto-morrow。“Hisvoicebegantotremble。Hewasfrightened。Hecouldfeelbehindhisclosedeyesthatthedarknesshadgathered。Theplaceseemedtobefilledwithrollingsmoke,andthehousewassoterriblystill!

  Hesaidagain:“YoucantakeHamlet。He’smybestthing。Youcan——

  Youcan——“

  Therefollowedthen,withthepromptitudeofamostadmirablymanagedtheatricalclimax,apealofthunderthatseemedtostrikethehousewiththeironhandofagiant。Twomorecame,andthen,forasecond,asilence,moredeadlythanalltheearlierhavoc。

  JeremyfeltthatGodhadleaptuponhim。Heopenedhiseyes,turnedasthoughtorun,andthensaw,withafreezingcheckupontheverybeatofhisheart,thatHamletwasgone。

  V

  TherewasnoHamlet!

  InthatsecondoffranticunreasoningterrorhereceivedaconvictionofGodthatnorationalistictraininginlateryearswasabletoremove。

  TherewasnoHamlet!——onlytheduskydirtyplacewithablacktorrent-drivenworldbeyondit。Witharushasofathousandwhipsslashingtheair,theraincamedownupontheglass。Jeremyturned,crying“Mother!Mother!IwantMother!“andflunghimselfattheredglassdoors;fumblinginhisterrorforthehandle,hefeltasthoughtheendoftheworldhadcome;suchapanichadseizedhimasonlybelongstothemostdesperateofnightmares。Godhadansweredhim。HamletwasgoneandinamomentJeremyhimselfmightbeseized……

  Hefeltfranticallyforthedoor;hebeatupontheglass。

  Hecried“Mother!Mother!Mother!“

  Hehadfoundthedoor,butjustasheturnedthehandlehewasawareofanewsound,hearddistantly,throughtherain。Lookingbackhesaw,frombehindarampartofdustyflower-pots,firstahead,thenaroughtousledbody,thenatailthatmightberecognisedamongstallthetailsofChristendom。

  Hamletwhohadtrainedhimselftomeetwithafinenaturalshowofbraveryeverypossibleviolencesaveonlythundercreptashamed,dirtyandsmilingtowardshismaster。GodhadonlyplayedHistrick——

  AbrahamandIsaacafterall。

  ThenwithafinesenseofvictoryanddefianceJeremyturnedback,lookedupattheslashingrain,gazedoutupontheblackcountry,atlastseizedHamletanddragginghimoutbyhishind-legs,kneltthereinthedustandsufferedhimselftobelickeduntilhisfacewasasthoughasnailhadcrossedoverit。

  Thethunderpassed。Bluepushedupintothegrey。Acoolairblewthroughtheworld。

  Nevertheless,deepinhisheart,theterrorremained。InthatmomenthehadmetGodfacetoface;hehaddeliveredhisfirstchallenge。

  P。S——TotheincredulousandcynicalofheartauthoritativeevidencecanbeshowntoprovethatitwasontheeveningofthatSundaythatMrs。Coleturnedthecornertowardsrecovery。

  CHAPTERVIII

  TOCOWFARM!

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