"The Prince of this World is all-powerful. The maleficent spirit is
with us always, and evil has fallen upon me, and upon my work."
"No, no!" I cried quickly. "You talk too hopelessly, my dear old chap.
You're upset to-night. To-morrow, after a rest, you'll be quite fit
again. You've excited yourself in your sermon, and this is the
reaction."
He shrugged his shoulders, and together we left the church. I walked
with him across to his lodgings in a poorish-looking house in Liverpool
Street, facing the disused burial-ground. He had not entered upon
residence at the vicarage, for, as he explained to me, his wants were
few, and he preferred furnished apartments to the worries of an
establishment of his own. As I entered the small, rather close-smelling
house, I could not help contrasting it with Mrs Walker's clean, homely
cottage in Duddington, where the ivy covered the porch, and the
hollyhocks grew so tall in the little front garden. He took me into his
shabby little sitting-room, the window of which overlooked the
churchyard, and I saw how terribly dreary was his abode.
I remarked that the place was scarcely so open and healthy as at
Duddington, but as he sank into his chair exhausted, he answered
simply--
"My work lies here among the poor, and it is my duty to live among them.
Many men in London live away from their parishes because the locality
happens to be a working-class one, but such men can never carry on their
work well. To know the people, to obtain their confidence, and to be
able to assist them, one must live among them, however dismal is the
life, however dreary the constant outlook of bricks and mortar."
With this theory I was compelled to agree. Surely this man must be
devout and God-fearing if he could give up the world, as he had done, to
devote himself to the poor in such a locality, and live the dismal life
of the people among whom his work lay.
Yet in his acquaintanceship with Aline there was some strange mystery.
His hiding from her, and her clandestine visit to Duddington, were
sufficient in themselves to show that their friendship had been
strained, and his words, whenever he had spoken of her, were as though
he held her in fear. Mystery surrounded her on every side.
I sat with my friend for a long time smoking with him in that dingy,
cheerless room. Once only he referred to the curious phenomenon which
had occurred in the church, and noticing that I had no desire to discuss
it, he dropped the subject. He was enthusiastic over his work, telling
me sad stories of the poverty existing there on every side, and
lamenting that while London gave liberally to Mansion House Funds for
the relief of foreigners, it gave so little to the deserving poor at
home.
Suddenly, glancing at the clock, he rose, saying that he had a visit to
make.
"It's late," I exclaimed, seeing that it was after ten o'clock.
"Not too late to do my duty," he answered.
Then we passed out, and in silence threaded our way back through the
narrow alleys until we gained the Walworth Road, where we parted, after
I had promised to call soon and see him again.
When he had left me, I turned once to look after him. His tall,
athletic figure was disappearing in the darkness of the slums. Truly
this man, who had been my old college chum, was a devoted servant of the
Master.
Several days went by, during which I reflected a good deal upon the
strange occurrence at St Peter's, and the promise made me by Aline.
Would Muriel return to me? Was the influence possessed by the Woman of
Evil sufficient to cause her to abandon her newly-found lover and crave
my forgiveness?
She had told me to possess myself in patience, and I, in obedience to
her command, neither sought Muriel or wrote to her.
A week passed. It was Saturday evening. I had been dining early over
at the club, and on entering my chambers with my latch-key about eight
o'clock, having returned there before dropping in at the Alhambra, I
perceived through the crack of the half-open door that some one was in
my sitting-room.