The boards were smoking faintly. If I didn't act quickly the house would
catch fire ... I laughed at the thought of the curious climax it would
present to the world; I imagined myself among the embers.
I must lessen the heat in the stove. I ran and brought in a bucket of
water. I pried open the red-hot door of the stove with a stick that
almost caught flame as I pried.
With a backward withdrawal, a forward heave, I shot the contents of the
pail into the stove....
There followed a detonation like a siege gun.
The stove-lid shot so close to my head it was no joke ... it took out
the whole window-sash and lit in the outside snow. The stove itself,
balanced on bricks under its four feet, slumped sidewise, fortunately
did not collapse to the floor ... the stovepipe fell, but the wire that
held it up at the bend also prevented it from touching the carpet ...
the room was instantly full of suffocating soot and smoke.
I crawled forth like a scared animal ... found myself in the kitchen. In
the mirror hanging there I looked like a Senegalese.
Then, finding myself unhurt, I laughed and laughed at myself, at the
grotesqueness and irony of life, at everything ... but mostly at myself.
I righted the stove as best I could, brought the door in again from
where it had bitten to the bottom of the snow drift, like an angry
animal. It was still uncomfortably hot ... shifting it from hand to hand
I managed to manoeuvre it back to a slant position on its hinges....
Before I could light another and more moderate fire, unexpectedly the
inspiration for the completion of the last scene of _Judas_--the
inspiration for which I had been waiting and hoping--rode in on me like
a wave....
* * * * *
Christ, in the spirit, unseen, comes to his waiting disciples.
_Thomas_. Someone has flung open the door. The wind has blown out the
candles.
_Andrew_. Nay, I sit next the door. 'Tis closed!
_John_. He has risen. He is even now among us.
_Thomas_. Someone sits in the chair. I feel a presence by my side.
_Peter_. Brethren, 'tis the Comforter of which He spake! [_A misty light
fills the room_.]
_John_. Ah, 'tis He! 'tis He! He is with us. He has not forsaken us.
Verily, He has risen from the dead into a larger life than ever! Dear
Lord, Beloved Shepherd of Souls, is it Thou?
_Thomas_. I believe, I believe! It is past speech! Thy Kingdom comes as
I dreamed, but dared not believe!
_John_. He lives, He lives--the very Son of God!
Behold the Kingdom that He promised us;
'Tis no vain dream, 'tis everlasting truth!
He shall bind all the nations into one,
The love of him shall flood the world!
He shall conquer with love and gentleness, and not with the sword.
He shall live again in every heart that loves its fellow men.
Peace he will plant where discord grew before.
He will save and heal the souls of men forever and forever.
Ah, dear Master, forgive us, we beseech Thee,
For deeming Thou hadst ever died.
* * * * *
And so, having nearly burnt a house down, and perhaps myself with it, I
had written "finis" to my four-act play called _Judas_.
* * * * *
Hildreth and I had written faithfully to each other twice a day ... the
absurd, foolish, improper letters that lovers exchange ... I wrote most
of my letters in the cave-language that we had invented between us....
And we marked all the interspaces with secret symbols that meant
intimate caresses ... kisses ... everything....
The play brought to a successful end, I realised that for one day no
letters had come from Hildreth. And the next none came ... and the
next....
I besieged the post office five and six times a day in a panic, till the
postmaster first pitied me, then grew a bit put out....
A week, and not a single letter from the woman I loved....
The day before, Mrs. Suydam and her plumber affinity, for whom I felt
myself and Hildreth and Penton largely responsible, in the example we
had set--the day before these two young people had committed suicide.
As I walked about the cottage, alone, I had the uncanny feeling that the
place was haunted ... that maybe the ghosts of these two poor children
who had imitated us were down there haunting me ... why had not Hildreth
and I written that joint letter to them as I had suggested!
--only a little thing, but it might have given them courage to go
on!....
* * * * *