She had thought a great deal of Felsenburgh, however, and was astonished
at her own feelings. He was certainly the most impressive man she had
ever seen; it did seem very probable indeed that He was what He claimed
to be--the Incarnation of the ideal Man the first perfect product of
humanity. But the logic of his position was too much for her. She saw
now that He was perfectly logical--that He had not been inconsistent in
denouncing the destruction of Rome and a week later making His
declaration. It was the passion of one man against another that He
denounced--of kingdom against kingdom, and sect against sect--for this
was suicidal for the race. He denounced passion, too, not judicial
action. Therefore, this new decree was as logical as Himself--it was a
judicial act on the part of an united world against a tiny majority that
threatened the principle of life and faith: and it was to be carried out
with supreme mercy; there was no revenge or passion or partisan spirit
in it from beginning to end; no more than a man is revengeful or
passionate when he amputates a diseased limb--Oliver had convinced her
of that.
Yes, it was logical and sound. And it was because it was so that she
could not bear it.... But ah! what a sublime man Felsenburgh was; it was
a joy to her even to recall his speeches and his personality. She would
have liked to see him again. But it was no good. She had better be done
with it as tranquilly as possible. And the world must go forward without
her. She was just tired out with Facts.
* * * * *
She dozed off again presently, and it seemed scarcely five minutes
before she looked up to see a gentle smiling face of a white-capped
nurse bending over her.
“It is nearly six o’clock, my dear--the time you told me. I came to see
about breakfast.”
Mabel drew a long breath. Then she sat up suddenly, throwing back the
sheet.
II
It struck a quarter-past six from the little clock on the mantel-shelf
as she laid down her pen. Then she took up the closely written sheets,
leaned back in her deep chair, and began to read.
“HOME OF REST,
“NO 3A MANCHESTER WEST.
“MY DEAR: I am very sorry, but it has come back to me. I really cannot
go on any longer, so I am going to escape in the only way left, as I
once told you. I have had a very quiet and happy time here; they have
been most kind and considerate. You see, of course, from the heading on
this paper, what I mean....
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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