The Mark of the Beast Part 19

Unconsciously to himself his pace slackened, it was as though his mind had willed to have time to review things that should answer his question, before he should reach his rooms, and the consideration should be broken into.

"There was first," he mused "that gradual falling away from the Truth of G.o.d, for a full half of the nineteenth century--very gradual, very slow, and very subtle at first, but growing bolder each year, until, in the early part of the first decade of the twentieth century, men calling themselves Christians, taking the salaries of Christian ministers, openly denied every fundamental truth of the Bible--Sin, the Fall, The Atonement, The Resurrection, the Immaculate Birth of Christ, His Deity, the Personality of Satan, the Personality of The Holy Spirit, and everything else in G.o.d's word which clashed with the flesh of their unregenerate lives.

"Then there was the giving heed to seducing spirits _and teachings of demons_ (demonology, called spiritism) '_forbidding to marry_'

(doctrine of l.u.s.t, known as 'Free Love.')

"Great forces were at work during the latter part of the nineteenth century, and more especially in the early part of the twentieth, all of which were preparing the way for the Anti-christ.

"What blinded intellects called 'Progress,' was really Apostasy. And Scientists, Materialists, and Humanists, and the _world's_ teachers were all looking for some great outstanding genius, some super-man.

"The Believing Church, before the 'Rapture,' had its Hope, a Hope given by G.o.d of _A Man_ who should head all things up in Himself, and clothe His Church with His own glory. And that Man came, the Man Christ Jesus, the Lord of Glory. And all the time the world had _its_ hope, and just as Christ, the Hope of the Church, said '_I will come again_,'

so He also said, as regards the world's hope, '_Another shall come in his own name_,' and now--"

George Bullen paused in his walking and looked back to where the laudatory shouts of the deluded mult.i.tude, still rose around Apleon.

"And now," he continued, "that other _has_ come, come in his own name, and the world has received him. As late as nineteen hundred and eight, one of the world's so-called 'great thinkers,' a D.D., too, said:

"'We still wait for _The Genius_ who shall state our fundamental faith in accordance with that insight which the _modern man_ has gained.'

"That '_great thinker_,' if he is living, ought now to be satisfied, for his '_Genius_' has appeared. And if he still possesses a Bible, let him turn to Revelation, thirteen-eighteen, and he will know how all his fancied man-progress was prophesied for nearly two thousand years ago in the words: '_Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast; for it is_ THE NUMBER OF MAN; _and his number is 666_.'

"Oh, yes, in a hundred and one ways, the coming of the Anti-christ, and the consequent worship of his Satanic-energized personality, was well-paved; for the world relegated to the limbo of the past, G.o.d's evangel as effete, superst.i.tious, worn-out, and it was then prepared for the Devil's lie, the Great Delusion."

By this time George's feet had carried him to the door of the house.

He knocked, as arranged before leaving, three slow, deliberate knocks and two others, sharp, quickly-following.

Almost instantly Rose appeared at the door. She had prepared an evening meal, and over the supper-table he told her all that he had seen and heard, while out, adding:

"The whole world will be abjectly at the feet of that man of Satan, presently."

For a few moments they talked on together, then she rose to clear the table. His eyes followed her in all her movements, for, in spite of her bruised stiffness, all that she did was done so deftly, and every movement of her beautiful form was full of the grace of perfect ease.

Now, almost for the first time, it came to him with full seriousness, "What am I to do with her? since, saving her, housing her I have, to a certain extent, made myself responsible for her?"

When she returned to the room, after clearing the last thing from the table, he said:

"We must face your future, Rose! What are your plans, or haven't you any?"

"I am afraid I have no plans," she returned. "You see, good George, I was so terrified at all I heard from my brother, that I simply got away as quickly as I could, without any plan for the future, other than that there has always been, at the back of my mind, an idea, that should I ever (from any cause whatever) become a refugee, I should make my way to England. For, rightly or wrongly; I believe the peoples of all the world have always a.s.sociated with England the two thoughts of safety and liberty."

Lifting her eyes to his, a bright smile filling all her face, she went on:

"I am not without money. I have nearly twenty-five pounds with me.

The question is, where would one--who would rather die than wear the 'Mark of the Beast'--be safest? In England, do you think?"

"I don't know, Rose. _My_ place is there, because my _duty_ lies there. And now that I have, I think, finished all that I can do here, I ought to be getting back, at once. I ought, I think, to go to-night.

At ten-thirty there is a good service to the West, but I cannot leave you alone here. I fear that death, in some way, must have overtaken the people of this house, so that I cannot remain here, but must leave the house to its fate. But about you, Rose? I cannot leave you, like the house, to your fate!"

With the absolute trust of a little child, she stretched her hands towards him, saying:

"Good George, my saviour already from one dreadful death, save me again please. Take care of me until we get to England, take me with you, I will be no expense to you, I will give no trouble, I will--"

Her clinging, child-like trust moved him greatly. He took the two pretty, plump little hands in his, and holding them in a clasp, firm and tight, as though by his grip upon her he would give her an a.s.surance of safety, he said:

"Take you with me, little one, of course I will. And now that is settled we will talk over our plans, for I think we ought to leave by that ten-thirty Western-bound service. Each hour after to-night, the service will become more crowded, and we had better avoid the crowd, if we can."

George Bullen had never had much to do with women. No woman had ever quickened by one extra beat his heart or pulse. Yet now he felt himself strangely, mysteriously drawn to this sweet young Lebanon girl.

He realized that it was no time for love-making, yet he would have been of marble not to have been moved by her trust in him, and by her sweet, gracious personality.

At ten-thirty that night they were clear of the place, and homeward-bound to England.

CHAPTER XII.

ANTI-"WE-ISM."

Sir Archibald Carlyon, proprietor of the "Courier," and Ralph Bastin's employer, had just arrived at the "Courier" office. The whilom middle-aged, sprightly old man was as bowed and decrepit as a man of ninety.

As he entered the editorial private room, Ralph, for one instant, did not recognize him. Then, as he realized who it was, he sprang forward with an almost son-like solicitude, and helped him to a chair.

"Sir Archibald, what has happened?" he cried.

The old man lifted weary, hopeless eyes, out of which all the old-time flash had gone, and nothing but heavy dullness remained. "Have _you_ heard from my boy, from George?" he asked.

"No, why, is there anything the matter, Sir Archibald?" Ralph's tones were full of alarmed anxiety.

The baronet's hand had been thrust into his breast-pocket, as he spoke.

He took out a letter and handing it to Ralph, groaned out the two words:

"Read that!"

Ralph caught his breath as his eyes took in the first lines: "Dear Uncle, by the time you receive this, I shall be beyond _this_ life, though _where_--in that outer world, that world beyond--I can--not tell."

Ralph had not turned to the signature, he knew the writing too well, and knew it for bright, happy jocund George Carlyon's. He read on:

"All that has happened in the world, of late, has driven me mad. Dear old Tom Hammond wrote me fully of his change of heart, and besought me to face the whole matter of my 'eternal destiny,' as he termed it. I simply did not reply to his letter. Three days later he was taken, with all those others, to G.o.d. Since then I have plunged into everything trying to drown thought, and remorse, but I cannot, so I am ending all--there's a mad thing to say, as if death could end all.

Though I do not doubt but what many other fellows will do what I am doing now. Good bye, good old Hunky Archie,

"Your unhappy, rotten, "GEORGE."

As Ralph lifted his eyes from the paper he found Sir Archibald's fixed upon him, and the anguish in the poor old dull eyes drew tears to Ralph's.

"We found him," cried the old man, "in the boathouse, by the lake, with a bullet through his temples. My poor boy! My n.o.ble boy!"

Dry-eyes, but with a soul full of anguish, his features, too, twisted with the anguish of his soul, the old man rocked himself for a moment in his chair.