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he withdrew further and further from the world； on the other he felt that he was letting his followers slip away from him now at the very moment when he should be closest to them； advising； helping； encouraging。 This divided impulse was a torture； and as the weeks went on he ate less and less and slept scarcely at all。 He had been for a long time past in delicate health owing to the weakness of his heart； and now he began to look strange indeed； with his bright gaunt face with its prominent cheek…bones； his eyes straining to see beyond his actual vision； his flowing white beard。 His doctor； a cheerful； commonplace little man； a member of the Chapel； although not a Saint； tried to do his best with him； but his visits only led to scenes of irritation； and Warlock obeyed none of his commands。 After a visit on the afternoon of Christmas Eve he took Amy aside：
〃Look here；〃 he said； 〃unless you keep a stricter eye on your father than you have been doing he'll be leaving you altogether。〃
She looked up at him with that odd dark impassivity that seemed to remove her so deliberately from her fellow…beings。
〃It's very well to talk like that；〃 she said。 〃But how is any one to have any control over him？ He listens to nothing that we say； and if we insist he's in a frenzy of irritation。〃
〃Can your mother do nothing？〃 the doctor asked。
〃Mother？〃 Amy smiled。 〃No； mother can do nothing。〃
〃Well；〃 said the doctor； 〃any sudden shock will kill himI warn you。〃
When the fog came down upon the city Warlock was already in too thick a fog of his own to perceive it。
He was sure now of nothing。 It seemed as though all the spirits of the other world now were taunting him； but he felt that this was the work of the Devil； who wished to destroy his faith before the Great Day arrived。 He thought now that the Devil was closely pursuing him； and he seemed to hear first his taunting whisper and then the voice of God encouraging him： 〃Well done； my good and faithful servant。〃
He had lost now almost all consciousness of what he really expected to happen when the Day arrived； but he was dimly aware that if nothing happened at all his whole influence with his people would be gone。 Nevertheless this did not trouble him very greatly； the congregation of the Chapel seemed now dimly remote。 The only human being who was not remote was Martin； his love for his son had not been touched by his other struggles； it had been even intensified。 But the love had grown a terror； ever increasing； lest Martin should leave him。 He seemed to hear dimly； beyond the wall of the mysterious world into whose regions he was ever more deeply passing； sentences； vague； without human agency； accusing Martin of sins and infidelities and riotous living。 Sometimes he was tempted to go further into this and challenge Martin's accusers； but fear held him back。 Martin had been a good son since his return to England； yes； he had； and he had forsaken his evil ways and was going to be with his father now until the end； his last refuge against loneliness。 Every one else had left him or was leaving him； but Martin was there。 Martin hadn't deceived him； Martin was a good boy 。 。 。 a good boy 。 。 。 and then； as it seemed to him； with Martin's hand in his own he would pass off into his world of strange dreams and desperate prayer and hours of waiting； listening； straining for a voice 。 。 。
During that last night before New Year's Eve an hour came to him when he seemed to be left utterly alone。 Exhausted； faint； dizzy with want of sleep and food； he knelt before his bed； his room seemed to be filled with devils； taunting him； tempting him； bewildering and blinding him。 He rose suddenly in a frenzy； striking out； rushing about his room； crying 。 。 。 then at last； exhausted； creeping back to his bed； falling down upon it and sinking into a long dreamless sleep。
They found him sleeping when they came to call him and they left him。 He did not wake until the early afternoon； his brain seemed clear and his body so weak that it was with the greatest difficulty that he washed and put on some clothes。
The room was dark with the fog； lamps in the street below glimmered uncertainly； and voices and the traffic of the street were muffled。 He opened his door and； looking out； heard in the room below Martin's voice raised excitedly。 Slowly he went down to meet him。
Martin also had reached； on that last day of the year； the very end of his tether。 During the last ten days he had been fighting against every weakness to which his character was susceptible。 With the New Year he felt that everything would be well； he could draw a new breath then； find work somewhere away from London； have Maggie perhaps with him； and drive a way out of all the tangle of his perplexities。 But even then he did not dare to face the future thoroughly。 Would his father let him go？ Was he； after all his struggles； to give way and ruin Maggie's position and future？ Could he be sure； if he look her away with him； that then he would keep straight； and that his old temptations of women and drink and general restlessness would be conquered？ Perhaps。 There had never been a surer proof that his love for Maggie was a real and unselfish love than his hesitation on that wretched day when he seemed utterly deserted by mankind； when Maggie seemed the only friend he had in the world。
Everything was just out of reach； and some perverse destiny prevented him from realising any desire that had a spark of honesty and decency in it。 It was not wonderful that in the midst of his loneliness and unhappiness he should have been tempted back to the old paths again； men； women； places that for more than three months now he had been struggling to abandon。
All that day he struggled with temptation。 He had not seen Maggie for a week； and during the last three days he had not heard from her； the adventurous Jane having defied the aunts and left。
At luncheon he asked about his father； whom he had not seen for two days。
〃Father had a very bad night。 He's asleep now。〃
〃There's something on to…night； isn't there？〃 he asked。
〃There's a service；〃 Amy answered shortly。
〃Father oughtn't to go；〃 he went on。 〃I suppose your friend Thurston can manage。〃
Amy looked at him。 〃Father's got to go。 It's very important。〃
〃Oh； of course； if you want to kill father with all your beastly services〃 he broke in furiously。
〃It won't be〃 Amy began； and then； as though she did not trust herself to continue； got up and left the room。
〃Mother；〃 he said； 〃why on earth don't you do something？〃
〃I； dear？〃 she looked at him placidly。 〃In what way？〃
〃They're killing father between them with all these services and the rest of the nonsense。〃
〃Your father doesn't listen to anything I say； dear。〃
〃He ought to go away for a long rest。〃
〃Well； dear； perhaps he will soon。 You know I have nothing to do with the Chapel。 That was settled years ago。 I wouldn't interfere for a great deal。〃
Martin turned fiercely upon her saying：
〃Mother； don't you care？〃
〃Care； dear？〃
〃Yes； about fatherhis living and getting well again and being happy as he used to be。 What's happened to this place？〃
She looked at him in the strangest way。 He suddenly felt that he'd never seen her before。
〃There are a number of things； Martin； that you don't understanda number of things。 You are away from us for years； you come back to us and expect things to be the same。〃
〃You and Amy；〃 he said； 〃both of you； have kept me out of everything since I came back。 I believe you both hate me！〃
She got up slowly from her seat； slowly put her spectacles away in their case； rubbed her fat little hands together； then suddenly licked inquisitively one finger as an animal might do。 She spoke to him over her shoulder as she went to the door：
〃Oh no； Martin； you speak too strongly。〃
Left then to his own devices he； at last； wandered out into the foggy streets。 After a while he found himself outside a public…house and； after a moment's hesitation； he went in。 He asked the stout； rubicund young woman behind the counter for a whisky。 She gave him one； he drank that； and then another。
Afterwards he had several more； leaning over the bar； speaking to no one； seeing no one； hearing nothing； and scarcely tasting the drink。 When he came out into the street again he knew that he was half drunknot so drunk that he didn't know what he was doing。 Oh dear； no。 HE could drink any amount without feeling it。 Nevertheless he had drunk so little during these last weeks that even a drop 。 。 。 How foggy the streets were 。 。 。 made it difficult to find your way home。 But he was all right； he could walk straight； he could put his latch…key into the door at one try； HE was all right。
He was at home again。 He didn't stop to hang up his hat and coat but went straight into the dining…room； leaving the door open behind him。 He saw that the meal was still on the table just as they'd left it。 Amy was there too。
He saw her move back when he came in as though she were afraid to touch him。
〃You're drunk！〃 she said。
〃I'm not。 You're a liar； Amy。 You've always been a liar all your life。〃
She tried to pass him； but he stood in the middle of the door。
〃No； you don't；〃 he said。 〃W