The Judgment House by Parker, Gilbert, 1860-1932

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Title: The Judgment House

Author: Gilbert Parker

Release Date: Feb, 2003 [EBook #3746]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on August 15, 2001]
[This file was last updated on June 13, 2002]

Edition: 11
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INSIDE OF THE CUP, V1, BY CHURCHILL ***

This etext was produced by Juli Rew (juliana@ucar.edu).

THE JUDGMENT HOUSE

by Gilbert Parker

NOTE

Except where references to characters well-known to all the world
occur in these pages, this book does not present a picture of public
or private individuals living or dead. It is not in any sense a
historical novel. It is in conception and portraiture a work of the
imagination.

"Strangers come to the outer wall--
(Why do the sleepers stir?)
Strangers enter the Judgment House--
(Why do the sleepers sigh?)
Slow they rise in their judgment seats,
Sieve and measure the naked souls,
Then with a blessing return to sleep.
(Quiet the Judgment House.)
Lone and sick are the vagrant souls--
(When shall the world come home?)"

"Let them fight it out, friend! things have gone too far,
God must judge the couple: leave them as they are--
Whichever one's the guiltless, to his glory,
And whichever one the guilt's with, to my story!

"Once more. Will the wronger, at this last of all,
Dare to say, 'I did wrong,' rising in his fall?
No? Let go, then! Both the fighters to their places!
While I count three, step you back as many paces!"

"And the Sibyl, you know. I saw her with my own eyes at
Cumae, hanging in a jar; and when the boys asked her, 'What
would you, Sibyl?' she answered, 'I would die.'"

"So is Pheidippides happy for ever,--the noble strong man
Who would race like a God, bear the face of a God, whom a
God loved so well:
He saw the land saved he had helped to save, and was suffered to tell
Such tidings, yet never decline, but, gloriously as he began
So to end gloriously--once to shout, thereafter to be mute:
'Athens is saved!' Pheidippides dies in the shout for his meed."

"Oh, never star

Was lost here, but it rose afar."

THE JUDGMENT HOUSE
BOOK I
CHAPTER I

THE JASMINE FLOWER

The music throbbed in a voice of singular and delicate power; the air
was resonant with melody, love and pain. The meanest Italian in the
gallery far up beneath the ceiling, the most exalted of the land in
the boxes and the stalls, leaned indulgently forward, to be swept by
this sweet storm of song. They yielded themselves utterly to the power
of the triumphant debutante who was making "Manassa" the musical feast
of the year, renewing to Covent Garden a reputation which recent lack
of enterprise had somewhat forfeited.

Yet, apparently, not all the vast audience were hypnotized by the
unknown and unheralded singer, whose stage name was Al'mah. At the
moment of the opera's supreme appeal the eyes of three people at least
were not in the thraldom of the singer. Seated at the end of the first
row of the stalls was a fair, slim, graciously attired man of about
thirty, who, turning in his seat so that nearly the whole house was in
his circle of vision, stroked his golden moustache, and ran his eyes
over the thousands of faces with a smile of pride and satisfaction
which in a less handsome man would have been almost a leer. His name
was Adrian Fellowes.

Either the opera and the singer had no charms for Adrian Fellowes, or
else he had heard both so often that, without doing violence to his
musical sense, he could afford to study the effect of this wonderful
effort upon the mob of London, mastered by the radiant being on the
stage. Very sleek, handsome, and material he looked; of happy colour,
and, apparently, with a mind and soul in which no conflicts ever
raged--to the advantage of his attractive exterior. Only at the summit
of the applause did he turn to the stage again. Then it was with the
gloating look of the gambler who swings from the roulette-table with
the winnings of a great coup, cynical joy in his eyes that he has
beaten the Bank, conquered the dark spirit which has tricked him so
often. Now the cold-blue eyes caught, for a second, the dark-brown
eyes of the Celtic singer, which laughed at him gaily, victoriously,
eagerly, and then again drank in the light and the joy of the myriad
faces before her.

In a box opposite the royal box were two people, a man and a very
young woman, who also in the crise of the opera were not looking at
the stage. The eyes of the man, sitting well back--purposely, so that
he might see her without marked observation--were fixed upon the
rose-tinted, delicate features of the girl in a joyous blue silk gown,
which was so perfect a contrast to the golden hair and wonderful
colour of her face. Her eyes were fixed upon her lap, the lids half
closed, as though in reverie, yet with that perspicuous and reflective
look which showed her conscious of all that was passing round

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