Holmes."
Holmes stooped suddenly to pat Tiger, hiding a furtive smile.
The old man went on, anxiously,--
"Old Mr. Howth says that is the end of all self-governments: from
anarchy to despotism, he says. Brute force must come in. Old
people are apt to be set in their ways, you know. Honestly, we
do not find unlimited freedom answer in the House. I hope much
from a woman's assistance: I have destined her for this work
always: she has great latent power of sympathy and endurance,
such as can bring the Christian teaching home to these wretches."
"The Christian?" said Holmes.
"Well, yes. I am not a believer myself, you know; but I find
that it takes hold of these people more vitally than more
abstract faiths: I suppose because of the humanity of Jesus. In
Utopia, of course, we shall live from scientific principles; but
they do not answer in the House."
"Who is the woman?" asked Holmes, carelessly.
The other watched him keenly.
"She is coming for five years. Margret Howth."
He patted the dog with the same hard, unmoved touch.
"It is a religious duty with her. Besides, she must do
something. They have been almost starving since the mill was
burnt."
Holmes's face was bent; he could not see it. When he looked up,
Knowles thought it more rigid, immovable than before.
When Knowles was going away, Holmes said to him,--
"When does Margret Howth go into that devils' den?"
"The House? On New-Year's." The scorn in him was too savage to
be silent.
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