She used physical force while she talked. Their breath rose in the air; the old woman's high-pitched voice echoed in the silent street; Judith dragged at Margery, while she, numbly conscious of the great cold, found herself not strong enough to shake her mother off. Mrs. Huxam held on and prayed aloud, with a vigour that mastered the wife of Jacob, until Margery felt her will perishing and her limbs refusing to resist. One last effort was made.
"Think before you hale me back," she said. "Oh, mother, think! It's either going home, or dying—I know it."
"'Home!' Where's your home? Don't you understand yet? Have you drunk poison unbeknownst to us? Brace your body to do your soul's work, Margery! There's only one home for the spirits of the just made perfect. Trust your mother, who's wearied your Maker's ear for you ever since you were born. Trust me, I say. Am I nothing? Don't you want Heaven, if only for my sake? Well I know you do. Praise God for His blessings and set your foot firm on the only way. That's right—that's right. Lean on me and praise your Maker. Oh, child—you poor, strayed sheep—did you think to go through this icy night all that way to hell? But you'd have fallen frozen—frozen in your sin—and then the loving Lord's self couldn't have saved you. But you're safe now—safe, safe, Margery. The angels are singing over the sinner that was saved. We should hear 'em if our ears weren't stopped with earth. That's my brave child, with her hand in God's and the powers of darkness routed. Off they go! You can almost see 'em—and the Children of Light guide you home."
She half supported, half dragged Margery back; then she helped her to her room still pouring out a flood of speech. Mrs. Huxam had grown a little hysterical herself. Her daughter fell quite silent, and submitted, like a child, to be undressed. But suddenly a moment of futile passion loosed her lips and she turned on her mother.
"You've brought me back to my death," she said. "Understand that, grasp hold of it. Your work to shorten my poor days and crush out my last hope. I shall never rise again off this bed—never, never!"
As she spoke, Mr. Huxam, who had been awakened, appeared at the doorway in a red dressing-gown and white wool night-cap.
"Praise God, father, praise God—lift your voice to the sleepless Everlasting!" cried Judith. "The Powers of Darkness are shattered and our girl's safe—safe!"
"Never did I doubt it," answered the man, and then he busied himself and begged his wife to come to bed.
But Judith would not leave Margery.
"I sleep with her—with my arms round her—with her head on the breast that gave her life and the heart that has beat for her since she was born. Be off to your chamber, Barlow, and sleep no more, but praise God. All's well—all's well now!"