The Day of Judgment

by Joseph Hocking

"What do you mean, mother?"

"I mean all I say, Paul; never fear. But you want to be alone now, so I'll go and leave you."

As she went towards the door, he heard her muttering something about Howden Clough, but he did not pay much attention to her; his mind was too full of other things.

She closed the door behind her, and left him to his thoughts. He went into the lavatory and bathed his face, and as he looked at the wound on his temple a curious smile played around his lips. Presently he went back to his study again, and sat for hours brooding and planning, Murder was in his heart. "And they talk of God," he said. "They talk of a beneficent Providence that controls all and arranges all! A man has to be his own Providence. He has to shape his own destiny. He has to fight his own battles."

It was nearly midnight when at length he rose to his feet. His mind seemed to be made up as to what he intended to do. His course was mapped out. "Why, it's nearly twelve o'clock," he said. "And mother has not come to bid me 'Good-night.' I wonder why." He left the room, and found that the house was in absolute silence. All the lights were turned out; the ticking of an eight-day clock in the hall sounded clearly in the silence of the night. "I'll go up into her room," he said. Forthwith he went noiselessly up the thickly carpeted stairway, and knocked at her bedroom door. There was no answer. "Mother," he said, "mother. I want to speak to you." But there was no reply. All was silent.

He opened the door and went in. The room was empty, and the bed was unruffled. A strange feeling possessed him; he did not know what it was. It seemed as though something terrible had happened, but he could see nothing. Almost mechanically he opened some of the cupboards in the room, and saw his mother's dresses hanging—the dresses which he had bought for her with a great love in his heart. "I wonder where she is," he said. "I think I will go up to the top floor, and rouse the servants." Suiting the action to the thought, he went up the next flight of stairs. He stood for a moment and listened. He thought he heard the servants breathing heavily. Evidently they were fast asleep, and would know nothing about his mother. "I should only start them talking if I asked them where she is," he thought to himself. "Perhaps, after all, she is in one of the other rooms!"

Feeling almost like a thief, he visited every part of the house, but no one was there, and everything was as silent as death. "I can't go to bed and not know where she is," he reflected. "I wonder what she meant when she talked to me so strangely—what she had in her mind! I must know, I must know!" He opened the door, and went out into the night. The sky was moonless, but for a wonder it was resplendent with stars. All the factory fires were low, and the air was no longer smoke-sodden. The wind came from the sea, and he breathed deeply. It seemed as though a great healing power passed over his heart. He went into the little garden upon which he had bestowed such care, and stood still, listening. Not a sound broke the silence. Not a footstep was to be heard. A thought struck him, and he hurried back to the house again. The bonnet and boots which his mother usually wore when she went out were missing, and, as he noticed it, a great fear entered his heart. He looked at his watch; it was nearly midnight. "I wonder—I wonder!" he said to himself. A minute later he had closed the door, and was walking in the direction of Howden Clough.

It was six o'clock in the morning when he returned; but the month being December, darkness still reigned supreme. Black clouds now covered the sky, and a wailing wind passed round the house. He turned up the electric light, and saw that his mother's boots were placed ready for cleaning. They were covered with mud. Evidently she had had a long tramp.

"At any rate, she has returned," he said to himself. He went into all the downstairs rooms, but she was nowhere visible. Then he climbed the stairs again, and stood at his mother's bedroom door. He opened it and went in. The bed had not been used at all, but sitting in an armchair, just under the electric light, was his mother, her face buried in her hands.

"Mother," he said, "where have you been?"