The Interdict

However, my attention was suddenly snatched from such matters; our child began to lose ground again, and we had to go to sitting up with her, her case became so serious. We couldn’t bear to allow anybody to help in this service, so we two stood watch-and-watch, day in and day out. Ah, Sandy, what a right heart she had, how simple, and genuine, and good she was! She was a flawless wife and mother; and yet I had married her for no other particular reasons, except that by the customs of chivalry she was my property until some knight should win her from me in the field. She had hunted Britain over for me; had found me at the hanging-bout outside of London, and had straightway resumed her old place at my side in the placidest way and as of right. I was a New Englander, and in my opinion this sort of partnership would compromise her, sooner or later. She couldn’t see how, but I cut argument short and we had a wedding.

But my attention was suddenly pulled away from such matters. Our child began to get worse again, and her condition became so serious that we had to sit up with her. We couldn’t bear to let anyone help us, so the two of us took turns watching over her, day and night. Ah, Sandy, what a good heart she had! How simple, genuine, and good she was! She was a perfect wife and mother. Yet I had married her for no particular reason except that, under the customs of chivalry, she was my property until some knight won her from me in battle. She had searched all over Britain for me. She found me at the hanging outside London and immediately resumed her old place at my side, calmly and as if it were her right. I was a New Englander, and in my opinion, living together like this would damage her reputation sooner or later. She couldn’t see how, but I cut the argument short, and we got married.

Now I didn’t know I was drawing a prize, yet that was what I did draw. Within the twelvemonth I became her worshiper; and ours was the dearest and perfectest comradeship that ever was. People talk about beautiful friendships between two persons of the same sex. What is the best of that sort, as compared with the friendship of man and wife, where the best impulses and highest ideals of both are the same? There is no place for comparison between the two friendships; the one is earthly, the other divine.

I didn’t know I was drawing a prize, but that was what I drew. Within a year, I adored her. Ours was the closest and most perfect companionship there ever was. People talk about beautiful friendships between two people of the same sex. But how can even the best of those compare with the friendship between a husband and wife whose finest impulses and highest ideals are the same? There is no comparison between the two kinds of friendship. One is earthly, the other divine.

In my dreams, along at first, I still wandered thirteen centuries away, and my unsatisfied spirit went calling and harking all up and down the unreplying vacancies of a vanished world. Many a time Sandy heard that imploring cry come from my lips in my sleep. With a grand magnanimity she saddled that cry of mine upon our child, conceiving it to be the name of some lost darling of mine. It touched me to tears, and it also nearly knocked me off my feet, too, when she smiled up in my face for an earned reward, and played her quaint and pretty surprise upon me:

At first, I still wandered thirteen centuries away in my dreams. My restless spirit called and listened throughout the silent emptiness of a vanished world. Many times, Sandy heard me cry out pleadingly in my sleep. With great generosity, she gave our child the name I cried out, thinking it belonged to someone dear to me whom I had lost. Her sweet, unexpected gesture moved me to tears and nearly knocked me off my feet. She smiled up at me, expecting a reward she had earned, and presented her charming surprise:

“The name of one who was dear to thee is here preserved, here made holy, and the music of it will abide alway in our ears. Now thou’lt kiss me, as knowing the name I have given the child.”

“The name of someone dear to you is preserved here and made holy. Its music will always remain in our ears. Now you will kiss me, knowing the name I have given the child.”

But I didn’t know it, all the same. I hadn’t an idea in the world; but it would have been cruel to confess it and spoil her pretty game; so I never let on, but said:

But I still didn’t know. I had no idea at all. But it would have been cruel to admit it and spoil her pretty game. So I didn’t let on. Instead, I said:

“Yes, I know, sweetheart—how dear and good it is of you, too! But I want to hear these lips of yours, which are also mine, utter it first—then its music will be perfect.”

“Yes, I know, sweetheart. How sweet and kind of you! But I want to hear you say it first, with those lips of yours that are mine too. Then its music will be perfect.”

Pleased to the marrow, she murmured:

Deeply pleased, she murmured:

“Hello-Central!”

“Hello-Central!”

I didn’t laugh—I am always thankful for that—but the strain ruptured every cartilage in me, and for weeks afterward I could hear my bones clack when I walked. She never found out her mistake. The first time she heard that form of salute used at the telephone she was surprised, and not pleased; but I told her I had given order for it: that henceforth and forever the telephone must always be invoked with that reverent formality, in perpetual honor and remembrance of my lost friend and her small namesake. This was not true. But it answered.

I didn’t laugh. I’m always thankful for that. But the effort tore every cartilage in my body, and for weeks afterward I could hear my bones clack when I walked. She never discovered her mistake. The first time she heard that greeting used on the telephone, she was surprised and displeased. But I told her I had ordered it. From then on, everyone had to use that reverent greeting whenever they answered the telephone. It would forever honor the memory of my lost friend and her little namesake. That wasn’t true. But it worked.

Well, during two weeks and a half we watched by the crib, and in our deep solicitude we were unconscious of any world outside of that sick-room. Then our reward came: the center of the universe turned the corner and began to mend. Grateful? It isn’t the term. There isn’t any term for it. You know that yourself, if you’ve watched your child through the Valley of the Shadow and seen it come back to life and sweep night out of the earth with one all-illuminating smile that you could cover with your hand.

Well, for two and a half weeks we kept watch by the crib. We were so worried that we were unaware of any world outside that sickroom. Then our reward came: the center of the universe turned the corner and began to get better. Grateful? That’s not the word. There isn’t a word for it. You know that yourself if you’ve watched your child pass through the Valley of the Shadow. You’ve seen your child come back to life and sweep night from the earth with one radiant smile. And you could cover that smile with your hand.

Why, we were back in this world in one instant! Then we looked the same startled thought into each other’s eyes at the same moment; more than two weeks gone, and that ship not back yet!

Why, we were back in this world in an instant! Then we looked into each other’s eyes and had the same startled thought. More than two weeks had passed, and that ship still hadn’t returned!

In another minute I appeared in the presence of my train. They had been steeped in troubled bodings all this time—their faces showed it. I called an escort and we galloped five miles to a hilltop overlooking the sea. Where was my great commerce that so lately had made these glistening expanses populous and beautiful with its white-winged flocks? Vanished, every one! Not a sail, from verge to verge, not a smoke-bank—just a dead and empty solitude, in place of all that brisk and breezy life.

A minute later, I appeared before my party. They had been full of troubled fears all this time. I could see it on their faces. I called for an escort, and we galloped five miles to a hilltop overlooking the sea. Where was my great commerce? Only recently, its flocks of white-sailed ships had filled those glistening waters and made them beautiful. Every one had vanished! Not a sail or a bank of smoke anywhere from horizon to horizon. In place of all that busy, breezy life, there was only a dead and empty solitude.

I went swiftly back, saying not a word to anybody. I told Sandy this ghastly news. We could imagine no explanation that would begin to explain. Had there been an invasion? an earthquake? a pestilence? Had the nation been swept out of existence? But guessing was profitless. I must go—at once. I borrowed the king’s navy—a “ship” no bigger than a steam launch—and was soon ready.

I hurried back without saying a word to anyone. I told Sandy the terrible news. We could not imagine anything that even began to explain it. Had there been an invasion? An earthquake? A plague? Had the nation been wiped out? But guessing was useless. I had to go at once. I borrowed the king’s navy, a “ship” no bigger than a small steamboat, and was soon ready.

The parting—ah, yes, that was hard. As I was devouring the child with last kisses, it brisked up and jabbered out its vocabulary!—the first time in more than two weeks, and it made fools of us for joy. The darling mispronunciations of childhood!—dear me, there’s no music that can touch it; and how one grieves when it wastes away and dissolves into correctness, knowing it will never visit his bereaved ear again. Well, how good it was to be able to carry that gracious memory away with me!

Parting was hard, yes, very hard. As I smothered the child with last kisses, the little one perked up and began chattering away! It was the first time in more than two weeks, and it made us giddy with joy. Those darling childhood mispronunciations! Dear me, no music can compare to them. How we grieve when they fade away and give way to correct speech. We know we will never hear them again. Well, how good it was to carry that lovely memory away with me!

I approached England the next morning, with the wide highway of salt water all to myself. There were ships in the harbor, at Dover, but they were naked as to sails, and there was no sign of life about them. It was Sunday; yet at Canterbury the streets were empty; strangest of all, there was not even a priest in sight, and no stroke of a bell fell upon my ear. The mournfulness of death was everywhere. I couldn’t understand it. At last, in the further edge of that town I saw a small funeral procession—just a family and a few friends following a coffin—no priest; a funeral without bell, book, or candle; there was a church there close at hand, but they passed it by weeping, and did not enter it; I glanced up at the belfry, and there hung the bell, shrouded in black, and its tongue tied back. Now I knew! Now I understood the stupendous calamity that had overtaken England. Invasion? Invasion is a triviality to it. It was the Interdict!

I approached England the next morning, with the wide highway of salt water all to myself. There were ships in the harbor at Dover, but their sails were down, and there was no sign of life aboard. It was Sunday, yet the streets of Canterbury were empty. Strangest of all, there wasn’t even a priest in sight, and I didn’t hear a single bell. The sadness of death was everywhere. I couldn’t understand it. At last, at the far edge of town, I saw a small funeral procession. It was just a family and a few friends following a coffin, with no priest. It was a funeral without bell, book, or candle. There was a church nearby, but they passed it by, weeping, and did not go in. I glanced up at the bell tower. The bell hung there, covered in black, with its tongue tied back. Now I knew! Now I understood the immense disaster that had struck England. Invasion? An invasion is a trifle compared with it. It was the Interdict!

I asked no questions; I didn’t need to ask any. The Church had struck; the thing for me to do was to get into a disguise, and go warily. One of my servants gave me a suit of clothes, and when we were safe beyond the town I put them on, and from that time I traveled alone; I could not risk the embarrassment of company.

I asked no questions. I didn’t need to. The Church had struck, so I needed to disguise myself and be careful. One of my servants gave me a suit of clothes. Once we were safely beyond the town, I put them on. From then on, I traveled alone. I couldn’t risk the trouble of having company.

A miserable journey. A desolate silence everywhere. Even in London itself. Traffic had ceased; men did not talk or laugh, or go in groups, or even in couples; they moved aimlessly about, each man by himself, with his head down, and woe and terror at his heart. The Tower showed recent war-scars. Verily, much had been happening.

A miserable journey. A bleak silence everywhere. Even in London itself. Traffic had stopped. Men did not talk or laugh, or gather in groups or even pairs. Each man wandered alone, head down, with sorrow and terror in his heart. The Tower bore fresh scars from war. Clearly, much had happened.

Of course, I meant to take the train for Camelot. Train! Why, the station was as vacant as a cavern. I moved on. The journey to Camelot was a repetition of what I had already seen. The Monday and the Tuesday differed in no way from the Sunday. I arrived far in the night. From being the best electric-lighted town in the kingdom and the most like a recumbent sun of anything you ever saw, it was become simply a blot—a blot upon darkness—that is to say, it was darker and solider than the rest of the darkness, and so you could see it a little better; it made me feel as if maybe it was symbolical—a sort of sign that the Church was going to keep the upper hand now, and snuff out all my beautiful civilization just like that. I found no life stirring in the somber streets. I groped my way with a heavy heart. The vast castle loomed black upon the hilltop, not a spark visible about it. The drawbridge was down, the great gate stood wide, I entered without challenge, my own heels making the only sound I heard—and it was sepulchral enough, in those huge vacant courts.

Of course, I meant to take the train to Camelot. Train! Why, the station was as empty as a cave. I moved on. The journey to Camelot was a repeat of what I had already seen. Monday and Tuesday were no different from Sunday. I arrived late at night. Camelot had been the best electrically lit town in the kingdom. It had looked more like a sun lying on its side than anything you ever saw. Now it was just a blot on the darkness. That is, it was darker and more solid than the surrounding darkness, so you could see it a little better. It made me feel as if maybe it was symbolic. Perhaps it was a sign that the Church was going to keep the upper hand now and snuff out all my beautiful civilization just like that. I found no life stirring in the gloomy streets. I felt my way along with a heavy heart. The vast castle loomed black on the hilltop, without a spark of light anywhere around it. The drawbridge was down, and the great gate stood wide open. I entered without being challenged. The only sound I heard was my own heels. And in those huge, empty courtyards, even that sounded like a tomb.