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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Turnbull," said MacIan, "you have said some things so true and some so false that I want to talk; and I will try to talk so that you understand. For at present you do not understand at all. We don't seem to mean the same things by the same words." He stood silent for a second or two and then resumed. "A minute or two ago I caught you out in a real contradiction.
It was more like the distinction between one animal and another. But " "Well?" said Turnbull. MacIan was silent. "Go on," repeated Turnbull; "what's the matter with you? What are you staring at?" "I am staring," said MacIan at last, "at that which shall judge us both." "Oh, yes," said Turnbull in a tired way, "I suppose you mean God." "No, I don't," said MacIan, shaking his head. "I mean him."
"I," said the man, indignantly, "I'm in my own garden." "Oh," said MacIan, simply, "I apologize." Turnbull was coolly curling his red moustache, and the stranger stared from one to the other, temporarily stunned by their innocent assurance. "But, may I ask," he said at last, "what the devil you are doing in my summer-house?" "Certainly," said MacIan. "We were just going to fight."
"Let us fight at once," he cried, "it is the end of the world." "You're overdone, MacIan," said Turnbull, putting him on one side. "It's only someone playing the goat. Let me open the door." But he also picked up a sword as he stepped to open it. He paused one moment with his hand on the handle and then flung the door open.
When you wrote those words about Our Lady, you were in that act a wicked man doing a wicked thing. If I hate you it is because you have hated goodness. And if I like you...it is because you are good." Turnbull's face wore an indecipherable expression. "Well, shall we fight now?" he said. "Yes," said MacIan, with a sudden contraction of his black brows, "yes, it must be now."
Then after a moment's hesitation he put his other hand on the shoulder of MacIan. His blue eyes looked extraordinarily brilliant and beautiful. In many sceptical papers and magazines afterwards he was sadly or sternly rebuked for having abandoned the certainties of materialism. All his life up to that moment he had been most honestly certain that materialism was a fact.
Turnbull turned for some reason a little red and remarked quickly, "That may be jolly clever, for all I know. But everyone does know that there is a division between the things that as a matter of fact do commonly happen and the things that don't. Things that break the evident laws of nature " "Which does not exist," put in MacIan sleepily. Turnbull struck the table with a sudden hand.
"You would bump your head badly," cried MacIan, suddenly starting up. "One can't talk of this kind of thing under a ceiling at all. Come outside! Come outside and ascend into heaven!" He burst the door open on a blue abyss of evening and they stepped out into it: it was suddenly and strangely cool.
Then leaving MacIan and the policemen equally and instantaneously nailed to the road, he ran a little way along it, leapt off on to a part of the beach, which he had found in his journey to be firmer, and went across it with a clatter of pebbles.
Turnbull, we cannot trust the ball to be always a ball; we cannot trust reason to be reasonable. In the end the great terrestrial globe will go quite lop-sided, and only the cross will stand upright." There was a long silence, and then Turnbull said, hesitatingly: "Has it occurred to you that since since those two dreams, or whatever they were " "Well?" murmured MacIan.
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