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Page 67
Two hours I left Fausta in the rocking-chair, which there the Public had
provided for her. Then I returned, sadly enough. No tidings of Rowdy
Rob, none of trunk, Bible, money, letter, medal, or anything. Still was
my district sergeant hopeful, and, as always, respectful. But I was
hopeless this time, and I knew that the next day Fausta would be
plunging into the war with intelligence-houses and advertisements. For
the night, I was determined that she should spend it in my ideal
"respectable boarding-house." On my way down town, I stopped in at one
or two shops to make inquiries, and satisfied myself where I would take
her. Still I thought it wisest that we should go after tea; and another
cross-street baker, and another pair of rolls, and another tap at the
Croton, provided that repast for us. Then I told Fausta of the
respectable boarding-house, and that she must go there. She did not say
no. But she did say she would rather not spend the evening there. "There
must be some place open for us," said she. "There! there is a
church-bell! The church is always home. Let us come there."
So to "evening meeting" we went, startling the sexton by arriving an
hour early. If there were any who wondered what was the use of that
Wednesday-evening service, we did not. In a dark gallery pew we sat, she
at one end, I at the other; and, if the whole truth be told, each of us
fell asleep at once, and slept till the heavy organ tones taught us that
the service had begun. A hundred or more people had straggled in then,
and the preacher, good soul, he took for his text, "Doth not God care
for the ravens?" I cannot describe the ineffable feeling of home that
came over me in that dark pew of that old church. I had never been in so
large a church before. I had never heard so heavy an organ before.
Perhaps I had heard better preaching, but never any that came to my
occasions more. But it was none of these things which moved me. It was
the fact that we were just where we had a right to be. No impudent
waiter could ask us why we were sitting there, nor any petulant
policeman propose that we should push on. It was God's house, and,
because his, it was his children's.
All this feeling of repose grew upon me, and, as it proved, upon Fausta
also. For when the service was ended, and I ventured to ask her whether
she also had this sense of home and rest, she assented so eagerly, that
I proposed, though with hesitation, a notion which had crossed me, that
I should leave her there.
"I cannot think," I said, "of any possible harm that could come to you
before morning."
"Do you know, I had thought of that very same thing, but I did not dare
tell you," she said.
Was not I glad that she had considered me her keeper! But I only said,
"At the 'respectable boarding-house' you might be annoyed by questions."
"And no one will speak to me here. I know that from Goody Two-Shoes."
"I will be here," said I, "at sunrise in the morning." And so I bade her
good by, insisting on leaving in the pew my own great-coat. I knew she
might need it before morning. I walked out as the sexton closed the door
below on the last of the down-stairs worshippers. He passed along the
aisles below, with his long poker which screwed down the gas. I saw at
once that he had no intent of exploring the galleries. But I loitered
outside till I saw him lock the doors and depart; and then, happy in the
thought that Miss Jones was in the safest place in New York,--as
comfortable as she was the night before, and much more comfortable than
she had been any night upon the canal, I went in search of my own
lodging.
"To the respectable boarding-house?"
Not a bit, reader. I had no shillings for respectable or disrespectable
boarding-houses. I asked the first policeman where his district station
was. I went into its office, and told the captain that I was green in
the city; had got no work and no money. In truth, I had left my purse in
Miss Jones's charge, and a five-cent piece, which I showed the chief,
was all I had. He said no word but to bid me go up two flights and turn
into the first bunk I found. I did so; and in five minutes was asleep in
a better bed than I had slept in for nine days.
That was what the Public did for me that night. I, too, was safe!
I am making this story too long. But with that night and its anxieties
the end has come. At sunrise I rose and made my easy toilet. I bought
and ate my roll,--varying the brand from yesterday's. I bought another,
with a lump of butter, and an orange, for Fausta. I left my portmanteau
at the station, while I rushed to the sexton's house, told his wife I
had left my gloves in church the night before,--as was the truth,--and
easily obtained from her the keys. In a moment I was in the
vestibule--locked in--was in the gallery, and there found Fausta, just
awake, as she declared, from a comfortable night, reading her morning
lesson in the Bible, and sure, she said, that I should soon appear. Nor
ghost, nor wraith, had visited her. I spread for her a brown paper
tablecloth on the table in the vestibule. I laid out her breakfast for
her, called her, and wondered at her toilet. How is it that women always
make themselves appear as neat and finished as if there were no
conflict, dust, or wrinkle in the world.
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