The Rogue's Redemption

by Ruth Axtell Morren

  As to Miss Leighton, after his conversation with her this evening, he knew he must steer clear of her. He didn’t need the additional sin of corrupting a pious young lady on his conscience, especially one whose direct way of looking at him stirred a need in him, as he’d told her, to confess every misdeed.

  Why, for pity’s sake, had he invited her to tour St. Paul’s the next day? He was playing with fire and he didn’t feel at all confident of his ability to keep from getting them both burned.

  Chapter Six

  The next day, Major Hawkes walked between Hester and Mrs. Bellows in the square fronting St. Paul’s Cathedral.

  “Why, it’s massive!” Hester stared up at the giant pairs of ribbed pillars lining the cathedral’s facade. “I get dizzy just looking up.”

  “You’ll get even dizzier looking down from the top.”

  She turned to him, hardly believing what he’d told her last night about climbing to the top of the dome. “Can a mere building really be so high?”

  “Come along and I’ll prove it to you.” He lightly grasped Hester’s arm on one side and Mrs. Bellows’s on the other and led them up the wide steps into the cathedral.

  “We haven’t any churches like this where I live,” she whispered, instinctively lowering her voice when they entered the cavernous interior.

  “No? There are so many splendid cathedrals all across Europe, one grows used to seeing them, isn’t that so, Mrs. Bellows?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if one quite grows used to seeing them,” the older lady replied. “And I haven’t traveled the way you have, Major.”

  “Every village across Spain and France seemed to have its cathedral,” he said in a careless tone.

  “I think, like Mrs. Bellows, I wouldn’t grow used to seeing something so grand,” Hester said. They had stopped near the entrance and stood looking down the long nave toward the altar. “This puts me in mind of Jesus telling the disciples that not one stone would be left upon another of their beautiful temple in Jerusalem.”

  The major chuckled. “This cathedral has already been destroyed a few times in its long history.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Truly?”

  “The latest was in the Great Fire which took much of London with it.”

  “And this magnificent structure replaced it?” They resumed their tour, their heels clicking on the black-and-white diamond-patterned stone floor.

  “Yes. It was rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren.”

  She drew in her breath at the length and breadth of the colonnaded nave before them. The stones were white and seemed to glow from the light streaming in from the arched windows high above them.

  “It is a lovely building, is it not, my dear?” Mrs. Bellows said, turning to look all around her.

  “Lovely,” she murmured, preferring to simply stare. When they reached the dome, she craned her neck up to view the soaring expanse above them. Light flooded the interior from the row of windows all along the circumference of the base of the dome. “It’s like no church I’ve ever seen.”

  “It was Wren’s masterpiece.” The major’s hushed tone was in keeping with their surroundings.

  “I can well imagine. How could anyone paint those murals so far up?” she asked, gazing in wonder at the pictures far above them.

  “Using all kinds of scaffolding, I suppose,” he said in amusement. “You haven’t seen the Vatican?”

  She glanced at him with a shake of her head. “The only churches I’ve seen are small wooden structures called meeting houses, and we don’t even have one of our own yet in Bangor.”

  “So, do you want to get a closer look?” His blue eyes held a challenge.

  “Do you mean go up there?” She hadn’t really thought it possible the way he’d described it the evening before.

  “See the gallery all around?” He pointed above them. “There is someone up there already, probably another tourist.”

  “Oh, my dear, it’s too far a climb,” Mrs. Bellows shook her head, her voice sounding worried.

  Major Hawkes turned to her. “My dear lady, this is the sole reason Miss Leighton came with us today. Would you deny her the opportunity to see this grand city laid out in all its splendor?” He took the older woman by the arm. “Why don’t you sit over there in that cozy corner of this cathedral and rest your feet for a few moments while I show Miss Leighton the grandeur of London?”

  “Why, all right. I could use a little rest…” Hester heard her voice dwindle in the distance as the major led Mrs. Bellows to a stone bench in the south transept. In a few moments he was back.

  “Come, we haven’t much time,” he told her with a grin and quick motion toward Mrs. Bellows. Hester followed him, finding his smile irresistible.

  He took her to an opening near the transept. Stone steps led upward. “How far is it?” she asked as they mounted the first step.

  “This leads to the first gallery, the one you saw from below. It’s called the Whispering Gallery.”

  “Why is that?”

  “If you whisper something against the wall on one side, it will be heard directly across.”

  “How can that be?”

  “Something to do with the acoustics of the dome. It does work. We can try it.”

  Hester was quite out of breath by the time they arrived at the gallery which circled beneath the dome.

  Hester paused at the entrance, a hand to her chest. “Oh, my.”

  “Scared?” He glanced back at her and held out his hand when she still hesitated. She took it, needing to hold on to something. His larger hand held hers securely and she felt immediately safer. She stepped over the threshold onto the narrow gallery.

  On one side of her, only a few feet away, stood a thin iron railing, the only barrier between them and a sheer drop to the bottom of the cathedral. Gingerly, she trod the worn stone floor beneath her, doubtful it would hold her.

  The major walked on the outside. After a few footsteps, he paused and led her to the edge so she could look below. She gripped his strong arm more tightly, feeling dizzy looking down.

  “What a difference from all the way up here.” Down below she could see the diamond-patterned floor and the beautifully carved wooden altar. She couldn’t see Mrs. Bellows from where they stood. She drew in her breath as she looked around and above her. They were still well below the base of the dome. All around her were golden grayish frescoes.

  She remembered what the major had told her. “Shall we try to whisper to each other?”

  “If you wish.” He indicated the stone benches lining the sides of the circular gallery. “You sit here and I’ll walk to the opposite side. Then you can whisper something to me.”

  When he had reached the other side, he waved and sat with his ear against the wall.

  She copied his position then thought a few seconds. What could she whisper to him? It came to her all of a sudden.

  She cupped a hand against the cool stone and whispered, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son.” Then she looked across to him. He motioned for her to listen.

  She did so. A second later she heard the verse being quoted back to her. She looked at him in amazement. How could it be possible for him to have heard her and sent her words back to her?

  She forgot her fear of heights and began walking toward him. He met her halfway.

  “I can’t believe you heard me! And that I heard you!”

  “Yes, it is rather amazing. I first came here as a schoolboy and we used to think it a lark to whisper back and forth to each other. Except we didn’t quote Bible scriptures.”

  “What kinds of things did you whisper?”

  “Oh, all sorts of naughty things which seem very tame now.” His eyes twinkled. “Are you game to go higher?”

  She felt her excitement growing. “Higher? Can we truly?”

  “I told you, we can get a whole view of London. Come along.”

  “What about Mrs. Bellows?”

  “What about her
? She can’t very well stop us from down there.”

  Hester laughed and followed him. The stairwell was now a narrow circular stairs with only a single iron railing to hold on to. Her legs began to tire.

  At last they came to a small doorway leading to the outside. When they passed through it into the sunshine, Hester couldn’t believe she was standing so high above the world. She gripped the stone balustrade, which came up to her chest. Hardly daring to look directly down, she preferred to stare across at the city laid out before them. “Are we on the dome?”

  “Yes,” he answered beside her. “We’re at the very base.” He pointed upward. “We can climb even higher to the cupola.”

  “This is quite far enough for me,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “Don’t grow fainthearted on me now. Let’s walk around a bit and I’ll show you some of the sights.”

  “All right,” she replied, glad of his hand on her elbow.

  When they stopped farther along the balustrade, Hester clutched her bonnet against the breeze and gazed in awe.

  “Well?”

  Below them, for miles she could see the tiled roofs of the city. “It’s magnificent. I can scarcely imagine so many people living in one space.”

  “Many believe it’s the greatest city in the world.”

  She turned to find his gaze on her. “Do you think so?”

  He shrugged and turned back to the vista beyond. “I’ve seen enough of other cities to weigh its advantages and disadvantages.”

  “The Thames looks like a silvery thread,” she said pointing to the river flowing south of them. They looked beyond it to Southwark.

  “That way lies Greenwich and the sea,” he indicated.

  “The people and horses look like ants down below.” She shivered, glad of the thick stone balustrade between her and the drop downward. “How can you walk so carelessly up here? I feel all shaky inside.”

  In reply, he suddenly heaved himself onto the balustrade and leaned halfway over the side.

  She gave a little scream. “What are you doing?”

  He merely grinned at her, leaning farther out and looking down.

  “Have a care,” she admonished, inching her way closer.

  “It’s not such a far drop on this side, only to the roof below.”

  She peered down, her heart pounding the farther out she edged. Beneath lay the slate roof of the transept. She imagined Mrs. Bellows sitting quietly underneath it somewhere. “I don’t think a person would survive a fall even to there.”

  He considered, following her gaze. “Don’t you?” The next second he had jumped back down to the walkway and brushed his hands off. He lingered at the spot, his hands spread out on the stone surface. “You know, this is wide enough to hold a man…if he should stand upon it.”

  The colonnaded balustrade was about a foot and a half wide. The mere thought of standing on it made her shiver. She looked at his face, not liking his tone. It was as if he were suddenly far away from her, entranced by the stone beneath his palms. “What a silly notion. Why would anyone want to do such a thing?”

  He shrugged and turned to her again. She breathed a sigh of relief at the hint of humor in his eyes. “For the challenge of it, I suppose.”

  She frowned. “Why should anyone want to risk certain death when there is so much to live for?”

  “So much to live for…Tell me, Miss Leighton, what are you living for?”

  Her eyes were caught by the deep blue of his, several shades deeper than the expanse of sky around them. How to explain to a person who had seen too much death and destruction the reason to live? “I have a race to run. Until it is over, I shan’t be deliberately putting my life in harm’s way.”

  He smiled and straightened away from the balustrade. “Rest easy. I don’t suppose I shall either…at least not today.”

  “I should hope not! Or ever.” Hester stepped away from the edge with a sense of relief. Although he’d been funning, the major’s attitude continued to disturb her. What was he living for? “You’ve been in danger many times.”

  “Many times, but I’ve eluded death every time. A few wounds only.” He sounded almost bitter.

  “I think each one of us is appointed an hour of death,” she said in an effort to comfort him.

  He drew her gaze away from the scene below. “Do you?”

  “For those of us in Christ, it only signifies the shedding of this outer body of ours. Our spirit lives forever and we have the hope of a new, incorruptible body.”

  “An incorruptible body—now there’s a thought.” With a sigh, he pushed himself away from the edge. “Come, let’s walk around and you can see another side of the city.”

  Hester followed him, glad he seemed back to his old self.

  “That’s Ludgate Hill leading to Fleet Street,” he said, indicating a heavily traveled thoroughfare farther along.

  She followed the line of his finger. As her gaze wandered into the distance where the buildings ended and the greenery began, she noticed the wavy horizon of trees. “I never imagined hills around London. Everything here seems so flat.”

  “That’s Hampstead and Highgate.”

  “What’s that large building there?” she asked, when they’d arrived back on the eastern side of the dome. “It looks a little like this one with its light colored stone.”

  “That’s the Bank of London. You might say it’s the cathedral’s twin.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The church and the bank—London’s twin bastions of power.”

  “You don’t think much of the church,” she commented.

  “What little I’ve seen of it, no.”

  She said nothing more, but listened as he pointed out more monuments. Then he fell silent and they both gazed at the panorama. She wondered if he was as loath to return below as she was—but for different reasons. Was he still thinking of risking his life, while she contemplated the grandeur of God’s earth?

  Hester lifted her face to the cooling breeze on her cheeks, concern for the man beside her weighing on her heart.

  “You’re a curious girl, Hester Leighton.”

  She turned to him, startled to find him observing her. How long had he been doing so? At last his thoughts had shifted from death. Her cheeks grew warm at his continued study. She remembered her father’s warning. “How do you mean?”

  “You give a man a feeling of safety. You don’t know how strange it is for me to say that to a woman. You spoke last night of a man and woman being capable of friendship.” He gave a rueful laugh. “I can almost believe we could be friends.”

  “Why is it so hard to believe? I know lots of boys back home I call my friends.”

  His smile deepened. “Yes, boys. But boys grow into men.”

  The silence between them lengthened. Hester felt as if all she would have to do was take one small step closer and she would feel his lips on hers.

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth. It looked firm yet soft. She’d never been kissed before. Never wanted to…until now.

  “What are you thinking?” His low voice drifted into her awareness.

  She pulled her gaze back up to his. Instead of mockery, she found it curiously intense. “I’ve never had an amorous friendship before.”

  “Is there such a lack of gentlemen in the Maine Territory?”

  She shook her head slowly, unable to tear her eyes away from the tender amusement she read in his. “Quite the contrary. In fact, I believe there are more men than women. Papa knows them all. The young men who work for him are always coming to the house.”

  “I doubt they’re coming to see your father.” His voice was low and teasing. Was he flirting with her? The boys Papa brought home were too mindful of his presence to dare to flirt.

  “I’m not so vain to think they are coming to see me alone. I have sisters.”

  “I think you underestimate your charm.” The humor slowly faded from his eyes and once again, he was looking at her in that way. Before she
could make up her mind what she wanted, he stepped away from her. She felt in those seconds that he had drawn away more than physically. Tapping his fists lightly on the balustrade, his gaze fixed on the city below, he spoke. There was nothing teasing or seductive in his tone now. The words were halting as if he had difficulty formulating them.

  “I…haven’t much of value to offer you, let alone to a wealthy and devout young lady from the—er—former Colonies, but what I have, I offer you.” He half turned to her and held out his hand. “My friendship.”

  Hester stretched out her own hand and felt it engulfed by his. What did the Lord intend with this new friendship? She sensed the major’s deep need, but had little idea how she could help him. The Lord would have to guide her step by step.

  Gerrit returned to St. Paul’s late that night, this time accompanied by a loud group in uniform. They’d come from their usual round of public houses, where Gerrit had done his best to obliterate the image of the innocent maiden he’d spent the afternoon with. He hadn’t realized quite how innocent she was until she’d stood inches from him, her soft lips parted and said, “I’ve never had an amorous friendship before,” as if she were telling him she’d had the measles as a child. Simple candor. She had no idea how to flirt. And, for all his vows to stay away from her, he’d had to exercise every ounce of self-control not to kiss her.

  Now, he stood where he had been hours earlier with Miss Leighton as they’d gazed over London. He smiled, unable to help remembering how pleasurable he’d found her company.

  The breeze was sharper and cooler than it had been in the afternoon. The lights of the city twinkled for miles around them, although it was still twilight.

  A young corporal’s voice intruded Gerrit’s thoughts. “All right, gentlemen, the bet is this. Twenty crowns for whoever can walk along this balustrade for twenty paces without falling off.” At the last words everyone burst out laughing, knowing a fall would be fatal.

  “A crown a foot!” Laughter followed.

  Gerrit had proposed the challenge in the taproom. Here, in the dimming light, Gerrit looked below him. The cathedral’s straight sides fell more than a hundred feet before coming to the roof of the transept and nave. From there a body would doubtless bounce off and continue falling the remaining hundred feet or so to the ground.