Paul Prescott's Charge
Page 14
XIV.
A STRANGE BED-CHAMBER.
Although Paul could not help being vexed at having been so cleverlytaken in by his late companion, he felt the better for having eaten theoysters. Carefully depositing his only remaining coin in his pocket, heresumed his wanderings. It is said that a hearty meal is a good promoterof cheerfulness. It was so in Paul's case, and although he had as yethad no idea where he should find shelter for the night he did not allowthat consideration to trouble him.
So the day passed, and the evening came on. Paul's appetite returned tohim once more. He invested one-half of his money at an old woman's stallfor cakes and apples, and then he ate leisurely while leaning againstthe iron railing which encircles the park.
He began to watch with interest the movements of those about him.Already the lamplighter had started on his accustomed round, and withladder in hand was making his way from one lamp-post to another. Paulquite marvelled at the celerity with which the lamps were lighted, neverbefore having witnessed the use of gas. He was so much interested in theprocess that he sauntered along behind the lamplighter for some time. Atlength his eye fell upon a group common enough in our cities, but new tohim.
An Italian, short and dark-featured, with a velvet cap, was grinding outmusic from a hand-organ, while a woman with a complexion equallydark, and black sorrowful-looking eyes, accompanied her husband on thetambourine. They were playing a lively tune as Paul came up, but quicklyglided into "Home, Sweet Home."
Paul listened with pleased, yet sad interest, for him "home" was only asad remembrance.
He wandered on, pausing now and then to look into one of the brilliantlyilluminated shop windows, or catching a glimpse through the open doorsof the gay scene within, and as one after another of these lively scenespassed before him, he began to think that all the strange and wonderfulthings in the world must be collected in these rich stores.
Next, he came to a place of public amusement. Crowds were enteringconstantly, and Paul, from curiosity, entered too. He passed on to alittle wicket, when a man stopped him.
"Where's your ticket?" he asked.
"I haven't got any," said Paul.
"Then what business have you here?" said the man, roughly.
"Isn't this a meeting-house?" asked Paul.
This remark seemed to amuse two boys who were standing by. Looking upwith some indignation, Paul recognized in one of them the boy who hadcheated him out of the oysters.
"Look here," said Paul, "what made you go off and leave me to pay forthe oysters this morning?"
"Which of us do you mean?" inquired the 'governor's son,' carelessly.
"I mean you."
"Really, I don't understand your meaning. Perhaps you mistake me forsomebody else."
"What?" said Paul, in great astonishment. "Don't you remember me, andhow you told me you were the Governor's son?"
Both boys laughed.
"You must be mistaken. I haven't the honor of being related to thedistinguished gentleman you name."
The speaker made a mocking bow to Paul.
"I know that," said Paul, with spirit, "but you said you were, for allthat."
"It must have been some other good-looking boy, that you are mistakingme for. What are you going to do about it? I hope, by the way, that theoysters agreed with you."
"Yes, they did," said Paul, "for I came honestly by them."
"He's got you there, Gerald," said the other boy.
Paul made his way out of the theater. As his funds were reduced totwelve cents, he could not have purchased a ticket if he had desired it.
Still he moved on.
Soon he came to another building, which was in like manner lighted up,but not so brilliantly as the theater. This time, from the appearanceof the building, and from the tall steeple,--so tall that his eye couldscarcely reach the tapering spire,--he knew that it must be a church.There was not such a crowd gathered about the door as at the place hehad just left, but he saw a few persons entering, and he joined them.The interior of the church was far more gorgeous than the plain villagemeeting-house which he had been accustomed to attend with his mother. Hegazed about him with a feeling of awe, and sank quietly into a backpew. As it was a week-day evening, and nothing of unusual interest wasanticipated, there were but few present, here and there one, scatteredthrough the capacious edifice.
By-and-by the organist commenced playing, and a flood of music, granderand more solemn than he had ever heard, filled the whole edifice. Helistened with rapt attention and suspended breath till the last notedied away, and then sank back upon the richly cushioned seat with afeeling of enjoyment.
In the services which followed he was not so much interested. Theofficiating clergyman delivered a long homily in a dull unimpassionedmanner, which failed to awaken his interest. Already disposed to bedrowsy, it acted upon him like a gentle soporific. He tried to payattention as he had always been used to do, but owing to his occupying aback seat, and the low voice of the preacher, but few words reached him,and those for the most part were above his comprehension.
Gradually the feeling of fatigue--for he had been walking the streetsall day--became so powerful that his struggles to keep awake becameharder and harder. In vain he sat erect, resolved not to yield. Themoment afterwards his head inclined to one side; the lights began toswim before his eyes; the voice of the preacher subsided into a low andundistinguishable hum. Paul's head sank upon the cushion, his bundle,which had been his constant companion during the day, fell softly to thefloor, and he fell into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile the sermon came to a close, and another hymn was sung, buteven the music was insufficient to wake our hero now. So the benedictionwas pronounced, and the people opened the doors of their pews and leftthe church.
Last of all the sexton walked up and down the aisles, closing such ofthe pew doors as were open. Then he shut off the gas, and afterlooking around to see that nothing was forgotten, went out, apparentlysatisfied, and locked the outer door behind him.
Paul, meanwhile, wholly unconscious of his situation, slept on astranquilly as if there were nothing unusual in the circumstances inwhich he was placed. Through the stained windows the softened light fellupon his tranquil countenance, on which a smile played, as if his dreamswere pleasant. What would Aunt Lucy have thought if she could have seenher young friend at this moment?