Waiting with multitudes of others, Christine and Dennis at last received an army biscuit (hardtack in the soldier's vernacular) and a tin-cup of what resembled coffee. To him it was very touching to see how eagerly she received this coarse fare, proving that she was indeed almost famished. Too weak to stand, they sat down near the door on the sidewalk. A kind lady presently came and said, "If you have no place to go you will find it more comfortable in the church."
They gladly availed themselves of her permission, as the thronged street was anything but pleasant.
"Mr. Fleet," said Christine, "I am now going to take care of you in return for your care last night," and she led him up to a secluded part of the church by the organ, arranged some cushions on a seat, and then continued: "As I have obeyed you, so you must now be equally docile. Don't you dare move from that place till I call you;" and she left him.
He was indeed wearied beyond expression, and most grateful for a chance to rest. This refuge and the way it was secured seemed almost a heavenly experience, and he thought with deepest longing, "If we could always take care of each other, I should be perhaps too well satisfied with this earthly life."
When after a little time Christine returned he was sleeping as heavily as he had done before upon the beach, but the smile his last thought occasioned still rested on his face.
For some little time she also sat near and rested, and her eyes sought his face as if a story were written there that she never could finish. Then she went to make inquiries after her father. But no one to whom she spoke knew anything about him.
Bread and other provisions were constantly arriving, but not fast enough to meet the needs of famishing thousands. Though not feeling very strong she offered her services, and was soon busily engaged. All present were strangers to her, but, when they learned from the inquiries for her father that she was Miss Ludolph, she was treated with deference and sympathy. But she assumed nothing, and as her strength permitted, during the day, she was ready for any task, even the humblest. She handed food around among the hungry, eager applicants, with such a sweet and pitying face that she heard many a murmured blessing. Her efforts were all the more appreciated as all saw that she too had passed through the fire and had suffered deeply. At last a kind, motherly lady said: "My dear, you look ready to drop. Here, take this," and she poured out a glass of wine and gave her a sandwich; "now, go and find some quiet nook and rest. It's your duty."
"I have a friend who has suffered almost everything in saving me. He is asleep now, but he has had scarcely anything to eat for nearly three days, and I know he will be very hungry when he wakes."
"Nothing to eat for three days! Why, you must take him a whole loaf, and this, and this," cried the good lady, about to provision Dennis for a month.
"Oh, no," said Christine, with a smile, "so much would not be good for him. If you will give me three or four sandwiches, and let me come for some coffee when he wakes, it will be sufficient;" and she carried what now seemed treasures to where Dennis was sleeping, and sat down with a happy look in her face.