My master started, and raised his head for a minute. Then it sank again. Afterward, I heard the explanation. A preacher who had come from a long way off, had heard of the teasing echo in the cathedral, and he was testing his voice. Every word he said seemed to be repeated. The immense building now looks as if it were cut in two, for it is only half finished. When it is quite done in years to come, the echo, it is said, will disappear.
I did not understand the words, but my master did. He listened intently, and I, who had got to know him so well, knew that a change was coming over his spirit. He was being comforted.
After a while the preacher followed the organist, and left the cathedral, but still my master did not go home. I might have pulled his coat and reminded him of the passage of time, but I judged that this was not a case for my interference. I kept curled up on his feet, so they would not get chilled from the stone pavement, and there we sat, hour after hour, till I fell asleep.
After a time I felt his feet stirring, then he got up, found his hat, and groping his way to the big doors, began to walk up and down, up and down, very slowly and thoughtfully. I went to a corner and lay down, and it did not seem very long before the doors were opened for an early service. We were free. I gave him a long, searching glance, as we emerged from the cathedral grounds to broad Amsterdam Avenue. He was a different man. Something had happened in the church.
With a firm, free stride, he struck across the avenue, past Columbia University and Broadway to the Drive. He was in a terrible hurry to get home.
“Boy,” he said looking down at me with a light on his face I had not seen there since the accident to my mistress, “it’s all right now—happiness or sorrow. I shall not repine, but I feel as if we were going to receive good news.”
I was so glad he said “we” and not “I.” It made me feel a part of his family. I had to run to keep up with him at last. It seemed as if he could not go fast enough. When we got to the apartment house, and he entered the elevator which was always too speedy a one for my comfort, he acted as if he thought it was going slowly.
He whipped out his latch-key, and stepped very quickly to the parlour, and there on the table that always stood between him and his wife, lay a telegram.