“Yes, you may take one; but, if you want flowers, Maheleth can give you some; she has some growing in her room.”
“No, this one is enough. Good-by, and I will try and see you again.”
As they left the house, Ellice said to his friend:
“Well, Holcombe, you are green! You don't mean to say you believe he is poor?”
“No, I don't believe it; but he will be none the worse off for a few flowers and some good food, if he won't get them for himself.”
“I suppose you remember that [pg 420] there is another invalid in the house, and the same person nurses both?”
“I know what you mean, Ellice, and I wish you wouldn't joke; it is not fair.”
“Very well, old fellow; but, if you were anybody but yourself, I should say ‘take care.’ You always were the steadiest old chap going.”
A day or two afterwards, Holcombe was left alone again; he had sent things to Zimmermann as he had promised; but as yet he had not revisited the Juden-Strasse. On Friday, there was a special service at the Catholic cathedral, at eight o'clock, and the young man, hardly knowing why, determined to go.
The church was only partially lighted, except the chancel, which was dazzling. The music was good, the congregation devout, and the German sermon as interesting as could be expected. The whole effect was very beautiful, and seemed to Henry a peace-giving and heart-soothing one. A rush of voices came breaking in upon his reverie at the Tantum Ergo, and the surging sound was like a mighty utterance of his own feelings. As the priest raised the Host, he bowed his head low, and prayed for peace and guidance; and when he lifted it again the first object his eye fixed on was a slight, dark-robed figure, standing aside in the aisle, drooping her head against one of the columns. He knew the figure well; but, with a strange thrill, he asked himself why was she here? For the music? For the beauty of the sight? For love of a creed she was half ashamed to embrace? Or from the curiosity of a chance passer-by?