The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1904-03-10
CHAPTER XIV.

In our last chapter, there was Sunday
service of q peculiar character held un-
der a railway arch, In one of the dark
est streets of a dark neighborhood lying
between the Lower Marsh and the York
road, Lambeth. The place of worship,
the worshipers, and the one who preach
ed and prayed were all strange together,
and there was much for skin-deep piety
to protest against, and for irreverence 10
scOff and jeer at. 1t was only the down
right earnestness of these fugitive atoms
scraped together here that put forth its
claims to the respect of those who had
time to think of the odd forms In which
religion may assert itself Amongst the
myriads who turn their backs on church
or chapel orthodox, there are still few
with courage to seek God In some fash
ion.
OF the tenets of this community 1t is
not our purpose or right to inquire too
closely in these pages. The preaching
was simple, the earnestness was manifest,
the one text seemed forgiveness to sin
ners, and the one appeal was for their
repentance before the hour was too late.
That which was most remarkable in the
service was the fact of its being conduct
ed by q woman-a sallow, hollow-eyed
female-with a touch of fanaticism in her
extravagant gestures and her high-pitch-
ed voice, and in the sermon which she
preached to ragged and unkempt men,
women and children, three-fourths of
whom were full of grave, deep inter-
est and the remaining fraction very
noisy, and watching its opportunity to
turn a portion of the discourse into ridi-
cule.
These discontents were huddled togeth-
er near the door, a grinning, coughing,
and grimacing mob, whilst over their
heads. peered occasionally a policeman's
helmet, a sign of peace and order, that
was followed by much horse play and
ironical comment on the proceedings, af-
ter 1t disappeared.
1t had been noisy night at Jennings
railway arch where we resume our
story; the preacher had been more than
usually powerful and the opposition more
than commonly opposed to her; but tie
service had reached its conclusion, From
the background of the congregation there
stepped suddenly TALL well-dressed
young woman with her veil down, and
room was made for her into the inner cir
Gle Of rags and tatters by which Lucy
Jennings was surrounded.
MAY | speak to you for a few mo-
ments in private?" asked the stranger In
q low voice.
There was a low breath of astonish-
ment, as Lucy Jennings surveyed our
heroine. Sarah Eastbell had certainly
changed in two years-for the better, too,
being tall, healthy, handsome young
woman now; but she had not altered out
Of all knowledge of her friends and ac-
quaintances. There was the same steady
outlook from the dark eyes; there was
something of the same sadness, or depth
of thought, expressed upon her face,
though the pallor had passed away, and
there was faint rose tinges on the cheeks,
which Lucy had seen last wasted with
fever from which she had helped to save
herd
II know you by your voice." said Miss
Jenninfs, stolidly, "and have a mem-
ory that does not fail me. l am above
taking offense with any living soul, or
attributing to any human being motives |
for actions which have not been explain |
ed" said Lucy Jennings; "but l cannot, |
on the Lords DAY. will not under any |
Observation-Disclosures myself to anything |
but his service"
She crossed her thin hands upon the
bosom of her dress, and looked up at
the stained roof Of the railway arch, over
which a heavy Southwestern train was
rumbling at the moment.
Il will call on you tomorrow, if you
will give me your address," said Sarah !
Eastbell.
Lucy Jennings hesitated before she an |
swered, as though an insuperable objec- |
tion to renew their acquaintance assert |
ed itself too strongly to be resisted; then
she said:
II shall be in Hope street tomorrow
at eleven, will wait for you there"
Lucy Jennings moved her head slight |
ly, and Sarah Eastbell left her surround !
ed by her converts.
AS Sarah went out of the place one
of the unconverted picked her pocket of
a cambric handkerchief, and was disap-
pointed at not finding her purse, which
she had left at home.
Sarah Eastbell was disturbed greatly
by this meeting with Lucy Jennings. |
Her reception had not been what she
had anticipated; there had been a cold |
ness, almost a repulse, in lieu of that
welcome which she had expected at her
hands. Still the young lady from Sedge !
e
be easily daunted, and she had come to
London in hot haste, and only attended |
by her maid, on a mission of Importance |
The next day at eleven she was in |
Hope street, where she had been the day |
before making inquiries, and finding out |
the new vocation of Miss Jennings after |
great deal Of trouble and perseverance. |
Hope street had changed more than her
self In the two years since she had quilted |
the place. The Saxe-Gotha Gardens were
no more, and two rows of small brick |
houses formed a street on their site.
There were railway arches crossing the
road, and in place of the house of Jen-
nings, Fireworks maker to the Court, |
was a black heap of ruins, shored up By |
beams, and fenced around by board |
ing.
At eleven to the minute, Lucy Jen-
nings, in the rustiest of black, and with |
black cotton gloves three sizes too large |
for her, came along the street, striding |
like a man. 1t was with the same in |
flexible cast Of countenanee which daunt- |
ed Sarah Eastbell last night that she |
advanced, and the outstretched hand of |
the younger woman was taken almost |
with reluctance, and afterwards dropped !
coldly.
II hope you will not detain me very
long, Miss Eastbel," said Lucy. "as |
have a great many calls to make this
morning. We will walk Myatts Fields
way; and now 10 save time-for time is
valuable to me-what is your first ques-
tionT
There was no restraint in the reply.
though there was a deepening of color in
the cheeks, as Sarah Eastbell said Gag
erly;
What has become Of Reuben Cul-
wickT
"Is that the first question, next your
heart then7"
"Yes," was the frank answer. "vrbv |