Part 4 (2/2)
”Don't anybody know for true?” A despair quenched the suns.h.i.+ne in the brown eyes and made outer darkness.
”An' how they get there?” continued Bess breathlessly. ”That's what we wanter know, 'cause Dil wants to go an' take me. Is it very, very far?”
Travis glanced at Dil. Never in his life had he been more at loss. There was a line between her brows, and the wrinkled nose added to the weight of thoughtfulness. Never had he seen a few wrinkles express so much.
She felt as if he was questioning her.
”I went to the Mission School, you see,” she began to explain. ”The teacher read about a woman who took her children an' a girl who lived with her, an' started for heaven. Then Owny took my shoes, 'cause 'twas wet an' slushy 'n' I couldn't go, an' so I didn't hear if they got there. 'N' when I went again, that teacher had gone away. I didn't like the new wan. When I ast her she said it was a gory somethin', an' you didn't go that way to heaven now.”
”An allegory, yes.”
”Then, what's that?”
”A story of something that _may_ happen, like every-day events.” Ah, how could he meet the comprehension of these innocent children?
”Well, did she get there?” with eager haste.
The sparrows went on with their cheerful, rather aggressive chirp. The fountain played, people pa.s.sed to and fro, and wagons rumbled; but it seemed to John Travis as if there were only themselves in the wide world-and G.o.d. He did not understand G.o.d, but he knew then there was some supreme power above man.
”Yes,” with reverent gentleness, ”yes, she found heaven.”
”Then, what's to hinder us, Dil? 'Twouldn't be any use to ast mother-she'd rather go to Cunny Island or Mis' MacBride's. If you only would tell us the way-”
”Yes; if you _could_ tell us the way,” said Dil wistfully, raising her entreating eyes.
Could he direct any one on the road to heaven? And then he admitted to himself that he had cast away the faint clew of years agone, and would not know what step to take first.
”You see,” explained Dil hurriedly, ”I thought when we'd found just how to go, I'd take Bess some Sunday mornin', an' we'd go up by Cent'l Park and over by the river, 'cause they useter sing 'One more river to cross.' Then we'd get on a ferry-boat. Mother wouldn't care much. She don't care for Bess since she's hurted, and won't never be no good. But I could take care of her; an' when we struck the right way, 'twould be just goin' straight along. I could scrub an' 'tend babies an' sweep an'
earn some money. People was good to the woman in the story, an' mebbe they'd be good to us when we were on the road an' no mistake. If we could just get started.”
Oh, the eager, appealing desire in her face, the faith and fervor in her voice! A poor little pilgrim, not even knowing what the City of Destruction meant, longing with all her soul to set out for that better country, and take her poor little crippled sister. It moved him beyond anything he had ever known, and blurred the suns.h.i.+ne with a tremulous mistiness.
Dil was watching the varying expressions.
”O mister, ain't there any heaven? Will we have to go on living in Barker's Court forever 'n' ever?”
The despair in Dil's voice was heartrending. John Travis thought he had pa.s.sed one hour of crucial anguish; but it was as nothing to this, inasmuch as the pang of the soul must exceed the purely physical pain.
He drew a long, quivering breath.
”Oh, there ain't any!”
He was on the witness stand. To destroy their hope would be a crueler murder than that of the innocents. No, he dared not deny G.o.d.
III-THE WAY TO HEAVEN
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