The high arched door was never
opened of late years, except at long intervals, when some one came out
from the city to hold services. But the side door was certainly ajar
now, for the saddest music that John Jay had ever heard in all his life
came trembling out on the warm summer air.
Forgetting all about his errand, he scrambled through the fence and up
the gently rising knoll. His bare feet made no noise as he tiptoed up
the steps and stood peering through the open door. It was dim and cool
inside, with only the light that could sift through the violet and amber
of the stained glass windows; but in one, the big one at the end, was
the figure of a snowy dove, with outstretched wings. Through this
silvery pane a long slanting ray of light, dazzling in its white
radiance, streamed across the keys of the organ and the man who played
them,--the Reverend George.
It threw a strange light on the upturned face,--a face black as ebony,
worn with suffering, but showing in every feature the refining touch of
a noble spirit.
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