IT was even so. Christopher, in the midst of his distress and fear,
had not observed that the service was concluded. He had slipped out of
sight behind a piece of projecting masonry, so as not to be noticed,
and the first sound that aroused him to his true position was the
closing and locking of the heavy outer door. Even then, he did not
think of being locked in. He heard the bustle outside gradually die
away, but he never thought that he was being left alone.
"Ozzy!" he whispered, timidly. There was no answer. "Ozzy," he said, in
a louder tone, "hadn't we better go out now? I believe every one has
gone away. I don't hear any one moving. Oh, Ozzy, do speak to me!"
But Ozzy was far enough away by that time. Christopher could hardly be
convinced that he was left alone. At first the vault was perfectly dark
to him, but as his eyes became more accustomed to the place, he could
perceive that a little light came in from a hole over the door filled
in with thick glass, and also from the top. There was what is called
a ventilating shaft to the vault—a tall shaft like a chimney going up
from the centre of the roof through the hill, and for quite a distance
above it. At the sides of this shafts at the top, were four openings
for air, and through these, a little light penetrated, and fell on the
white floor of the vault. Christopher went towards it, and found he
could see still more plainly. Yes, Osric had certainly gone and left
him alone.
Christopher sprang to the door, determined to get out at all hazards.
He opened the inner door easily enough, but the outer one resisted all
his efforts. He shook it and called till he was perfectly exhausted,
but no one heard him. The nearest person was a quarter of a mile away.
He stopped and listened. He could hear the rushing of the water over
the dam, the singing of the birds, and the distant sound of wheels.
The mills were not running to-day, and there would be nobody at the
saw-mill, which was the nearest building, but surely some one must hear
him and come to take him out of that dreadful place, and once more he
began to cry and to pound the door, but it was all of no use.
Spent and exhausted at last, he sat down on the ground in dumb despair
and hid his face on his knees. When he looked up again the place was
perceptibly darker. The sun had gone down behind the hill, and as the
vault fronted the east, the place was in deep shadow. He heard strange
twitterings, and every few minutes a noise like distant thunder. He
sprang up once more, for he was afraid of thunder, and the thought of
passing through a thunder-storm in that place was unbearable. He shook
and beat the door, but in vain. And once more throwing himself on the
floor, this time on his face, he cried aloud, calling alternately
on Osric and on his mother to come to him. The tears relieved him.
He cried himself into quietness, and at last he sat up, and wiping
his eyes, he began to think what he had better do: but with all his
thinking, he could come to no conclusion.
He could not get out by his own efforts, that was certain; unless
somebody came after him, he had no better prospect than to stay there
and starve. There were two or three chances for him.
One was that Osric would tell the story, when of course, he would be
released very soon. As he considered the matter, he felt sure that
Osric would not get back to the school-house before recess was over.
Then, he would have to give an account of himself, and perhaps he would
tell the truth. But then Osric was so afraid of being found fault with,
and, besides that, he might not have known that Christopher was left
in the vault. He might suppose him safe at home all the time. Nobody
had seen the two boys, that Christopher knew of; and even when he was
missed, nobody would think of looking for him there. They would think
he had fallen into the river, or that he had started to go home through
the woods and got lost, but they would never, never think of him
sitting all alone in General Dent's burial-vault.
There was another hope, though not a very cheering one. Christopher
considered that all the other coffins were placed in recesses in the
wall, of which several still remained empty, while Miss Lilla's had
been set on the floor. He looked round, and even now he could see a ray
of light reflected from the silver cross on which the dead girl's name
was engraved. Christopher did not think they could mean to leave it
there. He thought it likely that somebody would come next day to place
it in one of the recesses, or to dispose of it in some other way. If
he could live till that time! But then, he remembered that very likely
nothing would be done for several days. Perhaps they might wait till
the marble slab was made ready with Miss Lilla's name and age on it,
and how could he live for three or four days in that close air, and
without anything to eat or drink?
Christopher's imagination had something to do with the closeness of the
place, for it was, in reality, better ventilated than most cellars.
It was cold and damp, however, and he was hungry and thirsty, and all
alone, with no very probable chance of escape: there was no imagination
in that.
All at once, Christopher remembered that he had two doughnuts in his
pockets. They would keep him from starving for a little while at least.
He would eat a part of one now, and keep the rest as long as he could.
But he was only a little boy, and hungry, and the doughnuts tasted very
good, and before he had decided, he had eaten the whole of one of them,
and came very near eating the other. He restrained himself, however,
put the doughnut away in his cap, which he laid in one corner of the
doorway, and again began to think.
All at once he heard the mill-bell ring. It was six o'clock, then.
Every one would be going home to supper. His mother would have the
table all ready, with the pitcher of new milk, the sweet-smelling
loaf of bread, and all the other good things, and every one would be
wondering what had become of Christopher. David would be called, and
would go all over the village asking for him. Well, Miss Hilliard would
know that he had gone out with Osric after a pail of water. David would
go out to Mr. Dennison's and question Osric, and so the truth would
come out. Oh yes, they would certainly find him before long; but,
meantime, how unhappy his poor mother would feel, and how grieved she
would be to hear that he had been such a wicked boy!
Only that morning he had resolved that he would be so good, and yet
he had allowed himself to be led away by the first temptation. He had
deceived Miss Hilliard, who had always been so kind to him; he had
disobeyed his dear, good mother, and displeased his heavenly Father,
and all because he was afraid of Osric Dennison, who had led him into
all this trouble, and left him to get out the best way he could.
Christopher burst into tears again, but this time they were tears of
genuine repentance. He had been well brought up so far. He had been to
Sunday-school all his life, and his mother had taught him to say his
prayers, and had read the Bible with him ever since he could remember.
The Sunday-school at Boonville was an old-fashioned one, where the
children came to learn, and not to be "interested" or entertained. They
learned their seven verses a week, and said them to their teacher on
Sunday, and the elder ones found proof-texts on subjects given out by
the superintendent, and committed to memory psalms and hymns.
Consequently, Christopher knew a good deal of the Bible for a child of
his age. He felt that he had done very wrong. He had been very wicked.
Nobody but God could help him now, and God was angry with him. Miss
Lilla was in heaven with her Saviour and the holy angels even now,
while her body lay there in the grave where he was, as it were, buried
alive with her, but if he were to die there! Oh, why did not somebody
come? It must be almost dark now. He could not see, at all. They must
have heard where he was by this time: why did not somebody come to take
him out? Must he stay there all night? Must he stay till he starved to
death or died of the chill and the damp air? He was not strong, and
he sometimes had fainting fits, and he had once heard his mother say
that he might die in these fits unless he had help directly. Suppose he
should have one now?
Just at this moment he remembered the words which had so affected him
in the funeral service: "Of whom may we seek for succour, but of thee,
O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased?" That was true. Of whom
else could he seek for help? Nobody else could give him any aid; but if
God were his Friend, no real harm could happen to him. Even if he were
to die, he should be quite safe, for the angels would carry him away
from that dreary place to the light and joy of heaven. But would God
forgive him? Was there any use in asking after he had been so wicked?
"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our
sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Christopher had
heard those words more times than he could remember, but he had never
attached any particular meaning to them. Now they came to him as a
messenger from on high. He set himself to think of other promises to
the same effect, and he remembered a great many.
"I said I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord, and thou
forgavest the iniquity of my sin."
"Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners."
"He is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God
by him."
There seemed to be no end to the texts he could remember.
"That must mean me, because I am a sinner! It must be true—he says so!
Oh, if I had only minded before! But I know he can help me even now, as
he did Daniel and the three Hebrew children, if he sees it right."
Christopher raised his head. The full moon had risen, and a pale beam
of light came through the thick glass over the outer door and shone on
the white coffin. He went and knelt down by the side of it, feeling
that even Miss Lilla's dead body was some company for him.
He prayed that his sins might be forgiven and washed away; that he
might be released from that place and taken back to his mother, if it
was his Father's will; and if not, that he might be taken to heaven;
and that he might not be afraid to die when the time came. He prayed
for his mother and all his friends, and for Osric, and finally, quieted
by his prayers and worn out by fatigue, he laid his head down upon the
soft plush which covered Miss Lilla's last resting-place and fell fast
asleep.