The working-men in the East End were
sitting at their doors smoking their pipes and reading their Sunday
papers; but when I reached the West all the church bells were ringing,
and people wearing black clothes and shiny black gloves were walking
with measured steps through the wide courtyard that led to the chapel.
I will not say that I did not feel some qualms at entering a Protestant
church, yet as soon as I had taken my seat and looked up at the gallery
of the organ, where the children sat tier on tier, so quaint and
sweet--the boys like robins in their bright red waistcoats, and the
girls like rabbits in their mob-caps with fluted frills--and the service
began, and the fresh young voices rose in hymns of praise to the good
Father of us all, I thought Of nothing except the joy of seeing Isabel
there some day and hearing her singing in the choir.
When the service was over I asked for the secretary and was shown into
his room.
I dare say he was a good man, but oh! why will so many good people wear
such wintry weather in their faces that merely to look at them pierces a
poor woman to the soul?
Apologising for the day, I told my story again (my head a little down),
saying I understood that it was no barrier to a child in that orphanage
that she had been born outside the pale of the law.
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