The Night Angel by T. Davis Bunn Page A

Nathan Baring as he exited the church. The young man made his way through the black-frocked crowd. “Falconer, how good of you to join us,” he said in his genial way.
    He saw Nathan scout about and saved him the trouble of asking about Serafina. “She is not here.”
    “Pardon?”
    “Miss Gavi. She accompanied her parents to mass.”
    To Falconer’s surprise, the young man did not seem that interested. Nor did he halt his perusal of the crowd. “Ah. The Gavis are papists, are they?”
    “Actually, on Wednesday evenings Miss Gavi worships with the Methodists in Georgetown. She attends Sunday mass out of respect for her parents.”
    “How extraordinary.” The young man’s attention was now riveted upon Falconer. “You mean to say she is genuinely devout?”
    “She is.”
    “Forgive me, sir. It was an impudent question. But one so lovely as Miss Gavi, particularly a European from a titled family . . . well . . . Never mind.”
    Despite his own initial hostility, Falconer found himself liking the gentleman. “I understand perfectly.”
    “Yes, a gentleman of the world like yourself, I should imagine you do.” He went back to searching the crowd. “There was someone I wished for you to meet, though I fear he did not wish to be seen with us.”
    Falconer remained caught up in all he had experienced within the church. “Might I ask you a question?”
    “By all means.”
    “Have you ever heard God speak to you?”
    “What, you mean audibly?” His focus came back once more, calm and penetrating. “What a remarkable question.”
    “I take that as a no.”
    “In a sense. My father, God rest his soul, knew I wished to become a pastor. I took aim at the pulpit when I was just thirteen. All my young life I wanted nothing else. But the morning after my seventeenth birthday, my father brought me into his study and announced that God had spoken to him in the night. I should enter government service, and my brother would be going into the family business. My father asked me to trust him and trust God. But if I refused, he would not object.”
    Nathan Baring turned to let an approaching woman pass, closing the gap between them so they would not be interrupted. “Because I loved him, Mr. Falconer, I could not refuse my father’s request. Though it left me heartsore and wretched.”
    At this close range, Falconer could see the shadow still in the man’s smoky green eyes. “Was your father right?”
    “Upon his deathbed, my father asked me the very same thing. Had he been correct in speaking as he had? I could not lie, not then. I told him I did not yet know. Though eight years had passed since that morning, still God had not revealed to me a purpose I could not also have accomplished through the ministry. Or so it seemed to me. My father said merely, ‘Everything in God’s time.’ Those were his last words, Mr. Falconer. I hope and pray he was right.”
    Falconer felt a sudden bond with the gentleman. “I am not as patient a man as you, Mr. Baring.”
    “I would ask that you call me Nathan.”
    “My friends know me simply as Falconer.” He paused and looked into the face near his. “I could not endure eight years of waiting.”
    Nathan had a diplomat’s manner of saying nothing with great volume. He asked, “What did God say to you, Falconer?”
    “To wait.” Falconer shuddered. Eight years .
    “Will you take advice?”
    “Gladly.”
    “Three things. First, God will not send to you more than you can endure. Second, you will learn immense lessons in your fallow time.”
    “That much I can already attest to. And third?”
    “Thirdly, yes. I should encourage you to not wait in solitude. Speak of your hardship and your need. Pray with others. Find comfort in the company of believers.”
    Falconer offered his hand. “God brought me here this morning with a purpose, Nathan. I am grateful for your advice.”
    “Your words do me great honor.” Nathan Baring did not release his hand. “I apologize for