Stranica 137 [137]
95
As the lady had stated her intention of
screaming, of course she would have
screamed at this additional boldness, but
that the exertion was rendered unneces¬
sary by a hasty knocking at the door,
which was no sooner heard than Mr.
Bumble darted with much agility to the
wine-bottles, and began dusting them
with great violence, while the matron
sharply demanded who was there. It is
worthy of remark, as a curious physical
instance of the efficacy of a sudden sur¬
prise in counteracting the effects of fear,
that her voice had quite recovered all its
official asperity.
“If you please, mistress,” said a with¬
ered old female pauper, swesszont! ugly.
putting her head in at the door, “ old Sally
is a-going fast.”
cc Well, what’s that to me?” angrily
demanded the matron. “I can’t keep her
alive, can IV?
“‘ No, no, mistress,” replied the old wo¬
man, raising her hand, “ nobody can; she’s
far beyond the reach of help. I’ve seen
many a people die, little babes and great
strong men, and I know when death’s
a-coming well enough. But she’s trou¬
bled in her mind; and when the fits are
not on her, and that’s not often, for she is
dying very hard,—she says she has got
something to tell which you must hear.
She "11 never die quiet till you come, mis¬
tress.” |
At this intelligence the worthy Mrs.
Corney muttered a variety of invectives
against old women who couldn’t even die
without purposely annoying their betters;
and, muffling herself in a thick shawl
which she hastily caught up, briefly re¬
quested Mr. Bumble to stop till she came
back, lest anything particular should oc¬
cur, and bidding the messenger walk fast,
and not be all night hobbling up the stairs,
followed her from the room with a very ill
grace, scolding all the way.
Mr. Bumble’s conduct, on being left to
himself, was rather inexplicable. He
opened the closet, counted the teaspoons,
weighed the sugar-tongs, closely inspect¬
ed a silver milk-pot to ascertain that it
was of the genuine metal; and, having
satisfied his curiosity upon these points,
ok on his cocked-hat corner-wise, and
anced with much gravity four distinct
times round the table. Having gone
through this very extraordinary perform¬
ance, he took off the cocked-hat again,
and, spreading himself before the fire
mentally engaged in taking an exact in¬
ventory of the furniture.
CHAPTER THE SECOND.
Treats of a very poor subject, but is a short one,
and may be found of importance in this history.
Ir was no unfit messenger of death that
had disturbed the quiet of the matron’s
room. Her body was bent by age, her
limbs trembled with palsy, and her face,
distorted into a mumbling leer, resembled
more the grotesque shaping of some wild
pencil than the work of Nature’s hand.
Alas! how few of Nature’s faces there
are to gladden us with their beauty! The
cares, and sorrows, and hungerings of the
world change them as Seis thine hearts,
and it is only when those passions sleep,
and have lost their hold for ever, that the
troubled clouds pass off, and leave hea¬
ven’s surface clear. It is a common
thing for the countenances of the dead,
even in that fixed and rigid state, to sub¬
side into the long-forgotten expression of
sleeping infancy, and settle into the very
look of early life; so calm, so peaceful
do they grow again, that those who knew
them in their happy childhood kneel by
the coffin’s side in awe, and see the angel
even upon earth.
The old crone tottered along the pas¬
sages and up the stairs, muttering some
indistinct answers to the chidings of her
companion ; and, being at length compel¬
led to pause for breath, gave the light
into her hand, and remained behind to
follow as she might, while the more nim¬
ble superior be 5 her way to the room
where the sick woman lay.
It was a bare garret-room, with a dim
light burning at the farther end. There
was another old woman watching by the
bed, and the parish apothecary’s appren¬
tice was standing by the fire, making a
toothpick out of a quill.
“Cold night, Mrs. Corney,” said this
young gentleman as the matron entered.
“Very cold indeed, sir,” replied the
mistress in her most civil tones, and
dropping a curtsey as she spoke.
“ You should get better coals out of
your contractors,” said the apothecary’s
deputy, breaking a lump on the top of
the fire with the rusty poker; “ these are
not at all the sort of thing for a cold
night.”
6 They "re the board’s choosing, sir,”
returned the matron. " The least they
could do would be to keep us pretty
warm, for our places are hard enough.”
The conversation was here interrupted
by a moan from the sick woman.
6 Oh!" said the young man, turni
his face towards the , as if he ha