Stranica 137 [137]
OCR
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 unnecessary 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 surprise in counteracting the effects of fear, that her voice had quite recovered all its official asperity. “If you please, mistress,” said a withered 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 woman, 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 troubled 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, mistress.” | 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 requested Mr. Bumble to stop till she came back, lest anything particular should occur, 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 inspected 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 performance, he took off the cocked-hat again, and, spreading himself before the fire mentally engaged in taking an exact inventory 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 heaven’s surface clear. It is a common thing for the countenances of the dead, even in that fixed and rigid state, to subside 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 passages and up the stairs, muttering some indistinct answers to the chidings of her companion ; and, being at length compelled to pause for breath, gave the light into her hand, and remained behind to follow as she might, while the more nimble 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 apprentice 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
