Stranica 178 [178]
OCR
130 mowers and haymakers were busy at “JT am sorry, sir," stammered Oliver, now and then for a few seconds to recover breath, until he emerged in a great heat, and covered with dust, on the little market-place of the market-town. Here he paused, and looked about for theinn. "There was a white bank, and a red brewery, and a yellow town-hall ; and in one corner a large house with all the wood about it painted green, before which was the sign of " The George," to which he hastened directly it caught his eye. Oliver spoke to a postboy who was dozing under the gateway, and who, after hearing what he wanted, referred him to the hostler ; who, after hearing all he had to say again, referred him to the landlord, who was a tall gentleman in a blue neckcloth, a white hat, drab breeches, and boots with tops to match, and was leaning against a pump by the stabledoor, picking his teeth with a silver toothpick. This gentleman walked with much deliberation to the bar to make out the bill, which took a long time making out, and after it was ready, and paid, a horse had to be saddled, and a man to be dressed, which took up ten good minutes more ; meanwhile Oliver was in such a desperate state of impatience and anxiety that he felt as if he could have jumped upon the horse himself, and galloped away full tear to the next stage. At length all was ready, and the little parcel having been handed up, with many injunctions and entreaties for its speedy delivery, the man set spurs to his horse, and, rattling over the uneven paving of the marketplace, was out of the town, and galloping along the turnpike-road in a couple of minutes. It was something to feel certain that assistance was sent for, and that no time had been lost. Oliver hurried up the innyard with a somewhat lighter heart, and was turning out of the gateway when he accidentally stumbled against a tail man wrapped in a cloak, who was at that moment coming out at the inn-door. “ Hah!” cried the man, fixing his eyes on Oliver, and suddenly recoiling. ** What the devil ’s this ?” 6] beg your pardon, sir," said Oliver; “T was in a great hurry to get home, and did nt see you were coming.” * Death!" mutter :d the man to himself, glaring at the boy with his large dark eyes. " Who d have thought it! Grind him to ashes! he’d start up from a marble coffin to ene in my way!" | “ T hope I have not hurt you?” “Rot his bones!” murmured the man in a horrible passion between his clenched teeth, “If I had only had the courage to say the word, I might have been free of him in a night. Curses light upon your head, and black death upon your heart, you imp! What are you doing here?" The man shook his fist, and gnashed his teeth, as he uttered these words incoherently, and advancing towards Oliver as if with the intention of aiming a blow at him, fell violently on the ground, writhing and foaming, in a fit. Oliver gazed for a moment at the fearful struggles of the madman, (for such he supposed him to be,) and then darted into the house for help. Having seen him safely carried into the hotel, he turned his face homewards, running as fast as he could to make up for lost time, and recalling, with a great deal of astonishment and some fear, the extraordinary behaviour of the person from whom he had just parted. The circumstance did not dwell in his recollection long, however; for when he reached the cottage there was enough to occupy his mind, and to drive all considerations of self completely from his meRose Maylie had rapidly grown worse, and before midnight was delirious. A spot, was in constant attendance upon her, and, after first seeing the patient, he nounced her disorder to be one of a most alarming nature. § In fact,” he said, “it would be little short of a miracle if she recovered.” How often did Oliver start from his bed that night, and, stealing out with noiseless footstep to the staircase, listen for the slightest sound from the sick chamber! How often did a tremble shake his frame, and cold drops of terror start upon his brow, when a sudden trampling of feet caused him to fear that something too dreadful to think of had even then occurred. And what had been the fervency of all the prayers he had ever ut tered, compared with those he poured forth now, in the agony and passion of his supplication, for the life and health of the gentle creature who was tottering on the deep grave’s verge! The suspense, the fearful acute suspense, of standing idly by while the life
