Oldal 191 [191]
OCR
141 tc Drive on!” he cried, “ hard, fast, full llop. Nothing short of flying will Peep ace with me to-day.” “ Holloa!” cried the doctor, letting down the front glass in a great hurry, and shouting to the postilion, “ something very far short of flying will keep pace with me. Do you hear?” Jingling and clattering till distance rendered its noise inaudible, and its rapid progress only perceptible to the eye, the vehicle wound its way along the road almost hidden in a cloud of dust, now wholly disappearing, and now becoming visible again, as intervening objects or the intricacies of the way permitted. It was not until even the dusty cloud was no longer to be seen, that the gazers dispersed. And there was one looker-on, who remained with eyes fixed upon the spot where the carriage had disappeared, long after it was many miles away ; for behind the white curtain which had shrouded her from view, when Harry raised his eyes towards the window, sat Rose herself. “ He seems in high spirits and happy,” she said at length. “I feared for a time he might be otherwise. I was mistaken. I am very, very glad.” Tears are signs of gladness as well as grief but those which coursed down Rose’s ce as she sat pensively at the window, still pezing in the same direction, seemed to tell more of sorrow, than of joy. A — et 7TÉSr, e CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH, In which the reader, if he or she resort to the fifth chapter of this second book, will perceive a contrast not uncommon in matrimonial cases. Mr. BUMBLE sat in the workhouse parlour, with his eyes moodily fixed on the cheerless grate, whence, as it was summer time, no brighter gleam proceeded than the reflection of certain sickly rays of the sun, which were sent back from its cold and shining surface. A paper flycage dangled from the ceiling, to which he occasionally raised his eyes in gloomy thought; and, as the heedless insects hovered round the gaudy net-work, Mr. Bumble would heave a deep sigh, while a more gloomy shadow overspread his countenance. Mr. Bumble was meditating, and it might be that the insects brought to mind some painful passage in his own past life. Nor was Mr. Bumble’s gloom the only thing calculated to awaken a pleasing melancholy in the bosom of a spectator, There were not wanting other appearances, and those closely connected with his own person, which announced that a great change had taken place in the position of his affairs. The laced coat and the cocked hat, where were they? He still wore knee-breeches and dark cotton stockings on his nether limbs, but they were not the breeches, The coat was wideskirted, and in that respect like the coat, but, oh, how different! The mighty cocked hat was replaced by a modest round one. Mr. Bumble was no longer a beadle. There are some promotions in life which, independent of the more substantial rewards they offer, acquire peculiar value and dignity from the coats and waistcoats connected with them. A _ field-marshal has his uniform, a bishop his silk apron, a counsellor his silk gown, a beadle his cocked hat. Strip the bishop of his apron, or the beadle of his cocked hat and gold lace, what are they? Men,—mere men. Dignity, and even holiness too, sometimes, are more questions of coat and waistcoat than some people imagine. Mr. Bumble had married Mrs. Corney, and was master of the workhouse. Another beadle had come into power, and on him the cocked hat, gold-laced coat, and staff, had all three descended. “And to-morrow two months it was done!” said Mr. Bumble, with a sigh. “Tt seems a age.” Mr. Bumble might have meant that he had concentrated a whole existence of happiness into the short space of eight weeks; but the sigh—there was a vast deal of meaning in the sigh. “T sold myself,” said Mr. Bumble, pursuing the same train of reflection, * for six tea-spoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a | milk-pot, with a small quantity of secondhand furniter, and twenty pound in money. I went very reasonable—cheap, dirt cheap.” | “Cheap!” cried a shrill voice in Mr. Bumble’s ear: “You would have been | dear at any price; and dear enough I paid for you, Lord above knows that.” Mr. Bumble turned and encountered the face of his interesting companion, who, imperfectly comprehending the few words she had overheard of his complaint, had hazarded the foregoing remark at a venture. 6 Mrs. Bumble, ma’am!” said Mr. Bum. | ble, with sentimental sternness. 79 .
