书城公版THE PICKWICK PAPERS
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第117章

The child had sat at his parents' feet for hours together, with his little hands patiently folded in each other, and his thin wan face raised towards them.They had seen him pine away, from day to day; and though his brief existence had been a joyless one, and he was now removed to that peace and rest which, child as he was, he had never known in this world, they were his parents, and his loss sunk deep into their souls.

"It was plain to those who looked upon the mother's altered face, that death must soon close the scene of her adversity and trial.Her husband's fellow-prisoners shrunk from obtruding on his grief and misery, and left to himself alone the small room he had previously occupied in common with two companions.She shared it with him: and lingering on without pain, but without hope, her life ebbed slowly away.

"She had fainted one evening in her husband's arms, and he had borne her to the open window, to revive her with the air, when the light of the moon falling full upon her face, shewed him a change upon her features, which made him stagger beneath her weight, like a helpless infant.

"`Set me down, George,' she said faintly.He did so, and seating himself beside her, covered his face with his hands, and burst into tears.

"`It is very hard to leave you, George,' she said, `but it is God's will, and you must bear it for my sake.Oh! how I thank Him for having taken our boy! He is happy, and in Heaven now.What would he have done here, without his mother!'

"`You shall not die, Mary, you shall not die!' said the husband, starting up.He paced hurriedly to and fro, striking his head with his clenched fists; then reseating himself beside her, and supporting her in his arms, added more calmly, `Rouse yourself, my dear girl.Pray, pray do.You will revive yet.'

"`Never again, George; never again,' said the dying woman.`Let them lay me by my poor boy now, but promise me that if ever you leave this dreadful place, and should grow rich, you will have us removed to some quiet country churchyard, a long, long way off--very far from here--where we can rest in peace.Dear George, promise me you will.'

"`I do, I do,' said the man, throwing himself passionately on his knees before her.`Speak to me, Mary, another word; one look--but one!'

"He ceased to speak: for the arm that clasped his neck grew stiff and heavy.A deep sigh escaped from the wasted form before him; the lips moved, and a smile played upon the face; but the lips were pallid, and the smile faded into a rigid and ghastly stare.He was alone in the world.

"That night, in the silence and desolation of his miserable room, the wretched man knelt down by the dead body of his wife, and called on God to witness a terrible oath, that from that hour, he devoted himself to revenge her death and that of his child; that thenceforth to the last moment of his life, his whole energies should be directed to this one object;that his revenge should be protracted and terrible; that his hatred should be undying and inextinguishable; and should hunt its object through the world.

"The deepest despair, and passion scarcely human, had made such fierce ravages on his face and form, in that one night, that his companions in misfortune shrunk affrighted from him as he passed by.His eyes were bloodshot and heavy, his face a deadly white, and his body bent as if with age.he had bitten his under lip nearly through in the violence of his mental suffering, and the blood which had flowed from the wound had trickled down his chin, and stained his shirt and neckerchief.No tear, or sound of complaint escaped him: but the unsettled look, and disordered haste with which he paced up and down the yard, denoted the fever which was burning within.

"It was necessary that his wife's body should be removed from the prison, without delay.He received the communication with perfect calmness, and acquiesced in its propriety.Nearly all the inmates of the prison had assembled to witness its removal; they fell back on either side when the widower appeared; he walked hurriedly forward, and stationed himself, alone, in a little railed area close to the lodge gate, from whence the crowd, with an instinctive feeling of delicacy, had retired.The rude coffin was borne slowly forward on men's shoulders.A dead silence pervaded the throng, broken only by the audible lamentations of the women, and the shuffling steps of the bearers on the stone pavement.They reached the spot where the bereaved husband stood: and stopped.He laid his hand upon the coffin, and mechanically adjusting the pall with which it was covered, motioned them onward.The turnkeys in the prison lobby took off their hats as it passed through, and in another moment the heavy gate closed behind it.

He looked vacantly upon the crowd, and fell heavily to the ground.

"Although for many weeks after this, he was watched, night and day, in the wildest ravings of fever, neither the consciousness of his loss, nor the recollection of the vow he had made, ever left him for a moment.