CHAPTER 1

ut.Findingthatwedidnotfollowassheexpected,shelookedbackwithasmileandwaitedforus.Theoldmanshowedbyhisfacethatheplainlyunderstoodthecauseofmyhesitation,buthemerelysignedtomewithaninclinationoftheheadtopassoutoftheroombeforehim,andremainedsilent.Ihadnoresourcebuttocomply. Whenwereachedthedoor,thechildsettingdownthecandle,turnedtosaygoodnightandraisedherfacetokissme.Thensherantotheoldman,whofoldedherinhisarmsandbadeGodblessher. ‘Sleepsoundly,Nell,’hesaidinalowvoice,‘andangelsguardthybed!Donotforgetthyprayers,mysweet.’ ‘No,indeed,’answeredthechildfervently,‘theymakemefeelsohappy!’ ‘That’swellIknowtheydotheyshould,’saidtheoldman.‘Blesstheeahundredtimes!EarlyinthemorningIshallbehome.’ ‘You’llnotringtwice,’returnedthechild.‘Thebellwakesme,eveninthemiddleofadream.’ Withthis,theyseparated.Thechildopenedthedoor(nowguardedbyashutterwhichIhadheardtheboyputupbeforeheleftthehouse)andwithanotherfarewellwhoseclearandtendernoteIhaverecalledathousandtimes,heldituntilwehadpassedout.Theoldmanpausedamomentwhileitwasgentlyclosedandfastenedontheinside,andsatisfiedthatthiswasdone,walkedonataslowpace.Atthestreet-cornerhestopped,andregardingmewithatroubledcountenancesaidthatourwayswerewidelydifferentandthathemusttakehisleave.Iwouldhavespoken,butsummoningupmorealacritythanmighthavebeenexpectedinoneofhisappearance,hehurriedaway.IcouldseethattwiceorthricehelookedbackasiftoascertainifIwerestillwatchinghim,orperhapstoassurehimselfthatIwasnotfollowingatadistance.Theobscurityofthenightfavouredhisdisappearance,andhisfigurewassoonbeyondmysight. Iremainedstandingonthespotwherehehadleftme,unwillingtodepart,andyetunknowingwhyIshouldloiterthere.Ilookedwistfullyintothestreetwehadlatelyquitted,andafteratimedirectedmystepsthatway.Ipassedandrepassedthehouse,andstoppedandlistenedatthedoorallwasdark,andsilentasthegrave. YetIlingeredabout,andcouldnottearmyselfaway,thinkingofallpossibleharmthatmighthappentothechild—offiresandrobberiesandevenmurder—andfeelingasifsomeevilmustensueifIturnedmybackupontheplace.Theclosingofadoororwindowinthestreetbroughtmebeforethecuriosity-dealer’soncemoreIcrossedtheroadandlookedupatthehousetoassuremyselfthatthenoisehadnotcomefromthere.No,itwasblack,cold,andlifelessasbefore. Therewerefewpassengersastirthestreetwassadanddismal,andprettywellmyown.Afewstragglersfromthetheatreshurriedby,andnowandthenIturnedasidetoavoidsomenoisydrunkardashereeledhomewards,buttheseinterruptionswerenotfrequentandsoonceased.Theclocksstruckone.StillIpacedupanddown,promisingmyselfthateverytimeshouldbethelast,andbreakingfaithwithmyselfonsomenewpleaasoftenasIdidso. ThemoreIthoughtofwhattheoldmanhadsaid,andofhislooksandbearing,thelessIcouldaccountforwhatIhadseenandheard.Ihadastrongmisgivingthathisnightlyabsencewasfornogoodpurpose.Ihadonlycometoknowthefactthroughtheinnocenceofthechild,andthoughtheoldmanwasbyatthetime,andsawmyundisguisedsurprise,hehadpreservedastrangemysteryuponthesubjectandofferednowordofexplanation.Thesereflectionsnaturallyrecalledagainmorestronglythanbeforehishaggardface,hiswanderingmanner,hisrestlessanxiouslooks.Hisaffectionforthechildmightnotbeinconsistentwithvillanyoftheworstkindeventhatveryaffectionwasinitselfanextraordinarycontradiction,orhowcouldheleaveherthus?DisposedasIwastothinkbadlyofhim,Ineverdoubtedthathisloveforherwasreal.Icouldnotadmitthethought,rememberingwhathadpassedbetweenus,andthetoneofvoiceinwhichhehadcalledherbyhername. ‘Stayhereofcourse,’thechildhadsaidinanswertomyquestion,‘Ialwaysdo!’Whatcouldtakehimfromhomebynight,andeverynight!IcalledupallthestrangetalesIhadeverheardofdarkandsecretdeedscommittedingreattownsandescapingdetectionforalongseriesofyearswildasmanyofthesestorieswere,Icouldnotfindoneadaptedtothismystery,whichonlybecamethemoreimpenetrable,inproportionasIsoughttosolveit. Occupiedwithsuchthoughtsasthese,andacrowdofothersalltendingtothesamepoint,Icontinuedtopacethestreetfortwolonghoursatlengththerainbegantodescendheavily,andthenover-poweredbyfatiguethoughnolessinterestedthanIhadbeenatfirst,Iengagedthenearestcoachandsogothome.Acheerfulfirewasblazingonthehearth,thelampburntbrightly,myclockreceivedmewithitsoldfamiliarwelcomeeverythingwasquiet,warmandcheering,andinhappycontrasttothegloomanddarknessIhadquitted. Butallthatnight,wakingorinmysleep,thesamethoughtsrecurredandthesameimagesretainedpossessionofmybrain.Ihadeverbeforemetheolddarkmurkyrooms—thegauntsuitsofmailwiththeirghostlysilentair—thefacesallawry,grinningfromwoodandstone—thedustandrustandwormthatlivesinwood—andaloneinthemidstofallthislumberanddecayanduglyage,thebeautifulchildinhergentleslumber,smilingthroughherlightandsunnydreams.