The sun had been shining brightly all day on the roof
of my attic, and the room was warm. As I put
the window open and stood looking out, I saw Joe come
slowly forth at the dark door below, and take a turn
or two in the air; and then I saw Biddy come, and bring
him a pipe and light it for him. He never smoked
so late, and it seemed to hint to me that he wanted
comforting, for some reason or other.
He presently stood at the door immediately beneath
me, smoking his pipe, and Biddy stood there too, quietly
talking to him, and I knew that they talked of me,
for I heard my name mentioned in an endearing tone
by both of them more than once. I would not have
listened for more, if I could have heard more:
so, I drew away from the window, and sat down in
my one chair by the bedside, feeling it very sorrowful
and strange that this first night of my bright fortunes
should be the loneliest I had ever known.
Looking towards the open window, I saw light wreaths
from Joe’s pipe floating there, and I fancied
it was like a blessing from Joe - not obtruded on
me or paraded before me, but pervading the air we
shared together. I put my light out, and crept
into bed; and it was an uneasy bed now, and I never
slept the old sound sleep in it any more.
Morning made a considerable difference in my general
prospect of Life, and brightened it so much that it
scarcely seemed the same. What lay heaviest on
my mind, was, the consideration that six days intervened
between me and the day of departure; for, I could not
divest myself of a misgiving that something might happen
to London in the meanwhile, and that, when I got there,
it would be either greatly deteriorated or clean gone.
Joe and Biddy were very sympathetic and pleasant when
I spoke of our approaching separation; but they only
referred to it when I did. After breakfast,
Joe brought out my indentures from the press in the
best parlour, and we put them in the fire, and I felt
that I was free. With all the novelty of my
emancipation on me, I went to church with Joe, and
thought, perhaps the clergyman wouldn’t have
read that about the rich man and the kingdom of Heaven,
if he had known all.
After our early dinner I strolled out alone, purposing
to finish off the marshes at once, and get them done
with. As I passed the church, I felt (as I had
felt during service in the morning) a sublime compassion
for the poor creatures who were destined to go there,
Sunday after Sunday, all their lives through, and to
lie obscurely at last among the low green mounds.
I promised myself that I would do something for them
one of these days, and formed a plan in outline for
bestowing a dinner of roast-beef and plumpudding,
a pint of ale, and a gallon of condescension, upon
everybody in the village.
If I had often thought before, with something allied
to shame, of my companionship with the fugitive whom
I had once seen limping among those graves, what were
my thoughts on this Sunday, when the place recalled
the wretch, ragged and shivering, with his felon iron
and badge! My comfort was, that it happened a
long time ago, and that he had doubtless been transported
a long way off, and that he was dead to me, and might
be veritably dead into the bargain.
