'He was lying on an old bedstead, which turned up during the
day. The tattered remains of a checked curtain were drawn round
the bed's head, to exclude the wind, which, however, made its
way into the comfortless room through the numerous chinks in
the door, and blew it to and fro every instant. There was a low
cinder fire in a rusty, unfixed grate; and an old three-cornered
stained table, with some medicine bottles, a broken glass, and a
few other domestic articles, was drawn out before it. A little child
was sleeping on a temporary bed which had been made for it on
the floor, and the woman sat on a chair by its side. There were
a couple of shelves, with a few plates and cups and saucers; and
a pair of stage shoes and a couple of foils hung beneath them.
With the exception of little heaps of rags and bundles which had
been carelessly thrown into the corners of the room, these were
the only things in the apartment.
'I had had time to note these little particulars, and to mark the
heavy breathing and feverish startings of the sick man, before he
was aware of my presence. In the restless attempts to procure
some easy resting-place for his head, he tossed his hand out of the
bed, and it fell on mine.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92