Part 95 (2/2)
On our way back from Queen Square, he joked and talked merrily. Andrew joined in. Robert showed himself delighted with every attempt at gaiety or wit that Andrew made. When we reached the house, something that had occurred on the way made him turn to Martin Chuzzlewit, and he read Mrs.
Gamp's best to our great enjoyment.
I went down with the two to Southampton, to see them on board the steamer. I staid with them there until she sailed. It was a lovely morning in the end of April, when at last I bade them farewell on the quarter-deck. My heart was full. I took his hand and kissed it. He put his arms round me, and laid his cheek to mine. I was strong to bear the parting.
The great iron steamer went down in the middle of the Atlantic, and I have not yet seen my friend again.
CHAPTER XXI. IN EXPECTATIONE.
I had left my lodging and gone to occupy Falconer's till his return.
There, on a side-table among other papers, I found the following verses. The ma.n.u.script was much scored and interlined, but more than decipherable, for he always wrote plainly. I copied them out fair, and here they are for the reader that loves him.
Twilight is near, and the day grows old; The spiders of care are weaving their net; All night 'twill be blowing and rainy and cold; I cower at his door from the wind and wet.
He sent me out the world to see, Drest for the road in a garment new; It is clotted with clay, and worn beggarly-- The porter will hardly let me through!
I bring in my hand a few dusty ears-- Once I thought them a tribute meet!
I bring in my heart a few unshed tears: Which is my harvest--the pain or the wheat?
A broken man, at the door of his hall I listen, and hear it go merry within; The sounds are of birthday-festival!
Hark to the trumpet! the violin!
I know the bench where the shadowed folk Sit 'neath the music-loft--there none upbraids!
They will make me room who bear the same yoke, Dear publicans, sinners, and foolish maids!
An ear has been hearing my heart forlorn!
A step comes soft through the dancing-din!
Oh Love eternal! oh woman-born!
Son of my Father to take me in!
One moment, low at our Father's feet Loving I lie in a self-lost trance; Then walk away to the sinners' seat, With them, at midnight, to rise and dance!
THE END
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: In Scotch the ch and gh are almost always guttural. The gh according to Mr. Alexander Ellis, the sole authority in the past p.r.o.nunciation of the country, was guttural in England in the time of Shakspere.]
[Footnote 2: An exclamation of pitiful sympathy, inexplicable to the understanding.
<script>