And at this moment his mind leaped away from all
restraint toward the sudden prospect of deliverance from his long
bondage.
'Is she dead?' said the voice that predominated over every other
within him. 'If she is, I may marry Nancy; and then I shall be a
good fellow in future, and have no secrets, and the child- shall be
taken care of somehow.' But across that vision came the other
possibility- 'She may live, and then it's all up with me.'
Godfrey never knew how long it was before the door of the cottage
opened and Mr Kimble came out. He went forward to meet his uncle,
prepared to suppress the agitation he must feel, whatever news he
was to hear.
'I waited for you, as I'd come so far,' he said, speaking first.
'Pooh, it was nonsense for you to come out: why didn't you send one
of the men? There's nothing to be done. She's dead- has been dead
for hours, I should say.'
'What sort of woman is she?' said Godfrey, feeling the blood rush
to his face.
'A young woman, but emaciated, with long black hair. Some
vagrant- quite in rags. She's got a wedding-ring on, however. They
must fetch her away to the workhouse tomorrow. Come, come along.'
'I want to look at her,' said Godfrey. 'I think I saw such a
woman yesterday. I'll overtake you in a minute or two.'
Mr Kimble went on, and Godfrey turned back to the cottage. He
cast only one glance at the dead face on the pillow, which Dolly had
smoothed with decent care; but he remembered that last look at his
unhappy hated wife so well, that at the end of sixteen years every
line in the worn face was present to him when he told the full story
of this night.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182