Mr. Dingwell looked at his watch.
"Oh! Mr. Dingwell, it is hoffle. I wish you would only see it, sir."
"_See_ the _thunder_--eh?"
"My poor mother. She always made us go down on our knees, and say our prayers--she would--while the thunder was."
"You"d have had rather long prayers to-night. How your knees must have ached--egad! I don"t wonder you dread it, Miss Sarah."
"And so I _do_, Mr. Dingwell, and so I should. Which I think all other sinners should dread it also."
"Meaning _me_."
"And take warning of the wrath to come."
Here was another awful clap.
"Hoffle it is, Mr. Dingwell, and a warnin" to _you_, sent special, mayhap."
"Hardly fair to disturb all the town for _me_, don"t you think?"
"You"re an old man, Mr. Dingwell."
"And you"re an old woman, Miss Sarah," said he--not caring to be reminded of his years by other people, though he playfully called himself on occasions an old "boy"--"as old as Abraham"s wife, whose namesake you are, though you have not lighted on an Abraham yet, nor become the mother of a great nation."
"Old enough to be good enough, as my poor mother used to say, sir; I am truly; and sorry I am, Mr. Dingwell, to see you, on this hoffle night, bent on no good. I"m afraid, sir--oh, sir, sir, oughtn"t you think, with them sounds in your ears, Mr. Dingwell?"
"The most formidable thunder, my dear Sarah, proceeds from the silvery tongue of woman. I can stand any other. _It_ frightens me. So, egad, if you please, I"ll take refuge in the open air, and go out, and patter a prayer."
And with a nod and a smirk, having had fooling enough, he glided by Miss Rumble, who made him an appalled courtesy, and, setting down his candle on the hall-table, he said, touching his false whiskers with his finger tips, "Mind, not a word about these--upon my soul----you"d _better_ not."
She made another courtesy. He stopped and looked at her for an answer.
"Can"t you _speak_?" he said.
"No, sir--sure--not a word," she faltered.
"Good girl!" he said, and opened the door, with his latch-key in his pocket, on pitchy darkness, which was instantaneously illuminated by the lightning, and another awful roar of thunder broke over their heads.
"The voice of heaven in warning!" she murmured to herself, as she stood by the banisters, dazzled by the gleam, and listening to the reverberation ringing in her ears. "I pray G.o.d he may turn back yet."
He looked over his shoulder.
"Another shot, Miss Rumble--missed again, you see." He nodded, stepped out upon the flags, and shut the door. She heard his steps in the silence that followed, traversing the court.
"Oh dear! but I wish he _was_ gone, right out--a hoffle old man he is.
There"s a weight on my conscience like, and a fright in my heart, there is, ever since he camed into the "ouse. He is so presumptious.
To see that hold man made hup with them rings and whiskers, like a robber or a play-actor! And defyin" the blessed thunder of heaven--a walking hout, a mockin" and darin" it, at these hours--Oh _law_!"
The interjection was due to another flash and peal.
"I wouldn"t wonder--no more I would--if that flash was the death o"
"im!"
CHAPTER XI.
THE PALE HORSE.
SALLY RUMBLE knocked at the usual hour at the old man"s door next morning.
"Come in, ma"am," he answered, in a weary, peevish voice. "Open the window-shutter, and give me some light, and hand me my watch, please."
All which she did.
"I have not closed my eyes from the time I lay down."
"Not ailing, sir, I hope?"
"Just allow me to count, and I"ll tell you, my dear."
He was trying his pulse.
"Just as I thought, egad. The pale horse in the Revelation, ma"am, he"s running a gallop in my pulse; it has been threatening the last three days, and now I"m in for it, and I should not be surprised, Miss Sally, if it ended in a funeral in our alley."
"G.o.d forbid, sir."
"Amen, with all my heart. Ay, the pale horse; my head"s splitting; oblige me with the looking-gla.s.s, and a little less light will answer.
Thank you--very good. Just draw the curtain open at the foot of the bed; please, hold it nearer--thank you. Yes, a ghost, ma"am--ha, ha--at last, I do suppose. My eyes, too--I"ve seen pits, with the water drying up, hollow--ay, ay; sunk--and--now--did you see? Well, look at my tongue--here"--and he made the demonstration; "you never saw a worse tongue than _that_, I fancy; that tongue, ma"am, is eloquent, _I_ think."
"Please G.o.d, sir, you"ll soon be better."
"Draw the curtain a bit more; the light falls oddly, or--does it?--my face. Did you ever see, ma"am, a face so nearly the colour of a coffin-plate?"
"Don"t be talking, sir, please, of no such thing," said Sally Rumble, taking heart of grace, for women generally pluck up a spirit when they see a man floored by sickness. "I"ll make you some whey or barley-water, or would you like some weak tea better?"
"Ay; will you draw the curtain close again, and take away the looking-gla.s.s? Thanks. I believe I"ve drunk all the water in the carafe. Whey--well, I suppose it"s the right thing; _caudle_ when we"re coming _in_, and _whey_, ma"am, when we"re going _out_. Baptism of Infants, Burial of the Dead! My poor mother, how she did put us through the prayer-book, and Bible--Bible. Dear me."
"There"s a very good man, sir, please--the Rev. Doctor Bartlett, though he"s gone rather old. He came in, and read a deal, and prayed, every day with my sister when she was sick, poor thing."
"Bartlett? What"s his Christian name? You need not speak loud--it plays the devil with my head."
"The Reverend Thomas Bartlett, please, sir."
"Of Jesus?"