CHAPTER XI.
THE PALE HORSE.
SALLY RUMBLE knocked at the usual hour at the old man's door nextmorning.
"Come in, ma'am," he answered, in a weary, peevish voice. "Open thewindow-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 lastthree days, and now I'm in for it, and I should not be surprised, MissSally, if it ended in a funeral in our alley."
"God forbid, sir."
"Amen, with all my heart. Ay, the pale horse; my head's splitting;oblige me with the looking-glass, and a little less light will answer.Thank you--very good. Just draw the curtain open at the foot of thebed; 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 thewater drying up, hollow--ay, ay; sunk--and--now--did you see? Well,look at my tongue--here"--and he made the demonstration; "you neversaw a worse tongue than _that_, I fancy; that tongue, ma'am, iseloquent, _I_ think."
"Please God, sir, you'll soon be better."
"Draw the curtain a bit more; the light falls oddly, or--does it?--myface. Did you ever see, ma'am, a face so nearly the colour of acoffin-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 theysee a man floored by sickness. "I'll make you some whey orbarley-water, or would you like some weak tea better?"
"Ay; will you draw the curtain close again, and take away thelooking-glass? Thanks. I believe I've drunk all the water in thecarafe. Whey--well, I suppose it's the right thing; _caudle_ whenwe're coming _in_, and _whey_, ma'am, when we're going _out_. Baptismof Infants, Burial of the Dead! My poor mother, how she did put usthrough 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--itplays the devil with my head."
"The Reverend Thomas Bartlett, please, sir."
"Of Jesus?"
"What, sir, please?"
"Jesus _College_."
"Don't know, I'm sure, sir."
"Is he old?"
"Yes, sir, past seventy."
"Ha--well I don't care a farthing about him," said Mr. Dingwell.
"Will you, please, have in the apothecary, sir? I'll fetch himdirectly, if you wish."
"No--_no_ apothecary, _no_ clergyman; I don't believe in the Apostles'Creed, ma'am, and I do believe in the jokes about apothecaries. If I'mto go, I'll go quietly, if you please."
Honest Sally Rumble was heavy at heart to see this old man, whocertainly did look ghastly enough to suggest ideas of the undertakerand the sexton, in so unsatisfactory a plight as to his immortal part.Was he a Jew?--there wasn't a hair on his chin--or a RomanCatholic?--or a member of any one of those multitudinous forms offaith which she remembered in a stout volume, adorned with woodcuts,and entitled "A Dictionary of all Religions," in a back parlour of hergrand-uncle, the tallow-chandler?
"Give me a glass of cold water, ma'am," said the subject of hersolicitude.
"Thank you--that's the best drink--_slop_, I think you call it--a sickman can swallow."
Sally Rumble coughed a little, and fidgeted, and at last she said:"Please, sir, would you wish I should fetch any other sort of aminister?"
"Don't plague me, pray; I believe in the prophet Rabelais and _je m'envais chercher un grand peutetre_--the two great chemists, Death, whois going to analyse, and Life, to re-combine me. I tell you, ma'am, myhead is bursting; I'm very ill; I'll talk no more."
She hesitated. She lingered in the room, in her great perplexity; andMr. Dingwell lay back, with a groan.
"I'll tell you what you may do: go down to your landlord's office,and be so good as to say to either of those d----d Jew fellows--Idon't care which--that I am as you see me; it mayn't signify, it mayblow over; but I've an idea it is serious; and tell them I said theyhad better know that I am _very ill_, and that I've taken no stepabout it."
With another weary groan Mr. Dingwell let himself down on his pillow,and felt worse for his exertion, and very tired and stupid, and oddabout the head, and would have been very glad to fall asleep; and withone odd pang of fear, sudden and cold, at his heart, he thought, "I'mgoing to die--I'm going to die--at last--I'm going to die."
The physical nature in sickness acquiesces in death; it is theinstructed mind that recoils; and the more versed about the unseenthings of futurity, unless when God, as it were, prematurely glorifiesit, the more awfully it recoils.
Mr. Dingwell was not more afraid than other sinners who have lived forthe earthy part of their nature, and have taken futurity pretty muchfor granted, and are now going to test by the stake of _themselves_the value of their loose guesses.
No; he had chanced a great many things, and they had turned out forthe most part better than he expected. Oh! no; the whole court, andthe adjoining lanes, and, in short, the whole city of London, mustgo as he would--lots of company, it was not to be supposed it wasanything very bad--and he was so devilish tired, _over_-fatigued--queer--worse than sea-sickness--that headache--fate--the change--anend--what was it? At all events, a rest, a sleep--sleep--could not bevery bad; lots of sleep, sir, and the chance--the chance--oh, yes,things go pretty well, and I have not had my good luck yet. I wish Icould sleep a bit--yes, let kingdom-come be all sleep--and so a groan,and the brain duller, and more pain, and the immense fatigue thatdemands the enormous sleep.
When Sarah Rumble returned, Mr. Dingwell seemed, she thought, a greatdeal heavier. He made no remark, as he used to do, when she enteredthe room. She came and stood by the bed-side, but he lay with his eyesclosed, not asleep; she could see by the occasional motion of hislips, and the fidgety change of his posture, and his weary groanings.She waited for a time in silence.
"Better, sir?" she half-whispered, after a minute or two.
"No," he said, wearily.
Another silence followed, and then she asked, "Would you like a drink,Mr. Dingwell, sir?"
"Yes--water."
So he drank a very little, and lay down again.
Miss Sarah Rumble stayed in the room, and nearly ten minutes passedwithout a word.
"What did he say?" demanded Mr. Dingwell so abruptly that Sarah Rumblefancied he had been dreaming.
"Who, sir, please?"
"The Jew--landlord," he answered.
"Mr. Levi's a-coming up, sir, please--he expected in twenty minutes,"replied she.
Mr. Dingwell groaned; and two or three minutes more elapsed, andsilence seemed to have re-established itself in the darkened chamber,when Mr. Dingwell raised himself up with a sudden effort, and hesaid--
"Sarah Rumble, fetch me my desk." Which she did, from hissitting-room.
"Put your hand under the bolster, and you'll find two keys on a ring,and a pocket-book. _Yes._ Now, Sarah Rumble, unlock that desk. Verygood. Put out the papers on the coverlet before me; first bolt thedoor. Thank you, ma'am. There are a parcel of letters among those,tied across with a red silk cord--just so. Put them in my hand--thankyou--and place all the rest back again neatly--_neatly_, if youplease. Now lock the desk; replace it, and come here; but first giveme pen and ink, and bolt the door--try it again."
And as she did so he scrawled an address upon the blank paper in whichthese letters were wrapt.
The brown visage of his grave landlady was graver than ever, as shereturned to listen for further orders.
"Mrs. Sarah Rumble, I take you for an honest person; and as I may diethis time, I make a particul
ar request of _you_--take this littlepacket, and slip it between the feather-bed and the mattress, as nearthe centre as your arm will reach--thank you--remember it's there. IfI die, ma'am, you'll find a ten-pound note wrapped about it, which Igive to you; you need not thank--that will do. The letters addressedas they are you will deliver, without showing them, or _saying oneword to anyone_ but to the gentleman himself, into whose hands youmust deliver them. You understand?"
"Yes, sir, please; I'm listening."
"Well, _attend_. There are two Jew gentlemen--your landlord, Mr. Levi,and the _old_ Jew, who have been with me once or twice--you know_them_; that makes _two_; and there is Mr. Larkin, the tall gentlemanwho has been twice here with them, with the lavender waistcoat andtrousers, the eye-glass with the black ribbon, the black frockcoat--heigho! oh, dear, my head!--the red grizzled whiskers, and baldhead."
"The religious gentleman, please, sir?"
"Exactly; the religious gentleman. Well, _attend_. The two Jews andthe religious gentleman together make _three_; and those threegentlemen are _robbers_."
"_What_, sir?"
"_Robbers_--robbers! Don't you know what '_robbers_' means? They areall three _robbers_. Now, I don't think they'll want to fiddle with mymoney till I'm dead."
"Oh, Lord, sir!"
"'Oh, Lord!' of course. That will do. They won't touch my money tillI'm dead, if they trust you; but they _will_ want my desk--at leastLarkin will. I shan't be able to look after things, for my head isvery bad, and I shall be too drowsy--soon knocked up; so give 'em thedesk, if they ask for it, and these keys from under the pillow; and ifthey ask you if there are any other papers, say _no_; and don't youtell them one word about the letters you've put between the beds here.If you betray me--you're a religious woman--yes--and believe inGod--may God d--n you; and He will, for you'll be accessory to thevillany of those three miscreants. And now I've done what in me lies;and that is all--my last testament."
And Mr. Dingwell lay down wearily. Sarah Rumble knew that he was veryill; she had attended people in fever, and seen them die. Mr. Dingwellwas already perceptibly worse. As she was coming up with some whey, aknock came to the door, and opening it she saw Mr. Levi, with a verysurly countenance, and his dark eyes blazing fiercely on her.
"How'sh Dingwell now?" he demanded, before he had time to enter, andshut the door; "_worse_, is he?"
"Well, he's duller, sir."
"In his bed? Shut the door."
"Yes, sir, please. Didn't get up this morning. He expected you twohours ago, sir."
Levi nodded.
"What doctor did you fetch?" he asked.
"No doctor, please, sir. I thought you and _him_ would choose."
Levi made no answer; so she could not tell by his surly face, whichunderwent no change, whether he approved or not. He looked at hiswatch.
"Larkin wasn't here to-day?"
"Mr. Larkin? No, sir, please."
"Show me Dingwell's room, till I have a look at him," said the Jew,gloomily.
So he followed her up-stairs, and entered the darkened room withoutwaiting for any invitation, and went to the window, and pulled open abit of the shutter.
"What's it for?" grumbled Dingwell indistinctly from his bed.
"So you've bin and done it, you have," said the Jew, walking up withhis hands in his pockets, and eyeing him from a distance as he might aglandered horse.
Dingwell was in no condition to retort on this swarthy little man, whoeyed him with a mixture of disgust and malignity.
"How long has he been thish way?" said the Jew, glowering on SarahRumble.
"Only to-day in bed, please, sir; but he has bin lookin' awful badthis two or three days, sir."
"Do you back it for _fever_?"
"I think it's _fever_, sir."
"I s'pose you'd twig fever fasht enough? Seen lotsh of fever in yourtime?"
"Yes, sir, please."
"It _ish_ fever, ten to one in fifties. Black death going, ma'am--_my_luck. Look at him there, d----n him, he'sh got it."
Levi looked at him surlily for a while with eyes that glowed likecoals.
"This comsh o' them cursed holes you're always a-going to; there'salways fever and everything there, you great old buck goat."
Dingwell made an effort to raise himself, and mumbled, half awake--
"Let me--I'll talk to him--how dare you--when I'mbetter--_quiet_"--and he laid down his head again.
"When you _are_, you cursed sink. Look at all we've lost by you."
He stood looking at Dingwell savagely.
"He'll _die_," exclaimed he, making an angry nod, almost a butt, withhis head toward the patient, and he repeated his prediction with afurious oath.
"See, you'll send down to the apothecary's for that chloride of lime,and them vinegars and things--or--no; you must wait here, for Larkinwill come; and don't you let him go, mind. Me and Mr. Goldshed will behere in no time. Tell him the doctor's coming; and us--and I'll sendup them things from the apothecary, and you put them all about inplates on the floor and tables. Bad enough to lose our money, andcursed bad; but I won't take this--come out o' this room--if _I_ canhelp."
And he entered the drawing-room, shutting Dingwell's door, andspitting on the floor, and then he opened the window.
"He'll _die_--do you _think_ he'll die?" he exclaimed again.
"He's in the hands of God, sir," said Sally Rumble.
"He won't be long there--he'll die--I say he _will_--he will;" and thelittle Jew swore and stamped on the floor, and clapped his hat on hishead, and ran down the stairs, in a paroxysm of business and fury.