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Updated: June 21, 2025
And because he came and went away so strangely just as white-headed old men come sometimes to my bed's foot in the night, and say what I can't remember when the bright day returns. He told me he'd come back. I wonder why he broke his word! 'But you never thought of being rich or gay, before, dear Barnaby. You have always been contented.
Bring in the candles, good servitor, and range them at my bed's head; sweet avocation awaits me, for here I have a goodly parcel of catalogues with which to commune.
Its tenant evidently was of artistic leanings for about the room were several large bronze candle-sticks filled with partially burned tapers. A low bookcase extended along two sides of the room, each shelf filled, and at the end of the cases a heavy imported drapery drawn slightly aside revealed the entrance to a sleeping apartment, the bed's snowy covering unruffled.
"'Twas fun, too," he asserted suddenly, as, with a final wipe of his fist across his eyes, he dismissed the outward traces of his grief. "You get things to eat to take with you, and the bed's the camp, and you live there for years and always, all alone. And then they smell the things you're eating and " "Who's they?" the small girl demanded.
And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony.
In the opposite corner was a heap of mingled shavings, straw, and sacking, the present couch of the aged tenant of this gloomy apartment. The box stood close at the bed's head; there were bottles and a glass upon, it, which had plainly not been used for medicinal purposes, as the faded odour of spirits, distinguishable above the general rank close smell of the room, too clearly testified.
Then Marguérite, shivering from head to foot, shaking her whole couch with nervous movements, stammered: "Sit down, Big Sister ... listen." The priest bent down toward Suzanne, who was still flung upon the bed's foot. He raised her, placed her in an armchair, and taking a hand of each of the sisters in one of his own, he pronounced: "Lord, my God!
Yes, and his wife I recalled her words held him in some trap. And yet, recalling her face, I could not shake off the fancy that she, rather than he, stood in need of help. Pondering all this, still with my eyes closed, I dropped asleep in good earnest. I awoke from a sleep of many hours, to see old Pascoe standing at the bed's foot. No doubt his entrance had disturbed me.
"I want to talk to you and Chris," the old lady said, contentedly closing her eyes. "Everybody else out!" she whispered. The room was immediately cleared. "It can't hurt her now!" Doctor Murray looked rather than said to Norma as he passed her. Chris watched the closing doors, sat beside the bed's head with one arm half-supporting his mother-in-law's pillows.
"Her little hands seem to have glossed over every thing they touched, and the gruel had a relish that that old woman could never give." It was willing hands that made the difference, good Mr. Bond. A sick bed's a hard place for one who has no kind and voluntary attention.
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