25DEC2021 – Quote of the Day – A Christmas Carol – Part 21

A CHRISTMAS CAROL (IN PROSE BEING, A Ghost Story of Christmas)

by Charles Dickens

(OCF editing – Part 21)

He recoiled in terror, for the scene had changed, and now

he almost touched a bed: a bare, uncurtained bed: on which,

beneath a ragged sheet, there lay a something covered up,

which, though it was dumb, announced itself in awful

language.

 

The room was very dark, too dark to be observed with

any accuracy, though Scrooge glanced round it in obedience

to a secret impulse, anxious to know what kind of room it

was. A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon

the bed; and on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept,

uncared for, was the body of this man.

 

Scrooge glanced towards the Phantom. Its steady hand

was pointed to the head. The cover was so carelessly adjusted

that the slightest raising of it, the motion of a finger upon

Scrooge’s part, would have disclosed the face. He thought

of it, felt how easy it would be to do, and longed to do it;

but had no more power to withdraw the veil than to dismiss

the spectre at his side.

 

Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar

here, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy

command: for this is thy dominion! But of the loved,

revered, and honoured head, thou canst not turn one hair

to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It is

not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released;

it is not that the heart and pulse are still; but that the

hand WAS open, generous, and true; the heart brave, warm,

and tender; and the pulse a man’s. Strike, Shadow, strike!

And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sow

the world with life immortal!

 

No voice pronounced these words in Scrooge’s ears, and

yet he heard them when he looked upon the bed. He

thought, if this man could be raised up now, what would be

his foremost thoughts? Avarice, hard-dealing, griping cares?

They have brought him to a rich end, truly!

 

He lay, in the dark empty house, with not a man, a

woman, or a child, to say that he was kind to me in this

or that, and for the memory of one kind word I will be

kind to him. A cat was tearing at the door, and there was

a sound of gnawing rats beneath the hearth-stone. What

they wanted in the room of death, and why they were so

restless and disturbed, Scrooge did not dare to think.

 

“Spirit!” he said, “this is a fearful place. In leaving it,

I shall not leave its lesson, trust me. Let us go!”

 

Still the Ghost pointed with an unmoved finger to the

head.

 

“I understand you,” Scrooge returned, “and I would do

it, if I could. But I have not the power, Spirit. I have

not the power.”

 

Again it seemed to look upon him.

 

“If there is any person in the town, who feels emotion

caused by this man’s death,” said Scrooge quite agonised,

“show that person to me, Spirit, I beseech you!”

 

The Phantom spread its dark robe before him for a

moment, like a wing; and withdrawing it, revealed a room

by daylight, where a mother and her children were.

 

She was expecting some one, and with anxious eagerness;

for she walked up and down the room; started at every

sound; looked out from the window; glanced at the clock;

tried, but in vain, to work with her needle; and could hardly

bear the voices of the children in their play.

 

At length the long-expected knock was heard. She hurried

to the door, and met her husband; a man whose face was

careworn and depressed, though he was young. There was

a remarkable expression in it now; a kind of serious delight

of which he felt ashamed, and which he struggled to repress.

 

He sat down to the dinner that had been hoarding for

him by the fire; and when she asked him faintly what news

(which was not until after a long silence), he appeared

embarrassed how to answer.

 

“Is it good?” she said, “or bad?”–to help him.

 

“Bad,” he answered.

 

“We are quite ruined?”

 

“No. There is hope yet, Caroline.”

 

“If he relents,” she said, amazed, “there is! Nothing is

past hope, if such a miracle has happened.”

 

“He is past relenting,” said her husband. “He is dead.”

 

She was a mild and patient creature if her face spoke

truth; but she was thankful in her soul to hear it, and she

said so, with clasped hands. She prayed forgiveness the next

moment, and was sorry; but the first was the emotion of

her heart.

 

“What the half-drunken woman whom I told you of last

night, said to me, when I tried to see him and obtain a

week’s delay; and what I thought was a mere excuse to avoid

me; turns out to have been quite true. He was not only

very ill, but dying, then.”

 

“To whom will our debt be transferred?”

 

“I don’t know. But before that time we shall be ready

with the money; and even though we were not, it would be

a bad fortune indeed to find so merciless a creditor in his

successor. We may sleep to-night with light hearts, Caroline!”

 

Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter.

The children’s faces, hushed and clustered round to hear what

they so little understood, were brighter; and it was a happier

house for this man’s death! The only emotion that the

Ghost could show him, caused by the event, was one of

pleasure.

 

“Let me see some tenderness connected with a death,” said

Scrooge; “or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just

now, will be for ever present to me.”

 

Charles Dickens

0 0 vote
Article Rating
Subscribe
Notify of
guest
0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
0
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x
()
x