The
second line reminded me of the day when I struck her. The third line
warned me that she would wash out the stain of that blow in my blood, and
repeated the words, "I shall do it with the knife!"
These things happened a year ago. The law laid hands on the men who had
robbed me; but from that time to this, the law has failed completely to
find a trace of my wife.
My story is told. When I had paid the creditors and paid the legal
expenses, I had barely five pounds left out of the sale of my house; and I
had the world to begin over again. Some months since--drifting here and
there--I found my way to Underbridge. The landlord of the inn had known
something of my father's family in times past. He gave me (all he had to
give) my food, and shelter in the yard. Except on market days, there is
nothing to do. In the coming winter the inn is to be shut up, and I shall
have to shift for myself. My old master would help me if I applied to
him--but I don't like to apply: he has done more for me already than I
deserve. Besides, in another year who knows but my troubles may all be at
an end? Next winter will bring me nigh to my next birthday, and my next
birthday may be the day of my death. Yes! it's true I sat up all last
night; and I heard two in the morning strike: and nothing happened. Still,
allowing for that, the time to come is a time I don't trust.
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