Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
Here the conversation was interrupted in a two-fold manner. St. Clare’s voice was heard at the head of the stairs, asking Adolph if he meant to stay all night with his shaving-water; and Miss Ophelia, coming out of the dining-room, said, “Jane and Rosa, what are you wasting your time for, here? Go in and attend to your muslins.” Our friend Tom, who had been in the kitchen during the conversation with the old rusk woman, had followed her out into the street. He saw her go on, giving every once in a while a suppressed groan. At last she set her basket down on a doorstep, and began arranging the old, faded shawl which covered her shoulders. “I’ll carry your basket a piece,” said Tom, compassionately. “Why should ye?” said the woman. “I don’t want no help.” “You seem to be sick, or in trouble, or somethin’,” said Tom. “I an’t sick,” said the woman, shortly. “I wish,” said Tom, looking at her earnestly,- “I wish I could persuade you to leave off drinking. Don’t you know it will be the ruin of ye, body and soul?” “I knows I’m gwine to torment,” said the woman, sullenly. “Ye don’t need to tell me that ar. I’s ugly,- I’s wicked,- I’s gwine straight to torment. O Lord! I wish I’s thar!” Tom shuddered at these frightful words, spoken with a sullen, impassioned earnestness. |