NEXT MORNING.
Day dawned apace; and a glorious cavalcade of flaming clouds
heralded the Sun their captain. From far away, round half the wide
horizon, their glittering spears advanced. Heaven's highway rang with
the trampling of their horse-hoofs, and the dust went up from its
jewelled pavement as spray from the bottom of a cataract. Anon, he
came, the chieftain of that on-spurring host! his banner blazed upon the
sky; his golden crest was seen beneath, nodding with its ruddy plumes;
over the south-eastern hills he arose in radiant armour. Fair Nature,
waking at her bridegroom's voice, arrived so early from a distant clime,
smiled upon him sleepily, gladdening him in beauty with her sweet
half-opened eyelids, and kissing him in faithfulness with
dew-besprinkled lips.
And he looked forth upon the world from his high chariot, holding back
the coursers that must mount the steep of noon: and he heard the morning
hymn of thankfulness to Heaven from the mountains, and the valleys, and
the islands of the sea; the prayer of man and woman, the praise of
lisping tongues, the hum of insect joy upon the air, the sheep-bell
tinkling in the distance, the wild bird's carol, and the lowing kine,
the mute minstrelsy of rising dews, and that stilly scarce-heard
universal melody of wakeful plants and trees, hastening to turn their
spring-buds to the light--this was the anthem he, the Lord of Day, now
listened to--this was the song his influences had raised to bless the
God who made him.
And he saw, from his bright throne of wide derivative glory, Hope flying
forth upon her morning missions, visiting the lonesome, comforting the
sorrowful, speaking cheerfully to Care, and singing in the ear of
Labour: and he watched that ever-welcome friend, flitting with the
gleams of light to every home, to every heart; none but gladly let her
in; her tapping finger opened the very prison doors; the heavy head of
Sloth rejoiced to hear her call; and every common Folly, every common
Sin--ay, every common Crime--warmed his unconscious soul before her
winning beauty.
Yet, yet was there one, who cursed that angel's coming; and the holy Eye
of day wept pityingly to see an awful child of man who dared not look on
Hope.
The murderer stood beside his casement, watching that tranquil scene:
with bloodshot eyes and haggard stare, he gazed upon the waking world;
for one strange minute he forgot, entranced by innocence and beauty; but
when the stunning tide of memory, that had ebbed that one strange
minute, rolled back its mighty flood upon his mind, the murderer swooned
away.
And he came to himself again all too soon; for when he arose, building
up his weak, weak limbs, as if he were a column of sand, the cruel
giant, Guilt, lifted up his club, and felled the wretch once more.
How long he lay fainting, he knew not then; if any one had vowed it was
a century, Simon, as he gradually woke, could not have gainsaid the man;
but he only lay four seconds in that white oblivious trance--for Fear,
Fear knocked at his heart:--Up, man, up!--you need have all your wits
about you now;--see, it is broad day--the house will be roused before
you know where you are, and then will be shouted out that awful
name--Simon Jennings! Simon Jennings!