THE GATE OF DEATH.
Daniel had a good way to go, for the minister’s house was in an
opposite direction to his own from the chapel. The November fogs still
hung about London, and the lamps gave only a dim light through the
gloom. Those who were yet walking about the streets marched quickly, as
if anxious to reach whatever shelter they called their own.
Daniel himself was making his way as fast as he could along the muddy
pavement, when he came to a part of the streets where the drainage was
being repaired, and where charcoal fires were burning in braziers here
and there, at once to give warning to the passers-by and to afford
warmth to the watchmen who stayed beside them all night. One of the
watchmen had brought an old door and reared it up against a rude wall
of stone and bricks so as to form some protection from the rain, which
now and then fell in short showers.
He had quitted his shed, for some reason or other, and as Daniel
drew near his steps were arrested; for crouching underneath it, and
stretching out her shrivelled arms over the brazier full of charcoal,
was Jessica’s mother. The fitful light was shining strongly upon her
face, and showed the deep lines which misery and degradation had
ploughed upon it and the sullenness and stupidity which were stamped
upon her features.
He stood still, gazing at her with disgust; but very soon a feeling of
profound pity took its place. He had been wondering what had become of
her since Friday morning, and had even felt a kind of anxiety about
her; and now, as he thought of the room with its comfortable bed which
was waiting for her, instead of the brief shelter of the shed, he
climbed over the heaps of rubbish which lay between them, calling to
her, for he did not know her name, “Jessica’s mother!”
The woman started to her feet at the sound of his voice, and looked him
full in the face with an expression of utter wretchedness. Her eyes
were inflamed and swollen with tears, and every feature was quivering
as if she had no control over them. She was so miserable a creature
that Daniel did not know in what words to speak to her; but his heart
was moved with an unutterable compassion, unknown to him till now.
He even felt a sympathy for her, as if he had once been in the same
depths of degradation, as he looked down shudderingly into the deep
abyss where she had fallen by her sins; and the sense of her misery
touched him so closely that he would have given his life for her
salvation. He stretched out his hand towards her, but she pushed it
away, and with a groan of despair she fled from the light, and sought
to hide herself in the darkness of the foggy streets.
But Daniel was not easily turned aside from his desire to bring some
help to Jessica’s mother, even if it were no more than to rescue her
from the chilliness of the November night. He followed her with steps
as rapid as her own, and only that she had the first start he would
have been quickly at her side. She fled swiftly along the streets to
escape from him, and he pursued her, hoping that she would soon weary
and would turn to speak to him.
But she kept on until Daniel found himself at the entrance of one of
the old bridges of the city which span the wide waters of the river.
Side by side with it a new bridge was being constructed with massive
beams of timber, and huge blocks of stone, and vast girders of iron,
lying like some giant skeleton enveloped in the fog, yet showing dimly
through it by the glare of red lights and blazing torches, which were
kindled here and there, and cast flickering gleams upon the black
waters beneath, into which Daniel looked down with a shiver, as he
paused for a moment in his pursuit.
But he had lost sight of the woman when he lifted up his eyes again,
unless the strange dark figure on one of the great beams stretching
over the river was the form of Jessica’s mother. He pressed towards it,
quitting the safety of the old bridge; but, as a wild and very mournful
cry smote upon his ear, he missed his footing, and fell heavily upon a
pile of masonry at some distance below him.
It could only have been a minute that he was unconscious, for the
deep-toned clock of St. Paul’s had chimed the first stroke of midnight
as he lost footing, and the boom of the last stroke was still ringing
through the air when he tried to raise himself and look again for the
dark figure which he had seen hanging over the river; but he could not
move, and he lay quietly, without making a second effort, and thinking
clearly over what had happened.
There was little doubt that the wretched woman whom he had sought to
save had hurried away from all salvation, whether of God or man; and
yet how was it that, instead of the shock of horror, a perfect peace
possessed his soul? For a moment it seemed to him that he could hear a
voice speaking, through the dull and monotonous splashing of the cold
water against the arches below him, and it said to him, “Because thou
hast been faithful unto death, I will give thee a crown of life.”
Was he going to die? he asked himself, as a pang of extreme agony ran
through all his frame, and extorted a moan from his lips. He was ready
and willing, if it was the will of God; but he would like to see his
little Jessica again and tell her gently with his own lips that her
mother was dead, and gone--he could say nothing gentler--to her own
place, which God knew of.
The midnight hour was quieter than usual in the busy city, for it was
Sunday and the night was damp; so Daniel lay for some time before he
heard the tread of a passer-by upon the bridge above him. He could hear
many sounds at a little distance; but he could not raise his voice
loudly enough to be audible through the splash of the waters. But
as soon as he heard footsteps on the bridge he cried, with a strong
effort, “Help me, or I shall die before morning!”
It seemed a long time, and one of great suffering to him, before he was
raised up and laid upon the smooth pathway of the bridge. But he did
not cry out or groan; and as the little crowd which gathered around him
spoke in tones of commiseration and kindness he thanked them calmly,
and with a cheerfulness which deceived them. They bore him to the
nearest hospital, but as they would have laid him on a bed there he
stopped them, with great energy and earnestness.
“Let the doctor see me first,” he said, “and tell me whether I am
likely to die or live.”
The doctor’s hand touched him, and there were a few questions put to
him, which he answered calmly; and then, as the doctor looked down upon
him with a grave face, he looked back with perfect composure.
“I’m a Christian man,” said Daniel, “and I’m not afraid to die. But if
you think there’s no chance for me I’d rather go home. I’ve a little
girl at home who’d like to be with me all the time till I’m taken away
from her. The key of my house is in my pocket. Let me be taken home.”
They could not refuse his request; but the doctor told him he might
live yet for some days, though the injuries he had received gave no
hope of his life; to which Daniel replied only by a solemn smile. It
was nearly morning before he reached his house, under the care of a
nurse and a student from the hospital; and thus he entered for the last
time the home where he had spent the three happiest years of his life
with Jessica.