DEEPER STILL.
WITH bowed head and despair tugging at his heart, Rodney passed through
the noise and business of the streets. He was bent upon seeing over
again the poor place where his wife had died and Nelly been killed. It
was the middle of the morning as he approached it, and as he shrank
from being the object of notice to his former neighbours, he slunk down
the side-alleys and passages, which brought him almost opposite the
building where his home had been. Again he climbed the worn steps and
gave a low knock at his own door, which was quickly answered by a voice
calling, "Come in."
Yes, his home was gone, quite gone. Here was another family on the same
road to ruin as himself, dwelling within the old walls. Upon the hearth
was a woman sitting on a low stool and nursing a wailing baby, with a
bottle in reach of her hand, while the scent of gin, which made every
nerve in him creep and tingle, filled the place.
She looked up with blood-shot eyes: and asked him what his business
might be.
"I'd a friend who lived here once," he said, leaning against the
door-post, for he felt faint and giddy, "John Rodney by name. I suppose
he's gone?"
"Oh! He's dead," answered the woman, "drowned himself: and a good thing
too. Everybody was glad to hear the news. His little girl set herself
afire, and him lying there, the brute, too drunk to stir; couldn't lift
hand or foot to help her. Mrs. Simpson, as lived next door, said how
she see him crawl away after, down them steps and up the street, and
three days after his body was found in the river."
"What did you say about the little girl?" he asked, sick at heart.
"Why! She set herself afire at this very grate, and him lying as it
might be there, and she ran out, all in a flame, down them steps, and
was burned to death. Bless you! I'd lots of folks to see the place,
specially ladies; but they're forgetting it now. I couldn't bear it
at first myself, but I bore up. This 'll help you bear up against
anything."
She laid her hand on the bottle, smiling drearily, and Rodney shivered
and shuddered throughout all his frame. He knew well what it would do
for him: what a warmth, what a genial glow would run through all his
veins, till some, at least, of this deadly sickness of heart would pass
away. In the hospital he had had wine given to him at stated intervals,
and his burden had always seemed lighter after he drank it. Here,
within the narrow compass of these bare walls was the scene of his most
terrible remembrance; but here also the temptation beset him with awful
and renewed strength. He gazed with greedy eyes at the bottle in the
woman's hand.
[Illustration: THE VISIT TO THE OLD HOME.]
"It's all gone," she said, "or I'd have given you a drop."
Rodney turned away without a word, his brain on fire with the old
hellish craving for drink. Some words were running through his mind
with monotonous repetition,—
"Cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame."
Half-way down the narrow street lay a man in the gutter, the butt for
any passer-by to kick at. The children had strewn ashes upon his head
and face, from the dust-heaps which lay before each door, without
disturbing the profound slumber of the drunkard. Rodney stood still and
gazed at him, with a mingled feeling of wonder and envy to think of
what, deep draughts he must have taken, and what utter forgetfulness
had come over him. At length, he passed onwards to the more public
thoroughfares. There was the old frequented gin-palace, with its easily
swinging doors, and its attractive appliances to help the temptation to
conquer him. He could resist no longer; and he did not turn away from
the counter till the whole of the money, given to him to carry him to
his mother's home, was gone.
It was some hours before Rodney came to himself; being hastened to it
by a shove from the foot of the proprietor, who had allowed him to lie
asleep in a corner of the place during the slack hours of the daytime.
It was time for him now to make room for others who had money to spend.
He gathered himself up and stood on his feet, looking drearily into the
man's face.
"Where am I to go to?" he asked. "I've spent my last penny with you.
I haven't got a hole to put my head in, nor a farthing in my pocket.
Where am I to go to?"
"Where you were last night," said the man angrily.
"I came out of the infirmary this morning," he answered, in a
bewildered tone; "where am I to go to to-night?"
"To the workhouse then," said the man; "only out of this anyhow."
He opened the door, and pushed him out.
Rodney tottered to a doorway, and sat down, gazing at the stream of
people constantly passing by, with a rigid and stony face of despair.
It was still twilight, and a crimson flush was tinging the sky
westward, while a fresh invigorating breeze played about his burning
forehead.
"Oh God! Oh God!" he cried within himself. "I meant to have kept that
vow. Where can I hide myself from these places that entrap me? Would to
God they'd take me into some madhouse, and put a strait-waistcoat on
me! I am mad, or the devil is in me. If I could but crawl to some place
where they'd lock me up and keep me from it, if I died for thirst! Oh!
If there were only such a place for a madman like me!"
But there was no place for him, even to shelter him for the night. He
was homeless, without a penny or a friend in the great and busy town.
Or rather, there was one refuge for him—the workhouse. The thought of
going there came dimly to him at first; but by and by he began to see
that it was not merely the only place for him, but it was a place where
he could not be assailed by the sight and smell of the poison which
took away his senses. As long as he could keep to the resolution of
remaining within its walls, he would be preserved from the temptation
of the numberless gin-palaces which met him at every turn. It might be
that after a time, the spell would be broken; the devil's witchcraft
which had cost him so much.
It was a painful pilgrimage, with his heavy feet and despairing spirit,
to make his way to the workhouse. He could only be admitted to the
casual ward for the night; but the next morning he entered, as an
inmate, this last and only refuge.
"God help me," he said to himself, "God help me to keep inside these
walls. I daren't trust myself in the streets. If there's any chance for
me, it's here."
[Illustration]