Холодний дім

Esther’s Narrative

           MycompanionsmokingontheboxIhadthoughtatthelastinnofbegginghimtodosowhenIsawhimstandingatagreatfireinacomfortablecloudoftobaccowasasvigilantaseverandasquicklydownandupagainwhenwecametoanyhumanabodeoranyhumancreature.Hehadlightedhislittledarklantern,whichseemedtobeafavouritewithhim,forwehadlampstothecarriage;andeverynowandthenheturnedituponmetoseethatIwasdoingwell.Therewasafolding-windowtothecarriage-head,butIneverclosedit,foritseemedlikeshuttingouthope.Wecametotheendofthestage,andstillthelosttracewasnotrecovered.Ilookedathimanxiouslywhenwestoppedtochange,butIknewbyhisyetgraverfaceashestoodwatchingtheostlersthathehadheardnothing.Almostinaninstantafterwards,asIleanedbackinmyseat,helookedin,withhislightedlanterninhishand,anexcitedandquitedifferentman."Whatisit?"saidI,starting."Isshehere?""No,no.Don’tdeceiveyourself,mydear.Nobody’shere.ButI’vegotit!"Thecrystallizedsnowwasinhiseyelashes,inhishair,lyinginridgesonhisdress.Hehadtoshakeitfromhisfaceandgethisbreathbeforehespoketome."Now,MissSummerson,"saidhe,beatinghisfingerontheapron,"don’tyoubedisappointedatwhatI’ma-goingtodo.Youknowme.I’mInspectorBucket,andyoucantrustme.We’vecomealongway;nevermind.Fourhorsesoutthereforthenextstageup!Quick!"Therewasacommotionintheyard,andamancamerunningoutofthestablestoknowifhemeantupordown.

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