Холодний дім

Esther’s Narrative

           ForthesamereasonIamalmostafraidtohintatthattimeinmydisorder—itseemedonelongnight,butIbelievetherewerebothnightsanddaysinit—whenIlabouredupcolossalstaircases,everstrivingtoreachthetop,andeverturned,asIhaveseenaworminagardenpath,bysomeobstruction,andlabouringagain.Iknewperfectlyatintervals,andIthinkvaguelyatmosttimes,thatIwasinmybed;andItalkedwithCharley,andfelthertouch,andknewherverywell;yetIwouldfindmyselfcomplaining,"Oh,moreofthesenever-endingstairs,Charley—moreandmore—pileduptothesky’,Ithink!"andlabouringonagain.DareIhintatthatworsetimewhen,strungtogethersomewhereingreatblackspace,therewasaflamingnecklace,orring,orstarrycircleofsomekind,ofwhichIwasoneofthebeads!Andwhenmyonlyprayerwastobetakenofffromtherestandwhenitwassuchinexplicableagonyandmiserytobeapartofthedreadfulthing?PerhapsthelessIsayofthesesickexperiences,thelesstediousandthemoreintelligibleIshallbe.IdonotrecallthemtomakeothersunhappyorbecauseIamnowtheleastunhappyinrememberingthem.Itmaybethatifweknewmoreofsuchstrangeafflictionswemightbethebetterabletoalleviatetheirintensity.Thereposethatsucceeded,thelongdelicioussleep,theblissfulrest,wheninmyweaknessIwastoocalmtohaveanycareformyselfandcouldhaveheard(orsoIthinknow)thatIwasdying,withnootheremotionthanwithapityingloveforthoseIleftbehind—thisstatecanbeperhapsmorewidelyunderstood.

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