The daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1848-1851, 1849-01-26
Do,'s Christmas Gale.
THE HAUNTED MAN AND THE GHOSTS
BARGAIN....A FANCY FOR CHRIsTMAs-TIME.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.

| BY CHARLES DICKENS.
[Continued.I
" am come here to give relief if can - t9 said
| "Are You thinking of any wrong %
! She frowned at him, and then laughed and then
her laugh prolonged itself into a shivering sigh as
she dropped her head again, and hid her fingers in
her hair.
Are you thinking of a wrong ?" he asked once
| more.
" am thinking of my life, - she said, with mo-
| mentary look at him.
He had perception that she was one of MANY
and that he saw the type of thousands, when he
saw her, dropping al his feet.
What your parents 20 he demanded.
= had good home once. My father was gar
dener, far away, in the country
| :" Is he dead 20
He s dead to me- All such things are dead to
| me. You gentleman, and not know thatr' She
| raised her eyes again. and laughed at him.
Girl! said Redlaw, sternly, Sc before this death
of all such things was brought about was there no
| wrong done to you! In spite of all that you can
do, does no remembrance of wrongs cleave to you
Are there not times upon times, when it is misery
to you 20
| So little of what was womanly was left in her
| appearance, that now, when she burst into tears
| he stood amazed. But he was more amazed and
| much dlsquieted, to note that in her awakened
recollection of this wrong the first trace Of her old
humanity and frozen tenderness appeared to show
! itself.
He drew little off, and, in doing so, observed
,hdI her arms were Dack, ler lace cut, and her
| bosom bruised.
what brutal hand has hurt You 20 he asked
quickly
g 1t is IMPOSSIBLE ~
81 II swear did He did MT touch me. | did
1t to myself, IN passion, and threw myself down
here. lie was Mt near me. He never laid hand
upon me -
In the whole determination of her face, confront
ing him with this untruth, he saw enough of the
last perverslon and distortion of good surviving in
that miserable breast TO be stricken with remOrse
that he had ever come near her.
" Sorrow, wrong and trouble ~ he muttered
turning his fearful gaze away ''All that connects
her with the state from which she has fallen has
these roots! In the name of God, let me go by''
Afraid 10 look at her again. afraid to touch her,
AFRAID to think of having sundered the last thread
by which she held upon the mercy of Heaven he
gathered his cloak about him, and glided swiftly up
the stairs.
Opposite to him, on the landing, was door,
which stood partly open, and which, as he ascend
ed, a man, with a candle in his hand. came for
ward from within TO shut But this man, on seeing
him, drew back, with much emotion in his manner,
and, as If by sudden impulse, mentioned his name
aloud.
In the surprise of such a recognition there, he
stopped, endeavOrng TO recollect the and
startled lace He had no time to consider it, for,
to his yet greater amazement, old Philip came ont
OF the room, and took him by the hand.
you, this is like you, sir you have heard of it, and
have come after us to render any help you can.
All, too late, too late 20
Redlaw, with bewidered look, submitted to be
led into the room. A man lay there, on truckle
bed, and William Swidger stood at the bedside
"Too late - murmured the old man. looking
wistfully into the Chemists face and the tears
stole down his cheeks.
That s what say, father" interposed his son,
IN low voice. "Ihat s where it is. exactly. To
E.lan
is the only thing to do. You re right, father!''
Redlaw paused at the bedside and looked down |
upon the figure that stretched upon the matrass
1t was that of man who should have been in the |
vlgor OF his life, but on whom it was not likely |
that the sun would ever shine again. The vices of |
his forty or fifty years career had so branded him.
that, IN comparison with their effects upon his face
the heavy hand OF time upon the old mans face |
who watched him, had been merciful and beauti- |
flying. |
"Who is this" asked the chemist, looking
round. |
My son George, Mr.. Redlaw.'' said the old |
man, wringing his hands. My eldests George,
who was more his mothers pride than all the rest, -
Redlaw's eyes wandered from the old mans |
gray head, as he laid it down upon the bed to the
person who had recognized him, and who had kept
aioof, In the remotest corner of the room. He
seemed TO be about his own age and although he
knew no such hopelessy decayed and broken man
as he appeared to be, there was something in the
him, and now went out at the door, that made him
pass his hand uneasily across his brow.
William, " he said in gloomy whisper, " who
is that MANI
''Why, you see, SIR returned Mr. William.
s. that s what / say, myself Why should man |
ever go and gamble, and the like of that, and let
himself down inch by inch till can t let himself
down any lower?'
g Has he done SOL asked Redlaw, glancing
after him with the same uneasy action as before.
Inst DptIIy hot
ger, :" as I'm told. He knows a little about medi-
cine, sir, it seems; and having been waylaring
toward London with my unhappy brother that You
see here, Mr. William passed his coat sleeve across
his eyes, land being lodging up stairs for the
night-what | say, Won see is that strange com |
panions come together here sOmetmes-he looked
In TO attend upon him, and came for US at his re-
quest. What mournfnl spectacle, sir . But that's
where it is. It's enough to kill my father .
Redlaw looked up at these words, and, recalling
where he was and with whom, and the spell he
carried with himwhich his surprise had obscured--
retired little, hurriedly, debating with himself |
whether to shun the house that moment, or remain.
Yielding to certain suen doggedness, which it
seemed to be part OF his condition to struggle with
he argued for remaining.
" Was it only yesterday he said, g when OBJ
served the memory of this old man to be tissue of
sorrow and trouble, and shall be afraid, tonight,
10 shake it. Are such membranes as | can
drive away so precious to this diving man that | |
need fear for him ? Mo- I'll stay here |
But he stayed, in fear and trembling none the less
for these words and, shrouded IN his black cloak,
with his face turned from them, stood away from
the bedside listening to what they said, if he felt
himself a demon in the place.
. Father - murmured the sick man, rallying
little from his stupor |
" My boy. my son George - said old Philip.
You SPOKE just now, of my being mothers IA
VorIte long ago. It's dreadful thing to think now,
Of long ago.'
. No. no, no; " returned the old man. ''Think
OF 1t. Don't say it's dreadful It's not dreadful to
me, my SON.
. 1t cuts you to the heart, father For the old
mans tears were falling on him.
." Yes, yes" said Philip, g SO it Does but it does
me good. It's heavy sorrow TO think of that time
but it does me good, George. Oh, think of it too,
think of it too, and your heart will be softened