The Old Curiosity Shop


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It was late when the old man came home. The boy had led him to his  
own dwelling, under some pretence, on their way back; and, rendered  
drowsy by his long ramble and late want of rest, he had sunk into a  
deep sleep by the fireside. He was perfectly exhausted, and they were  
careful not to rouse him. The slumber held him a long time, and when  
he at length awoke the moon was shining.  
The younger brother, uneasy at his protracted absence, was watching  
at the door for his coming, when he appeared in the pathway with his  
little guide. He advanced to meet them, and tenderly obliging the old  
man to lean upon his arm, conducted him with slow and trembling  
steps towards the house.  
He repaired to her chamber, straight. Not finding what he had left  
there, he returned with distracted looks to the room in which they  
were assembled. From that, he rushed into the schoolmaster's  
cottage, calling her name. They followed close upon him, and when he  
had vainly searched it, brought him home.  
With such persuasive words as pity and affection could suggest, they  
prevailed upon him to sit among them and hear what they should tell  
him. Then endeavouring by every little artifice to prepare his mind for  
what must come, and dwelling with many fervent words upon the  
happy lot to which she had been removed, they told him, at last, the  
truth. The moment it had passed their lips, he fell down among them  
like a murdered man.  
For many hours, they had little hope of his surviving; but grief is  
strong, and he recovered.  
If there be any who have never known the blank that follows death -  
the weary void - the sense of desolation that will come upon the  
strongest minds, when something familiar and beloved is missed at  
every turn - the connection between inanimate and senseless things,  
and the object of recollection, when every household god becomes a  
monument and every room a grave - if there be any who have not  
known this, and proved it by their own experience, they can never  
faintly guess how, for many days, the old man pined and moped away  
the time, and wandered here and there as seeking something, and had  
no comfort.  
Whatever power of thought or memory he retained, was all bound up  
in her. He never understood, or seemed to care to understand, about  
his brother. To every endearment and attention he continued listless.  
If they spoke to him on this, or any other theme - save one - he would  
hear them patiently for awhile, then turn away, and go on seeking as  
before.  


Page
518 519 520 521 522

Quick Jump
1 133 265 398 530