'Winter came, and with it weeks of cold and heavy rain. The poor girl

had removed to a wretched apartment close to the spot of her

husband's imprisonment; and though the change had been rendered

necessary by their increasing poverty, she was happier now, for she

was nearer him. For two months, she and her little companion

watched the opening of the gate as usual. One day she failed to come,

for the first time. Another morning arrived, and she came alone. The

child was dead.

They little know, who coldly talk of the poor man's bereavements, as a

happy release from pain to the departed, and a merciful relief from

expense to the survivor - they little know, I say, what the agony of

those bereavements is. A silent look of affection and regard when all

other eyes are turned coldly away - the consciousness that we

possess the sympathy and affection of one being when all others have

deserted us - is a hold, a stay, a comfort, in the deepest affliction,

which no wealth could purchase, or power bestow. The child had sat

at his parents' feet for hours together, with his little hands patiently

folded in each other, and his thin wan face raised towards them. They

had seen him pine away, from day to day; and though his brief

existence had been a joyless one, and he was now removed to that

peace and rest which, child as he was, he had never known in this

world, they were his parents, and his loss sank deep into their souls.

'It was plain to those who looked upon the mother's altered face, that

death must soon close the scene of her adversity and trial. Her

husband's fellow-prisoners shrank from obtruding on his grief and

misery, and left to himself alone, the small room he had previously

occupied in common with two companions. She shared it with him;

and lingering on without pain, but without hope, her life ebbed slowly

away.

'She had fainted one evening in her husband's arms, and he had

borne her to the open window, to revive her with the air, when the

light of the moon falling full upon her face, showed him a change

upon her features, which made him stagger beneath her weight, like a

helpless infant.

'‘Set me down, George,’ she said faintly. He did so, and seating himself

beside her, covered his face with his hands, and burst into tears.

‘It is very hard to leave you, George,’ she said; ‘but it is God's will, and

you must bear it for my sake. Oh! how I thank Him for having taken

our boy! He is happy, and in heaven now. What would he have done

here, without his mother!’

'‘You shall not die, Mary, you shall not die;’ said the husband, starting

up. He paced hurriedly to and fro, striking his head with his clenched

The Pickwick Papers