place for his head, he tossed his hand out of the bed, and it fell on

mine. He started up, and stared eagerly in my face.

‘Mr Hutley, John,’ said his wife; ‘Mr Hutley, that you sent for to-night,

you know.’

‘Ah!’ said the invalid, passing his hand across his forehead; ‘Hutley -

Hutley - let me see.’ He seemed endeavouring to collect his thoughts

for a few seconds, and then grasping me tightly by the wrist said,

‘Don't leave me - don't leave me, old fellow. She'll murder me; I know

she will.’

'‘Has he been long so?’ said I, addressing his weeping wife.

‘Since yesterday night,’ she replied. ‘John, John, don't you know me?’

‘Don't let her come near me,’ said the man, with a shudder, as she

stooped over him. ‘Drive her away; I can't bear her near me.’ He stared

wildly at her, with a look of deadly apprehension, and then whispered

in my ear, ‘I beat her, Jem; I beat her yesterday, and many times

before. I have starved her and the boy too; and now I am weak and

helpless, Jem, she'll murder me for it; I know she will. If you'd seen

her cry, as I have, you'd know it too. Keep her off.’ He relaxed his

grasp, and sank back exhausted on the pillow. 'I knew but too well

what all this meant. If I could have entertained any doubt of it, for an

instant, one glance at the woman's pale face and wasted form would

have sufficiently explained the real state of the case. ‘You had better

stand aside,’ said I to the poor creature. ‘You can do him no good.

Perhaps he will be calmer, if he does not see you.’ She retired out of

the man's sight. He opened his eyes after a few seconds, and looked

anxiously round.

‘Is she gone?’ he eagerly inquired.

‘Yes - yes,’ said I; ‘she shall not hurt you.’

‘I'll tell you what, Jem,’ said the man, in a low voice, ‘she does hurt

me. There's something in her eyes wakes such a dreadful fear in my

heart, that it drives me mad. All last night, her large, staring eyes and

pale face were close to mine; wherever I turned, they turned; and

whenever I started up from my sleep, she was at the bedside looking

at me.’ He drew me closer to him, as he said in a deep alarmed

whisper, ‘Jem, she must be an evil spirit - a devil! Hush! I know she

is. If she had been a woman she would have died long ago. No woman

could have borne what she has.’

I sickened at the thought of the long course of cruelty and neglect

which must have occurred to produce such an impression on such a

The Pickwick Papers