DOI article:
Mew, Charlotte Mary: Passed
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.21215#0139
By Charlotte M. Mew 135
Then light indeed forsook me. Almost ignorant of my own
Intention, I resisted the now trembling figure, indistinguishable
in the gloom, but it still clung. I thrust it off me with un-
natural vigour.
She feil heavily to the ground. Without a pause of thought I
stumbled down the horrible unlighted stairs. A few Steps before
I reached the bottom my foot Struck a splint off the thin edge of
one of the rotten treads. I slipped, and heard a door above open
and then shut. No other sound. At length I was at the door.
It was ajar. I opened itand looked out. Since I passed through
it first the place had become quite deserted. The inhabitants
were, I suppose, all occupied elsewhere at such an hour on their
holiday night. The lamps, if there were any, had not been lit.
The outlook was dense blackness. Here too the hideous dark
pursued me and silence held its sway. Even the children were
screaming in more enticing haunts of gaudy squalor. Some,
whose good angels perhaps had not forgotten them, had put
themselves to sleep. Not many hours ago their shrieks were
deafening. Were these too in conspiracy against me ? I
remembered vaguely hustling some of them with unmeant harsh-
ness in my hurried progress from the Church. Dumb the whole
place seemed ; and it was, but for the dim Stars aloft, quite dark.
I dared not venture across the threshold, bound by pitiable
cowardice to the spot. Alas for the unconscious girl upstairs.
A murmur from within the house might have sent me back to
her. Certainly it would have sent me, rather than forth into the
empty street. The faintest indication of humanity had recalled
me. I waited the summons of a sound. It came.
But from the deserted, yet not so shamefully deserted, street.
A man staggering home by aid of friendly railings, set up a
drunken song. At the first note I rushed towards him, pushing
past
Then light indeed forsook me. Almost ignorant of my own
Intention, I resisted the now trembling figure, indistinguishable
in the gloom, but it still clung. I thrust it off me with un-
natural vigour.
She feil heavily to the ground. Without a pause of thought I
stumbled down the horrible unlighted stairs. A few Steps before
I reached the bottom my foot Struck a splint off the thin edge of
one of the rotten treads. I slipped, and heard a door above open
and then shut. No other sound. At length I was at the door.
It was ajar. I opened itand looked out. Since I passed through
it first the place had become quite deserted. The inhabitants
were, I suppose, all occupied elsewhere at such an hour on their
holiday night. The lamps, if there were any, had not been lit.
The outlook was dense blackness. Here too the hideous dark
pursued me and silence held its sway. Even the children were
screaming in more enticing haunts of gaudy squalor. Some,
whose good angels perhaps had not forgotten them, had put
themselves to sleep. Not many hours ago their shrieks were
deafening. Were these too in conspiracy against me ? I
remembered vaguely hustling some of them with unmeant harsh-
ness in my hurried progress from the Church. Dumb the whole
place seemed ; and it was, but for the dim Stars aloft, quite dark.
I dared not venture across the threshold, bound by pitiable
cowardice to the spot. Alas for the unconscious girl upstairs.
A murmur from within the house might have sent me back to
her. Certainly it would have sent me, rather than forth into the
empty street. The faintest indication of humanity had recalled
me. I waited the summons of a sound. It came.
But from the deserted, yet not so shamefully deserted, street.
A man staggering home by aid of friendly railings, set up a
drunken song. At the first note I rushed towards him, pushing
past