As they proceeded on their strange expedition, she now and then cast a
look sidelong at Clifford, and could not but observe that he was
possessed and swayed by a powerful excitement. It was this, indeed,
that gave him the control which he had at once, and so irresistibly,
established over his movements. It not a little resembled the
exhilaration of wine. Or, it might more fancifully be compared to a
joyous piece of music, played with wild vivacity, but upon a disordered
instrument. As the cracked jarring note might always be heard, and as
it jarred loudest amidst the loftiest exultation of the melody, so was
there a continual quake through Clifford, causing him most to quiver
while he wore a triumphant smile, and seemed almost under a necessity
to skip in his gait.
They met few people abroad, even on passing from the retired
neighborhood of the House of the Seven Gables into what was ordinarily
the more thronged and busier portion of the town. Glistening sidewalks,
with little pools of rain, here and there, along their unequal surface;
umbrellas displayed ostentatiously in the shop-windows, as if the life
of trade had concentrated itself in that one article; wet leaves of the
horse-chestnut or elm-trees, torn off untimely by the blast and
scattered along the public way; an unsightly accumulation of mud in the
middle of the street, which perversely grew the more unclean for its
long and laborious washing,—these were the more definable points of a
very sombre picture. In the way of movement and human life, there was
the hasty rattle of a cab or coach, its driver protected by a
waterproof cap over his head and shoulders; the forlorn figure of an
old man, who seemed to have crept out of some subterranean sewer, and
was stooping along the kennel, and poking the wet rubbish with a stick,
in quest of rusty nails; a merchant or two, at the door of the
post-office, together with an editor and a miscellaneous politician,
awaiting a dilatory mail; a few visages of retired sea-captains at the
window of an insurance office, looking out vacantly at the vacant
street, blaspheming at the weather, and fretting at the dearth as well
of public news as local gossip. What a treasure-trove to these
venerable quidnuncs, could they have guessed the secret which Hepzibah
and Clifford were carrying along with them! But their two figures
attracted hardly so much notice as that of a young girl, who passed at
the same instant, and happened to raise her skirt a trifle too high
above her ankles. Had it been a sunny and cheerful day, they could
hardly have gone through the streets without making themselves
obnoxious to remark. Now, probably, they were felt to be in keeping
with the dismal and bitter weather, and therefore did not stand out in
strong relief, as if the sun were shining on them, but melted into the
gray gloom and were forgotten as soon as gone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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