The former notion
of dying in the fields recurs to him now; and wretched indeed must he
be, since even that desperate thought has a sort of comfort in it. But
he is too weary to seek out some suitably retired spot to take cold
leave of life in. On every side is darkness; on every side, wild storm.
Why endeavor to drag farther his benumbed limbs? As well stretch himself
here, upon this wet wintry sod, as anywhere. He has the presumption to
do it,--never considering how deeply he may injure a fine gentleman's
feelings by dying at his door.
Tiger does not bark him away, but only dreams of barking, in his cozy
kennel. Close by are the windows of the mansion, glowing with light.
There beat the philanthropic hearts; there smiles the pale, pensive
lady; there beams the aspiring face of her son; and there sits the
Judge, with his feet on the rug, pleasantly contemplating the good his
speech will do, and thinking quite as much, perhaps, of the fame it will
bring him,--happily unconscious alike of his neighbor's malicious jest,
and of the real victim of that jest, lying out there in the tempest and
freezing rain.
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