*CHAPTER VII*
*Snared*
Hope Deferred--Motes in the Sunbeam--Mynheer makes an Offer--Sherebiahon Guard--New Quarters--Tumblers--Solvitur Ambulando--Doubling--Sick atHeart--Too Late--A Debit Balance--Gloom--Cold Streets--ThreeSailors--Muffled
Several days passed--days of unfailing happiness for Harry. Though hespent hours in roaming the town, there was always something fresh tosee, something novel to capture his interest. He saw the state entranceof the new Venetian ambassador. He visited the Tower, the Abbey, andSt. Paul's, saw Winstanley's water-works in Piccadilly near Hyde Park,and witnessed a football match at Covent Garden. He accompaniedFanshawe several times to the theatre, and somewhat offended thatsparkish young gentleman by constantly refusing to join him incard-parties and night escapades in the streets. He saw a back-swordmatch at the Bear Garden in Hockley in the Hole, and a billiard match atthe Greyhound Coffee-house near Monmouth Street. Apart from these publicsights, he found endless diversion in the ordinary street scenes: themarkets, the itinerant vendors, the acrobats, or posture-masters as theywere then called, who performed their dancing and tumbling in squaresremote from the traffic. It amused Harry that Sherebiah never tired ofthese mountebank tricks, but would stand and watch them with unflagginginterest by the hour, applauding every neatly executed feat, andcriticising with unsparing severity every instance of clumsiness orbungling. Soldiers, on the other hand, apparently did not interestSherebiah. Harry liked to watch them drilling on the Horse Guards'parade or in Hyde Park; but on these occasions Sherebiah always strolledaway, waiting with impatience until his young master had satisfied hiscuriosity.
"They won't kill you, Sherry," said Harry once, laughing as the mansheered off. "Their muskets are not loaded."
"True. But 'tis no pleasure to me to see such men o' war. Feyther o'mine were a trooper; he be always talken on it; I be a man o' peace, Ibe."
Every day when he came down to breakfast, and when he returned in theevening, Harry eagerly looked for a message from Lord Marlborough. Butthe days passed; a week flew by; and still no message came. After thesecond day he made no reference to the matter; Sherebiah and Grootzconsiderately forbore to allude to it. But they watched him with shrewdeyes, and saw, through all the curiosity and pleasure he took in his newlife, a growing sense of disappointment and anxiety. He had built highhopes upon the interview at Godolphin's; as boys will, he had allowedhis fancy to outstrip his judgment, and had added a good deal ofembroidery to the simple facts. Already in imagination he saw himselfcarrying the Queen's colours, performing heroic deeds in the field,winning golden opinions from the general, coming home laden with honourand substantial rewards, perhaps to gain, as the acme of bliss, anapproving smile from the Queen herself. And he would wake from theseday-dreams to the sober reality---that the desired message fromMarlborough had not come, and meanwhile time was fleeting by, and everyday saw his little stock of money diminished.
He had resisted Fanshawe's recommendation to change his lodging.Charges were higher, Sherebiah informed him, in the more fashionableparts, and he knew that he could not afford to run risks. At first hehad not been parsimonious; he was not extravagant by nature, but he hadnot hesitated to buy a trifle that pleased him, to give largesse to theballad-singers and street musicians, to pay his eighteenpence for a seatin the pit at Drury Lane or Lincoln's Inn Fields. But he gave all thisup, and thought twice about spending a penny. He bought only thestrictest necessaries, and for his amusement depended on the sights ofthe streets, the parks, and the river, and such entertainment as couldbe had at the coffee-houses, where for a penny he could obtain a dish ofcoffee, read the _Daily Courant_ with its manuscript supplement, orDawks's _News Letter_, and hear all the news of the day discussed withmore heat than information by arm-chair politicians.
One day the _Courant_ announced that the Queen had been pleased toconfer the dignity of a dukedom upon the Earl of Marlborough, and thatthe House of Commons would be asked to grant him an annual pension tomatch his new rank. Harry remembered what he had heard pass betweenMarlborough and Godolphin, and when the coffee-house gossipssupplemented the official intimation with the rumour that the CountessSarah had been violently opposed to her husband's elevation in thepeerage, he understood the meaning of the peculiar tone in whichMarlborough had spoken of acquainting her ladyship. The new duchess wasthe theme of much conversation and many jests in these free-spokenassemblies. Marlborough was a very great general; everybody was agreedon that; but it was doubted whether he was master in his own house; somesaid he was henpecked; one plain blunt fellow declared in Harry'shearing that the duke was as much afraid of his missis as any Thamesbargee. Harry was not interested in Marlborough's domestic affairs, buthis heart sank when he reflected on his own insignificance beside thegreat man whom the Queen was delighting to honour. After all, how couldhe expect a man of such eminence, immersed in state affairs, with allthe responsibility for conducting a great campaign, to remember acountry youth whom he had seen once, and who had made, perhaps, as deepan impression on him as a fly might make on a lion.
That night Harry was eating his supper, somewhat moodily, when MynheerGrootz, sitting opposite, made him a sudden proposition.
"I tell you dis," he said. "I go back to my country zoon. I havebusiness wid de armies; I sell hay for de horses, meal for de men. Youare quick, I see dat; you speak French, enough for my purpose; I giveyou good wages if you come and help me in my business."
Harry flushed. The Dutchman dipped a hunk of bread into his soup andfilled his mouth with it, looking down at the bare deal board the while.
"I thank you, Mynheer," said Harry with some constraint. "I haveanother purpose, as you know."
Up came the fat forefinger, moist with gravy.
"I speak plain to you. You have pride; I alzo. But I have mills, andships, and vields; dey are mine; I am rich--ja, rich; I, Jan Grootz. Myfader, he was a poor weaver in Dort; he work hard and die poor; I workhard, and grow rich. I have what for to be proud. You are a gentleman;dat is zo; it is good to be a gentleman; it is not good to be poor. Andmore, it is not good to zee money go every day, every day, and wait forsome prince to fill de empty purse. You have pride; for what? Forwhite hands, and by and by an empty stomach. My hands, dey are notwhite, naturlik; but my stomach is full, and I stand up before anyprince; Jan Grootz; zo!"
He spread his broad hands before Harry, as though he were proud even oftheir horny skin. The action brought a smile to the lad's gloomy faceand dulled the edge of his irritation.
"I won't debate the matter with you," he said. "I'm not afraid of work,I hope, and maybe my white hands may be red enough before long. I won'tdespair of my lord Marlborough yet; and I know your intention isfriendly, Mynheer."
The Dutchman grunted, and applied himself again to his meal.
Great as were Harry's anxieties, Sherebiah's were perhaps even greater.He also was disappointed by the forgetfulness or neglect of Marlborough,and concerned at the constant drain upon his young master's purse; buthe had further causes of trouble of which Harry was unaware. Ever sincetheir arrival in London Sherebiah had been possessed by a dread ofimpending ill. He had always in mind the interview between CaptainAglionby and the squire's man at the White Hart tavern, and day by dayexpected it to bear fruit to Harry's harm; but for reasons of his own hehesitated to tell him the plain truth. He stuck like a leech to Harrywhen he went walking, and many times when the lad would rather have beenalone with his dismal thoughts he found Sherebiah at his heel, like thewatch-dog to which he had compared him. He did not know that even whenhe succeeded in eluding his too solicitous henchman, it was only inappearance; for Sherebiah, armed with a stout ash cudgel, was seldommany yards behind. Many a night after Harry had gone disconsolate tohis bed, the man wended his way to Southwark in the hope of making afurther discovery; but he never saw the captain or anyone whom he knewto be connected with him, and when at last he found an opport
unity ofmaking a discreet enquiry at the hostelry, he was more alarmed thanpleased to find that Captain Aglionby had departed some time before, andthat nothing had since been heard of him.
One morning, when they had been for about a month in London, whenParliament had been prorogued, and a new year had opened, Sherebiahsurprised Harry by suggesting that they should remove to an inn nearLeicester fields.
"Why, you were against it when Mr. Fanshawe proposed it. How is it thatyou have changed your mind, Sherry?"
"Well, sir, 'tis this way, if I med be so bold. Your money be gwinefast, and 'twould never do to begin a more humble way o' liven here.Nay, what I say is, if you must pare and scrape, go where you bean't sowell known, and then nobody'll think the worse on 'ee for't."
"Hang me, who talked of paring and scraping, Sherry?" cried Harryimpatiently.
"I axe your pardon, sir," said Sherebiah earnestly, "but I were not bornyesterday. Here are we, four weeks in Lun'on, and you know yourself howmany golden guineas you brought wi' 'ee, and how many be left. Sure Ibean't a great eater myself, but even my little small morsel ha' got tobe paid for. Master Harry, 'twill be best for 'ee to do as I say. Ay,an' if I knowed 'ee wouldn't up and rate me, I'd say another thing, Iwould so."
"Well--what's that?"
"Why, I'd say, hand over your purse to me. Nay, sir, don't be angry;ye're not wasteful, no; but if we go to another house, I can save 'eemany a penny here and penny there in ways you wouldn't so much as dreamon. I know Lun'on folk, you see; ay, I know 'em well."
In the upshot, Sherebiah had his way on both points. The reason for hischange of front was that on the previous afternoon he had seen thesquire's man Jock hanging about the inn, and had found out subsequentlythat Captain Aglionby had returned to his old quarters at the WhiteHart. It was just as well, he thought, to take one step further fromdanger by changing their lodging. When this was done, and Sherebiahkept the purse, Harry was amazed to find how much further his moneywent. It would not have surprised him if the weekly bill had beenreduced by a small amount; but when he discovered that, though he faredquite as well, the expenses were not half what they had been, he beganto think that Sherebiah possessed some talisman against the cupidity ofLondon innkeepers. He found, too, that he was left much more tohimself, and wondered why, with the change of lodging, Sherebiah'swatchfulness appeared to have diminished.
He was walking with Godfrey Fanshawe one cold January afternoon by PyeCorner, when he was attracted by a crowd of people gazing at a streetshow that, to judge by their laughter and applause, was exceedinglyentertaining. Elbowing their way through the stragglers on theoutskirts, the two young fellows arrived at a position whence they couldsee what was going on. A group of posture-masters were performing, andat the moment of Harry's arrival, a short thickset man, dressed infantastic costume, and with painted face, was dancing on his knees withhis toes in his hands, keeping time to the music of a flute and aviolin. The tune was a merry one, and the movements of the acrobatirresistibly funny, so that every member of the crowd roared withlaughter.
"Adzooks!" exclaimed Fanshawe, "the fellow's face is the funniest partof the performance. Look'ee, Harry, 'tis as sober as a judge's onassize; one would think 'twere a hanging matter."
Harry had been so tickled by this odd mode of dancing that he had notnoticed the performer's features. He glanced at them now, started witha sudden gasp, and cried:
"By the Lord Harry, 'tis----"
"'Tis what?" said Fanshawe, looking at him in surprise.
"Oh, nothing!"
"Come, I scent a mystery. Unravel, sir!"
"'Tis nothing. See, Fanshawe, the dance is over. Let us go on."
Without waiting for his companion, he pushed his way back through thecrowd.
"Faith, I don't understand you of late, Rochester," said Fanshawe in ahalf-vexed tone, when he overtook him. "You're moody, full of whimsies,all starts and surprises. Would to Heaven that the duke would bethinkhim of that paper you gave him! You need settling in life. Why don'tyou go to him, or to Lord Godolphin again? 'Tis few suitors but wouldshow more perseverance."
"Not I. 'Twas against the grain to beg even one favour. I'd ratherearn my bread by scraping a fiddle, or dancing on my knees like--likethe poor fellow there."
"Well, let me tell you, you'll rue your independence. Adsbud, who wouldget on in this world if he didn't pay court to the great! Yourstarveling poet writes a flattering dedication to a lord--for pay! Yoursnivelling parson toadies to the lord of the manor--for a meal! Iexcept your father, Harry; he was a rare one. 'Tis the way o' theworld; we must all do it, or pay the penalty."
"Be the penalty what it will, I'll pay it rather than play lick-spittleto any man."
Fanshawe shrugged. "By the way," he said, "Mr. Berkeley is in town--topay his court to someone, I swear. 'Tis said he is buying a commissionfor that cub his son; pray Heaven it be not in my regiment! That's theway o' the world again. Here's Piers Berkeley, the young popinjay, allgrins and frippery, like to carry the Queen's colours in a fine regimentbecause his father has a long purse, and you, a deal more fit for it,kicking your heels for want of a rich father or a richer patron. I fear'tis all up with your chances now; but I wish you luck. I go toFlanders in a week; home to-morrow to say good-bye; who knows when wemay meet again!"
The two friends bade each other a cordial farewell; then Harry returnedsadly to his lodging. Some two hours later Sherebiah came back.
"What do 'ee think, Master Harry?" he said. "I ha' seed old Squire."
"I knew he was in town," replied Harry. "And what do you think I'veseen, Sherry?"
Detecting a something strange in his tone, Sherebiah gave him a hardlook.
"I never was no good at guessen," he said. "Mebbe the German giant atHercules' Pillars, or the liven fairy in Bridges Street."
"No, 'twas no giant and no fairy, but a short man--about your height,Sherry--with a round face--just as round as yours--and a solemnlook--like yours at whiles; and what think you he was doing? He wasdancing on his knees, with a crowd of numskulls round him grinning athis capers, and----"
"There now, 'twas sure to be found out, I knowed it. 'Twas me--I don'tdeny it, 'cos bean't no good."
"Now I know why you wanted to keep the purse, you old dissembler. Youeke out my little store with the pence your antics fetch. Sherry, Ilove thee; I do indeed. But how did you learn those fantastic trickswith your knees?"
"Oh, I ha' done a bit o' tumblen in my time; ay sure."
"You seem to have done a bit of everything. But when? and why? Youmust tell me all about it."
"Some day mebbe. Ha' led a motley life for a man o' peace; so 'tis.'Twould make old feyther o' mine drop all his old bones in a heap if sobe as he knowed all my lines o' life. The time'll come to tell 'ee,sir, but 'tis not yet, no."
That was the end of Sherebiah's acrobatic performances. From that day hestuck to Harry more closely than ever; and the weekly bills increased.They had been in town now for nearly two months, and by dint of thegreatest economy Sherebiah thought that the money might last for afortnight longer. Then the wolf would be at the door. Harry had nottold his man of Jan Grootz's offer, though he surmised, from a wordSherebiah let fall, that he knew of it. Hoping against hope, he waitedand longed for some sign from the duke. Every day Sherebiah went to theAngel and Crown to see if a letter had come, and every day he came backdisappointed. He had not given the host his new address, for reasons ofhis own; and when on one of his visits he learnt that a man had enquiredfor the present whereabouts of Mr. Harry Rochester, he hugged himself onhis prudence. He would not have been so well pleased if he had knownthat on the very next day, when he returned from the Angel and Crown bya roundabout way to his inn in Leicester Fields, he was shadowed by aman who had waited for several hours for the opportunity. And he wouldundoubtedly have counselled a second change of abode if he had knownthat the spy, after assuring himself that Harry Rochester was a guest ofthe inn, had gone hotfoot to Captain Aglionb
y.
Another week went by. On Saturday night Sherebiah counted up thecontents of his purse, and found that by the end of the next week hewould have spent the uttermost farthing.
"I give it back to 'ee, sir," he said. "Come Monday morn, I go to findwork."
"Not so fast, Sherry. We share alike; when you go to find work, I gotoo. The duke may send for me even at the eleventh hour."
"A plague on the duke! I wish I may never hear of dukes again to th'end o' my mortal days. A duke's a bubble, and that's the truth on't.Better be an honest man, as Mynheer Grootz says."
"'Tis mere forgetfulness, I am sure, Sherry. He has mislaid the paper,I suspect, and his mind being filled with weightier matters, hasforgotten that even so insignificant a person as myself exists."
"'Tis my belief he never did a kindness to man, woman, or child in allhis born days. Why, all the chairmen and hackney coachmen know un; ay,and madam his duchess too. My lady will haggle with an oyster-wenchover a ha'penny, and the only thing my lord gives away for nowt is hissmile. Hang dukes and duchesses, say I!"
"Well, Sherry, I can't gainsay you, because I don't know. We'll givehim three days' grace, and then----"
He sighed. The world looked black to him. He knew no trade, hadpractised no art, had no means to enter a profession. He turned over inhis mind the possible openings. He could not apprentice himself to amerchant or handicraftsman, for that needed money. He might perhaps geta clerkship in a goldsmith's or a warehouse; Sir Godfrey Fanshawe, nodoubt, would vouch for his respectability! He almost envied the footmenof gentlemen of quality, who wore a livery, earned six pounds a year,and a crown a week extra for gloves and powder. He writhed on hissleepless bed that night as he contrasted his present circumstances withhis former prospects and his recent imaginings. A clergyman,--anofficer of the Queen's, forsooth! he was a pauper, a beggar, withnothing but his health and his wits. Then he rated himself for hisdespondency. "Fancy snivelling," he said to himself, "because a dukehasn't the grace or the time to remember a promise! What would myfather think of me? Here have I wasted precious time waiting on a duke'spleasure when I might have been turning the weeks to some profit. And Iwas too proud to accept the Dutchman's friendly offer. Egad, I'll go tohim on Monday and beg him to give me employment; sink my pride for goodand all."
So possessed was he by his determination that Sunday passed all tooslowly. On Monday morning he walked early to the Angel and Crown andasked for Mynheer Grootz. The landlord replied that Mynheer Grootz hadleft the inn on Friday, removing all his baggage. He was about to sailfor Holland, and, as the wind favoured, it was probable that his shiphad already left the Thames. This news was a terrible damper. Harryhad built confidently on the anticipated interview. Mingled with hisgratitude for the coming favour, he even felt a pleasant glow at hiscondescension in accepting service so much beneath him. And now this newhouse of cards was toppled down! He turned gloomily away, and wanderedaimlessly through the streets, disposed, under the first sting of thedisappointment, to believe that fate had indeed a spite against him. Hewas glad he had said nothing to Sherebiah of his intention, being in nomood to endure condolences, in word or look. "What a useless loon Iam!" he said to himself bitterly. "Sherry can earn his living bytumbling in the streets, and maybe in dozens of other ways; I can donothing. Even Piers Berkeley has a commission in the army--that puppy!"
But Harry was never long in the dumps. He was only a boy, and themisfortunes that had befallen him so suddenly were sufficient excuse forhis passing fits of moodiness; but his was naturally a sanguine temper,and by the time he reached the inn his brow had cleared and he was ableto eat his dinner with good appetite.
"The last but one, Sherry," he said with a smile. "After to-morrow thepurse will be all but dry, and then I shall have to earn my bread. Whatdo you say? Will you teach me to stand on my head, to begin with?"
"Zooks, sir, dont'ee put it so terrible low. Look'ee, now, I ha' somescore o' guineas behind my belt; ye're welcome to the loan on 'em tillyour ship do come home."
"You're a good fellow, Sherry, but I couldn't think of it. Do you wantto make me still more ashamed of myself?"
"Well then, sir, why not go to my lord Marlborough's noble house andwalk up and down outside till the duke comes out, and stand full in hispath and catch his eye--or mebbe his missis'; her med be taken wi' 'eeand command her good man to remember 'ee, for by all accounts she----"
"Hold your tongue, sirrah!" cried Harry with a touch of anger. "Hangabout a great man's door, like Lazarus waiting for the offal! Noindeed. Nay. To-morrow we shall be adrift; pray God a fair breeze willcarry us into port. Sherry, you had better go and tell the landlord weshall leave him to-morrow. Ask for the reckoning; we will pay the scoreand begin the morning at least free men."
In half an hour Sherebiah returned with the bill. Harry pulled a longface as he glanced at it. He untied the purse-strings and laid hismoney out on the table.
"'Tis worse than I thought," he said ruefully. "In some unconscionablefashion the bill mounts higher this week; I am ten shillings shortwithout vails to the servants."
"Ah, I know Lun'on folk, I do. But don't let that trouble 'ee, sir; tenshillens won't make a great hole in my store."
"But I won't have your money. Nay, Sherry, call it a whim of mine; 'tisour last day; the charges are mine; to-morrow we must start afresh. Ihave some trinkets in my box; their worth I know not; but you can takeone or two to a goldsmith's and place them with him until the luckturns. You will do that better than I."
He left the room and came back with a miniature set in gold and a broochof antique make. Sherebiah looked at them with a deliberative air.
"Baubles like these sell for next to nowt," he said. "'Tis not all goldthat glitters. But I'll take 'em, sir, and cheapen 'em as best I may.Be I to pledge 'em in my name or yours?"
"It doesn't matter--whichever you like. I'll sit by the fire and readwhile you are gone."
"Ay, 'tis a raw and nippen afternoon, and there be true comfort in a logfire."
He flung his cloak over his shoulders and was gone. Harry went to hisroom and brought down a volume of his father's containing Mr. JohnMilton's poem of "Samson Agonistes". In the dark afternoon he read forsome time by the light of the fire, finding a certain melancholypleasure in fitting Samson's woeful laments to his own case.
"So much I feel my genial spirits droop, My hopes all flat",
he murmured, and then closed the book over his finger and gazed into theruddy cavern of the fire till his eyes ached. Sherebiah seemed a longtime gone; a feeling of restlessness stole upon Harry. He let the bookfall from his hand, rose, and paced about the room, stopping once ortwice at the narrow window to look out into the street. The air wasmisty, the pavement sticky with mud; every passing horse stepped under ablanket of vapour; the wayfarers were muffled about their necks andwalked as though bent under a load. Harry fidgeted, wondering whySherebiah was so long. His reading had not cheered him; his musing didbut increase his gloom. At last, unable to endure inaction longer, heput on his cloak and hat, took up the cudgel without which, in deferenceto Sherebiah's advice, he seldom went abroad, and sallied forth into thestreet, to walk off his fit of the dumps, if that might be.
By the flickering light above the door he saw three sailors lurching upthe street. He passed them, giving them but a casual glance, turnedinto the Strand, and spent some time looking listlessly into the lightedshops. At the door of a coffee-house he noticed a group gathered about anewspaper pasted on the wall. A manuscript supplement had just beenaffixed to it. When he could get near enough to see the writing, hefelt a momentary interest in the announcement he read.
"The Duke of Marlborough has rid post to Cambridge, call'd thither bythe desperate state of the Marquis of Blandford. It is now 'stablish'dbeyond doubt that the young Lord is suffering from the Small-Pox."
Even the great duke had his troubles. Lord Blandford was, as Harryknew, Marlborough's only son; he w
as the Lord Churchill who had writtento Godolphin with boyish curiosity to know what his title would be whenhis father became a duke. Harry passed on, more than ever convincedthat the great man, beset by cares public and domestic, could have notime to think of the small concerns of a country parson's son.
He turned into the Savoy and came by and by to the Temple Gardens,forlorn and desolate in the chill February evening. Not far behind himthree sailors were sauntering in the same direction, on their wayperhaps to rejoin their vessel in the Thames. The damp cold air struckHarry to the bone; he shivered and drew his cloak closer around him, andwas on the point of turning to retrace his steps when there suddenlystood before him a woman, thin-clad, bare-headed, with a whining childin her arms.
"Spare a penny, kind sir, to buy bread. My lips have not touched foodthe livelong day, and my little boy is fair starved. Oh, sir, have pityon a poor lone woman; spare a penny, kind sir."
Harry stopped and looked at the thin haggard cheeks, the dark-rimmedeyes, the hair hanging in loose damp wisps over the brow. The child'sfeeble moans stabbed him like a knife; its poor pinched wizened face wasa speaking tale of woe. Loosening his cloak, the woman all the whilecontinuing her monotonous complaint, he untied his purse. It containeda guinea and one crown piece. At that moment the three sailors passedhim, talking loudly, and laughing coarsely as they jostled the woman intheir path.
"The poor creature's need is greater than mine," he thought. "Sherrywill bring back some money. Here you are," he said, handing her theguinea. "And for God's sake take your little one out of the damp andcold! Good-night!"
Harry moved on, impressed by the spectacle of a misery deeper than hisown, and pursued by the voluble thanks of the poor woman. He hadforgotten his purpose to turn back; and was only recalled to it by thesight of the three sailors rolling on ahead. They were walking arm inarm, and from their gait Harry concluded that the middle one of thethree was intoxicated, and needed the support of his comrades. One ofthem glanced back over his shoulder just as Harry was turning. The nextmoment there was a heavy thud; the drunken sailor was on the ground, theothers bending over him. A hoarse cry for help caused Harry to hastento the group.
"What is amiss?" he asked.
"Be you a surgeon, mate?" replied the man, a thickset and powerful salt."Bill be taken wi' a fit, sure enough. A's foaming at the mouth."
"No, I'm not a surgeon. I thought he was drunk."
"Not him. Belay there; let the gentleman see."
Harry went to the man's head and leant over, peering into his face.Instantly the fallen sailor flung his arms round Harry's legs and pulledthem violently towards him. Unable to recover himself Harry fellbackward, and before he could cry out a cloak was flung over his headand a brawny hand had him by the throat. Through the folds of cloth heheard the men with many oaths congratulate themselves on the ease withwhich they had accomplished their job. For a few moments he struggledviolently, until he felt that resistance was hopeless. Then the cloakwas tied about his neck, and he felt himself carried by two of thethree, one having him by the head, the other by the heels. They walkedswiftly along, and, not troubling to keep step, jolted him unpleasantly.There was a singing in his ears; he gasped for breath; and soon hisphysical discomfort and his fears were alike annihilated. He had lostconsciousness.
The Adventures of Harry Rochester: A Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene Page 9