His mother's love had taken a cross turn, because he had kept the
tempting supper she had prepared for him waiting until it was nearly
spoilt. Alice, her dulled senses deadening day by day, sat mutely
near the fire: her happiness bounded by the consciousness of the
presence of her foster-child, knowing that his voice repeated what
was passing to her deafened ear, that his arm removed each little
obstacle to her tottering steps. And Will, out of the very kindness
of his heart, talked more and more merrily than ever. He saw Jem
was downcast, and fancied his rattling might cheer him; at any rate,
it drowned his aunt's muttered grumblings, and in some measure
concealed the blank of the evening. At last, bed-time came; and
Will withdrew to his neighbouring lodging; and Jane and Alice Wilson
had raked the fire, and fastened doors and shutters, and pattered
upstairs, with their tottering footsteps and shrill voices. Jem,
too, went to the closet termed his bedroom. There was no bolt to
the door; but by one strong effort of his right arm a heavy chest
was moved against it, and he could sit down on the side of his bed,
and think.
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