"
"I never knew any one seem more happy all her life long."
"Ay! and how gentle and easy her death was! She thought her mother
was near her."
They fell into calm thought above those last peaceful, happy hours.
It struck eleven.
Jem started up.
"I should have been gone long ago. Give me the bundle. You'll not
forget my mother. Good-night, Margaret."
She let him out and bolted the door behind him. He stood on the
steps to adjust some fastening about the bundle. The court, the
street, was deeply still. Long ago all had retired to rest on that
quiet Sabbath evening. The stars shone down on the silent deserted
streets, and the clear soft moonlight fell in bright masses, leaving
the steps on which Jem stood in shadow.
A footfall was heard along the pavement; slow and heavy was the
sound. Before Jem had ended his little piece of business, a form
had glided into sight; a wan, feeble figure, bearing with evident
and painful labour a jug of water from a neighbouring pump. It went
before Jem, turned up the court at the corner of which he was
standing, passed into the broad, calm light; and there, with bowed
head, sinking and shrunk body, Jem recognised John Barton.
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