Chapter XIII.
A Journey in the Snow.
I think a dismaller Thing can scarce be cited, than a lone dismal House on a dismal lone Moor, in dismal inclement Weather, without anything passing or like to pass on Horse or Foot, without even a Cart-Track or a Row of black Footprints to the Gate across the Snow. In-Doors, small Rooms, somewhat barely furnished, either bitterly cold, or hot and close to that Degree as almost to stifle one. Nobody coming in nor going out; not so much as a Tradesman's Knock with his Knuckles at the Back-door; no Newspapers, no News, no lively Voices, no Letters to be got from the Post, nor any Possibility of getting a Letter to the Post. Nothing but to depend on one's own Resources within the House; happy for the Housekeeper if no Bread, nor Meat, nor Tea, nor Salt, nor Sugar, nor Candles, nor Coals, nor Stores of any Sort be a-wanting!
I confess a Day or two of that Life made me heartily sick of it; and yet it continued for nearly a Week. I thought what a Goose I was to leave Home to come to People I knew so little of, and who knew so little of me. I resolved within myself it should be long indeed ere I set out again, "voggetting about," as the Wiltshire People call it. Change of Scene, indeed! with Nothing to look out at but that lonely Snow-covered Moor! Nobody to speak to but a silent Woman, with a couple of unfledged Daughters, as mute as Mice, poring over their Bobbin-Work, and a Schoolboy that was bidden to hold his Peace! Nothing to do but sew, sew, sew, all Day, and think my own melancholy Thoughts, and wish for a Letter from Home, and wonder when I should be able to get back! No Exercise but to go up to my own Room under Pretence of washing my Hands, and there gaze out vacantly on the Snow, or dip into a musty old Book or two! Why, there was a hundred Times more Variety and Amusement in our Shop, any Day, in the worst of Weathers!
As for Mrs. Bowerbank, she was not near so dull, though a good deal more worried; because, though she brewed and baked at Home, and kept her Store Closet pretty well supplied, there were certain little Things that fell short during our Siege and Beleaguerment, which she had no Means of supplying. Thus, Butter ran short; and we all know there's no Substitute for that! The Salt-box happened to be nearly empty, and Eggs were scarce. Luckily, there was no Lack of Bread, because Flour was plenty, and she always knew how to keep herself supplied with Yeast, by putting away the wooden Spoon, unwashed, with which she had stirred the Yeast at her last Baking. But Butcher's Meat was scarce, which was more felt because we could not have Eggs to our Bacon: however, with one Thing and another we got on pretty well. She called me the most contented of Guests; I told her, truly, I was sorry she should treat me as a Stranger, and was quite willing to fare with the Rest.
Indeed, the Tabling troubled me least. And when I considered how kind they all were to me, a Stranger, and how great must be the Sufferings of the Poor and Needy in such a Season, I felt I was quite wicked to be secretly complaining merely because of the Infestivity. I played at Tit-tat-to with Joe, and posed him with hard Riddles, and he in return put it to me—"If a Herring and a Half cost three Halfpence, how far is it to Tyburn Turnpike?" which I told him had puzzled me before he was born; and then I puzzled him by asking, if a Herring and a Half cost three Halfpence, how many could he buy for Sixpence; which took him a good While to make out. The Girls, seeing me condescend to their younger Brother, began to think me less formidable, and to make some bashful Efforts at my Entertainment; and I then offered to tell their Fortunes, and showed them some simple Hocus-pocussing, which presently set us all laughing; and I found that the surest Way of being entertained is to entertain. Besides, we got a little Exercise by this; for some of the Conjurations led to hiding, and seeking, and turning quickly round, and playing Forfeits. So that we got on pretty well after a Time; only, all the While I was thinking when will the Frost break up, and, shall I be able to get Home?
All this While, we were in Suspense about Gatty's Safety, and unable to get any Letter from her; nor did Mrs. Bowerbank, by a single Word or Hint, enable me to guess whether Gatty had told her of Anything particular that Mr. Heavitree had said to her or not. My only Reason for thinking she had, was her Mother's sometimes falling into a Reverie as she sate by the Fire, with a quiet Smile on her Face, as though she were a thinking of Somewhat mighty pleasant; and again, by her frequently praising Gatty to us all, for her Frankness and steady Pursuit of Duty.
At length, the Snow began to yield a little; and just as Mrs. Bowerbank was beginning to consider whether she might not send Nanny into the Town for Letters and other Things much wanted, a Farm-Labourer from Roaring House came trudging through the Snow, and said he had found a Letter lying at the Post-Office for Mrs. Bowerbank, and had thought she might be glad to have it. The Man got a Cup of warm Beer for his Pains; and Mrs. Bowerbank, seeing the Direction in Gatty's Hand, came into the Parlour to read the Letter by the Fire, and communicate the best Part of it to us.
Gatty said she was much surprised and very thankful to find that Mr. Heavitree was going to see her safe to the End of the first Stage. He had insisted on her going inside, and said he would settle about that with Mrs. Bowerbank afterwards; and the Weather was so dreadful that she had felt herself justified in being persuaded. They were the only inside Passengers, and, with all the Windows up, were not so very cold; but the Windows were so covered with Ice that it was impossible to see through them when Day broke. They knew the Horses were being led, and that they were going very slowly, but did not much mind it, and judged they must have travelled several Miles, when all at once they found the Coach give a great Lurch, and roll over on its Side. They were quite unable to help themselves, and very uncomfortable, and rather frightened: Mr. Heavitree did not like breaking the Window, for fear of the Shivers falling on Gatty, and of the Cold to which they should subsequently be exposed. At length, with very great Difficulty, he contrived to open one of the Windows; and the Guard helped him to scramble out, and lift out Gatty. To their great Surprise and Mortification they saw just opposite to them a Finger-post, with "Three Miles to Larkfield," on it. In Fact, they had only just reached the Heath, where the Road being marked by no Boundaries, was hidden under the Snow, and they had strayed off it and got into a pretty deep Ditch, wherein the Coach was so fast set as to be immoveable. There was a Turnpike about a hundred Yards off, and the Turnpike Man came running out to see if he could give any Assistance; so then all the Men, Passengers and all, set their Shoulders to the Coach to heave it up; but in forcing it up, one of the Fore-Wheels came off. Then the three Horses, which had already broken their Traces, were sent back to Larkfield with the Postilion, Guard, and Ostler that had been leading, and the Passengers had no Help for it but to wait till Post-Chaises were sent. The Turnpike-Man invited them into his Cottage, which they were very thankful to take Shelter in; there was only one outside Passenger, whose Face was purple, almost black, with Cold; and he staggered so that Gatty at first thought he had been drinking, but it was because he was benumbed and dizzy. The Turnpike-Man's Wife received them very kindly: she was ironing, and the Room was very small and steamy, but she made them welcome to stand round her Fire, and said she had put off her Washing as long as she possibly could, because there was only Snow-water for use, now the Pond was frozen. There was a Baby crying in its Cradle all the Time, which its Mother said was because of the Cold; but Gatty thought it might be because the Mother had not Time to attend to it; so she took it up, and cherished it at the Fire, and rubbed its little blue Hands and Feet till she quieted it. Meanwhile, Mr. Heavitree produced some famous hot Gingerbread Nuts, which Mrs. Clary had given him, and the outside Passenger pulled out a Case-bottle of Brandy, and the good Woman gave them hot Water, and supplied Tumblers and Cups, and they had a very seasonable Luncheon. The Turnpike-Man said he had not taken Tolls to the Amount of Tenpence during the last two Days. His Wife, touched by Gatty's fondling the Baby, said with a kind of Remorse, that she wished she could be sure all was well with a young Woman carrying an Infant, who had, with Tears in her Eyes, begged, the Day before, to chafe its poor little Limbs at the Fire for a few Minutes before she crossed the Moor. "There was Something wild and unsettled in her Look," said the good Woman, "that I did not like, and I asked her, 'Why cross the Moor at all?' she said, she must, for her only Chance of Shelter; I asked whence she came, but she would not say. So the only Thing was to make her as comfortable as I could while she remained—there was some good strong Pease Soup on the Fire, and I gave her a Basin of it, with a Slice of Bread. I never saw a poor Soul so grateful; she said it warmed her to the Heart. I also made her take off her wet Stockings, which were fine but very old, and put on an old Pair of thick Woollen ones I had given up wearing; and I buttoned a Pair of old Gaiters over all. So then she suckled the Babe and went her Ways, praying God to bless me; and I watched her straggling across the Moor, and now and then plunging into a Snow-Drift. My Heart ached for her, it did!—and I couldn't help thinking, in the Night, that when the Thaw came, we might find her poor Corpse under the Snow."