“Can’t come in. Nobody allowed past this rope.”
A posse of policemen had drawn a cord across the road, outside the old gate, because that was a very poor obstacle; and now I dare say there were a hundred people pushing; and in five minutes there would be a thousand.
I said, “I am Professor Fairthorn’s son-in-law, and the two young ladies have sent for me. And Mrs. Wilcox is an old servant of the family, who was sent in haste to fetch me.”
They dropped the rope at this, and let us in; being reasonable, as the police are generally, unless you rub their coats up the wrong way of the cloth.
But what a sight we had, when once we turned the corner! Having never been brought up in battle-fields, but only where apples and pears grow, I found myself all abroad, and felt my legs desirous to go away from one another. But my uncle laid hold of me, and said—“This is what it comes to. The man, who has been a man, may look on at the Devil.”
Mrs. Wilcox turned back; for her nerves were rheumatic; but they would not let her pass the rope again. I was looking round, and saw it, with a desire to do the same; but my uncle had me by the collar, and I knew that he was right, though I would rather not have known it.
“Stop, and see the works of God,” he said. And I answered—“No, I would rather not, if this is a sample of them.”
For before the front door there were things going on, which made it impossible to let that house after it came into our possession, even to a most enlightened widow from America—or at any rate she took it, and then threw it up again. There were as good as three corpses laid out upon the lawn, with a doctor attending upon each and two policemen; and one of them also had a magistrate.
Uncle Corny drew me forward, as I shrank behind the bay-tree, where Kitty had been with me, when the great snow began. “You are only fit for a turtle-dove. Where is your gall?” he whispered.