Christmas Carol 56 recto

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scjochem at Aug 13, 2021 05:42 PM

Christmas Carol 56 recto

56

??th (which was not until after a long silence) appeared embarrassed how to answer.

“Is it good,” she said, “or bad?”—to help him.

“Bad,” he answered.

Then wWe have are quite ruined.”

“No., he ????? ???d There is hope yet, Caroline.”

“If he relents,” she cried said, amazed. “There is! Nothing is past hope, if such a miracle
has happened.”

“He is past relenting,” said her husband. “He is dead.”

She was a mild and patient creature if her face spoke truth; but it
was plain that she felt was thankful in her heart soul to hear it, and she said so, with
clasped hands. She prayed forgiveness the next moment, and was sorry, but the first
was the emotion of her heart.

“What they told me the half- the drunken woman whom I told you of last night, said to me, when I ???t tried to see him
and obtain a week’s delay; and what I thought was a mere excuse to avoid
seeing me; turns out to have been quite true. He was ???? not only very ill,
but dying, then.”

“To whom will our debt be transferred?”

“I don’t know. But before that time we shall be ready with the
money; and even though we were not, we should might hope it would be bad fortune indeed to find a more so
merciful merciless a creditor in his successor. We may sleep tonight with light hearts,
Caroline!”

Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The children’s faces hushed, and clustered round to listen hear what they so little understood, were brighter; and and it was a
happier house for this man’s death! The only emotion, that that caused by the event that the Ghost could
shew him, caused by the event, was one sentimentone of pleasure

“Let me see some tenderness connected with a death,” said Scrooge;
“or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be always for ever present to me.”

They glided Ghost went conducted him, through the many several and streets familiar to his feet; and as they went along, Scrooge looked here and there to
find himself, but nowhere was he to be seen. He had ???gled cu?? They entered poor Bob Cratchet
Cratchit’s house—the dwelling he had vis¬ited before—and found the mother and
the children seated round the fire.

Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still
as statues in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who had
a Book before him. The mother and her daughters were engaged in sewing. But surely they
were very quiet!

“‘And He took a child, and set him in the midst of them.’” Where had
Scrooge heard those words? He had not dreamed them. The boy
must have read them out, as he and the Spirit crossed the thresh-hold. Why did he not go on!

The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand
up to her face.

“The colour hurts my eyes!” she said.

The colour? Ah Poor Tiny Tim!

“They’re better now again,” said Cratchit’s wife. “It makes them

Christmas Carol 56 recto

56

(which was not until after a long silence) appeared embarrassed how to answer.

“Is it good,” she said, “or bad?”—to help him.

“Bad,” he answered.

“We are quite ruined.”

“No. There is hope yet, Caroline.”

“If he relents,” she said, amazed, “there is! Nothing is past hope, if such a miracle has happened.”

“He is past relenting,” said her husband. “He is dead.”

She was a mild and patient creature if her face spoke truth; but
she was thank¬ful in her soul to hear it, and she said so, with
clasped hands. She prayed forgive¬ness the next moment, and was sorry, but the first
was the emotion of her heart.

“What the half-drunken woman whom I told you of last night, said to me, when I tried to see him
and obtain a week’s delay; and what I thought was a mere ex¬cuse to avoid
me; turns out to have been quite true. He was not only very ill,
but dying, then.”

“To whom will our debt be transferred?”

“I don’t know. But before that time we shall be ready with the
money; and even though we were not, it would be bad fortune indeed to find so
merciless a credi¬tor in his successor. We may sleep tonight with light hearts,
Caroline!”

Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The children’s faces hushed, and clustered round to hear what they had so little understood, were brighter; and it was a
happier house for this man’s death! The only emotion, that the Ghost could
show him, caused by the event, was one of pleasure.

“Let me see some tenderness connected with a death,” said Scrooge;
“or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever present to me.”

The Ghost conducted him, through several streets familiar to his feet; and as they went along, Scrooge looked here and there to
find himself, but nowhere was he to be seen. They entered poor Bob
Cratchit’s house—the dwelling he had vis¬ited before—and found the mother and
the children seated round the fire.

Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still
as statues in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who had
a Book before him. The mother and her daughters were engaged in sewing. But surely they
were very quiet!

“‘And He took a child, and set him in the midst of them.’” Where had
Scrooge heard those words? He had not dreamed them. The boy
must have read them out, as he and the Spirit crossed the thresh-hold. Why did he not go on!

The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand
up to her face.

“The colour hurts my eyes!” she said.

The colour? Ah Poor Tiny Tim!

“They’re better now again,” said Cratchit’s wife. “It makes them