Her own little room too, where she had so often knelt down and prayed at night--prayed for the time which she hoped was dawning now--the little room where she had slept so peacefully, and dreamed such pleasant dreams! It was hard not to be able to glance round it once more, and to be forced to leave it without one kind look or grateful tear.There were some trifles there--poor useless things--that she would have liked to take away; but that was impossible.
This brought to mind her bird, her poor bird, who hung there yet.
She wept bitterly for the loss of this little creature--until the idea occurred to her--she did not know how, or why, it came into her head--that it might, by some means, fall into the hands of Kit who would keep it for her sake, and think, perhaps, that she had left it behind in the hope that he might have it, and as an assurance that she was grateful to him.She was calmed and comforted by the thought, and went to rest with a lighter heart.
From many dreams of rambling through light and sunny places, but with some vague object unattained which ran indistinctly through them all, she awoke to find that it was yet night, and that the stars were shining brightly in the sky.At length, the day began to glimmer, and the stars to grow pale and dim.As soon as she was sure of this, she arose, and dressed herself for the journey.
The old man was yet asleep, and as she was unwilling to disturb him, she left him to slumber on, until the sun rose.He was anxious that they should leave the house without a minute's loss of time, and was soon ready.
The child then took him by the hand, and they trod lightly and cautiously down the stairs, trembling whenever a board creaked, and often stopping to listen.The old man had forgotten a kind of wallet which contained the light burden he had to carry; and the going back a few steps to fetch it seemed an interminable delay.
At last they reached the passage on the ground floor, where the snoring of Mr Quilp and his legal friend sounded more terrible in their ears than the roars of lions.The bolts of the door were rusty, and difficult to unfasten without noise.When they were all drawn back, it was found to be locked, and worst of all, the key was gone.Then the child remembered, for the first time, one of the nurses having told her that Quilp always locked both the house-doors at night, and kept the keys on the table in his bedroom.
It was not without great fear and trepidation that little Nell slipped off her shoes and gliding through the store-room of old curiosities, where Mr Brass--the ugliest piece of goods in all the stock--lay sleeping on a mattress, passed into her own little chamber.
Here she stood, for a few moments, quite transfixed with terror at the sight of Mr Quilp, who was hanging so far out of bed that he almost seemed to be standing on his head, and who, either from the uneasiness of this posture, or in one of his agreeable habits, was gasping and growling with his mouth wide open, and the whites (or rather the dirty yellows) of his eyes distinctly visible.It was no time, however, to ask whether anything ailed him; so, possessing herself of the key after one hasty glance about the room, and repassing the prostrate Mr Brass, she rejoined the old man in safety.They got the door open without noise, and passing into the street, stood still.
'Which way?' said the child.
The old man looked, irresolutely and helplessly, first at her, then to the right and left, then at her again, and shook his head.It was plain that she was thenceforth his guide and leader.The child felt it, but had no doubts or misgiving, and putting her hand in his, led him gently away.
It was the beginning of a day in June; the deep blue sky unsullied by a cloud, and teeming with brilliant light.The streets were, as yet, nearly free from passengers, the houses and shops were closed, and the healthy air of morning fell like breath from angels, on the sleeping town.
The old man and the child passed on through the glad silence, elate with hope and pleasure.They were alone together, once again; every object was bright and fresh; nothing reminded them, otherwise than by contrast, of the monotony and constraint they had left behind;church towers and steeples, frowning and dark at other times, now shone in the sun; each humble nook and corner rejoiced in light;and the sky, dimmed only by excessive distance, shed its placid smile on everything beneath.
Forth from the city, while it yet slumbered, went the two poor adventurers, wandering they knew not whither.