Crossing the
broad pavement of the busy thoroughfare, they went into a narrow street
beyond, and so toward the East River. At length they stopped before a
low, modest house near a quiet corner. A sloppy kitchen-maid stood upon
the area steps abreast of the street. A few miserable trees, pining to
death in the stone desert of the town, were boxed up along the edge of
the sidewalk. A scavenger's cart was joggling along, and a little behind,
a ragman's wagon with a string of jangling bells. The smell of the sewer
was the chief odor, and the long lines of low, red brick houses, with
wooden steps and balustrades, and the blinds closed, completed a
permanent camp of dreariness.
"Does Fanny Newt live there?" asked Gabriel, in a tone which indicated
that there might be hearts in which honey was not abundantly hived.
"Yes," said May, gravely. "You know they have very little to live upon,
and--and--oh dear, I don't like to speak of it, Gabriel, but they are
very miserable."
Gabriel said nothing, but rang the bell.
The sloppy servant having stared wildly for a moment at the apparition
of blooming love that had so incomprehensibly alighted upon the steps,
ducked under them, and in a moment reappeared at the door. She seemed
to recognize May, and said "Yes'm" before any question had been asked.
Gabriel and May walked into the little parlor. It was dark and formal.
Pages:
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399