It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to
understanding; I had forgotten the particulars of what had happened and
only felt as if some great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me; but
when I looked around and saw the barred windows and the squalidness of
the room in which I was, all flashed across my memory and I groaned
bitterly.
This sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair beside
me. She was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the turnkeys, and her
countenance expressed all those bad qualities which often characterize
that class. The lines of her face were hard and rude, like that of
persons accustomed to see without sympathizing in sights of misery. Her
tone expressed her entire indifference; she addressed me in English,
and the voice struck me as one that I had heard during my sufferings.
"Are you better now, sir?" said she.
I replied in the same language, with a feeble voice, "I believe I am;
but if it be all true, if indeed I did not dream, I am sorry that I am
still alive to feel this misery and horror."
"For that matter," replied the old woman, "if you mean about the
gentleman you murdered, I believe that it were better for you if you
were dead, for I fancy it will go hard with you! However, that's none
of my business; I am sent to nurse you and get you well; I do my duty
with a safe conscience; it were well if everybody did the same."
I turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling a
speech to a person just saved, on the very edge of death; but I felt
languid and unable to reflect on all that had passed.
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