DEATH IN A LONDON LODGING
’Yes, Sir, she’s gone at last—’twas
only five minutes ago
We heard her sigh from her corner,—she
sat in the kitchen, you know:
We were all just busy on breakfast, John cleaning
the boots, and I
Had just gone into the larder—but you could
have heard that sigh
Right up in the garret, sir, for it seemed to pass
one by
Like a puff of wind—may be ’twas
her soul, who knows—
And we all looked up and ran to her—just
in time to see her head
Was sinking down on her bosom and “she’s
gone at last,” I said.’
So Mrs. Pownceby, meeting on the stairs
Her second-floor lodger, me, bound citywards,
Told of her sister’s death, doing her best
To match her face’s colour with the news:
While I in listening made a running gloss
Beneath her speech of all she left unsaid.
As—’in the kitchen,’
rather in the way,
Poor thing; ‘busy on breakfast,’
awkward time,
Indeed, for one must live and lodgers’ meals,
You know, must be attended to what comes—
(Or goes, I added for her) yes! indeed.
‘"She’s gone at last,” I said,’
and better perhaps,
For what had life for her but suffering?
And then, we’re only poor, sir, John and
I,
And she indeed was somewhat of a strain:
O! yes, it’s for the best for all of us.
And still beneath all else methought I read
’What will the lodgers think, having the
dead
Within the house! how inconvenient!’
What did the lodgers think? Well, I replied
In grief’s set phrase, but ‘the first
floor,’
I fancy, frowned at first, as though indeed
Landladies’ sisters had no right to die
And taint the air for nervous lodger folk;
Then smoothed his brow out into decency,
And said, ‘how sad!’ and presently inquired
The day of burial, ending with the hope
His lunch would not be late like yesterday.
The maiden-lady living near the roof
Quoted Isaiah may be, or perhaps Job—
How the Lord gives, and likewise takes away,
And how exceeding blessed is the Lord!—
For she has pious features; while downstairs
Two ’medicals’—both ‘decent’
lads enough—
Hearkened the story out like gentlemen,
And said the right thing—almost looked
it too!
Though all the while within them laughed a sea
Of student mirth, which for full half an hour
They stifled well, but then could hold no more,
As soon their mad piano testified:
While in the kitchen dinner was toward
With hiss and bubble from the cooking stove,
And now a laugh from John ran up the stairs,
And a voice called aloud—of boiling pans.