THELASTOFTHESPIRITS
Thephantomslowly,gravely,silentlyapproached.Whenitcamenearhim,Scroogebentdownuponhisknee;forintheveryairthroughwhichthisspiritmoveditseemedtoscattergloomandmystery.
Itwasshroudedinadeep-blackgarment,whichconcealeditshead,itsface,itsform,andleftnothingofitvisiblesaveoneoutstretchedhand.Butforthisitwouldhavebeendifficulttodetachitsfigurefromthenight,andseparateitfromthedarknessbywhichitwassurrounded.
Hefeltthatitwastallandstatelywhenitcamebesidehim,andthatitsmysteriouspresencefilledhimwithasolemndread.Heknewnomore,forthespiritneitherspokenormoved.
“IaminthepresenceoftheGhostofChristmasYettoCome?”saidScrooge.
Thespiritanswerednot,butpointedonwardwithhishand.
“Youareabouttoshowmeshadowsofthethingsthathavenothappened,butwillhappeninthetimebeforeus,”Scroogepursued.“Isthatso,spirit?”
Theupperportionofthegarmentwascontractedforaninstantinitsfolds,asifthespirithadinclineditshead.Thatwastheonlyanswerhereceived.
Althoughwellusedtoghostlycompanybythistime,Scroogefearedthesilentshapesomuchthathislegstrembledbeneathhim,andhefoundthathecouldhardlystandwhenhepreparedtofollowit.Thespiritpausedamoment,asobservinghiscondition,andgivinghimtimetorecover.
ButScroogewasalltheworseforthis.Itthrilledhimwithavagueuncertainhorror,toknowthatbehindtheduskyshroudtherewereghostlyeyesintentlyfixeduponhim,whilehe,thoughhestretchedhisowntotheutmost,couldseenothingbutaspectralhandandonegreatheapofblack.
“Ghostofthefuture!”heexclaimed,“IfearyoumorethananyspectreIhaveseen.ButasIknowyourpurposeistodomegood,andasIhopetolivetobeanothermanfromwhatIwas,Iampreparedtobearyoucompany,anddoitwithathankfulheart.Willyounotspeaktome?”
Itgavehimnoreply.Thehandwaspointedstraightbeforethe
“Leadon!”saidScrooge.“LeadonIThenightiswaningfast,anditisprecioustimetome,Iknow.Leadon,spirit!”
ThephantommovedawayasithadcometowardshiScroogefollowedintheshadowofitsdress,whichborehimup,hethought,andcarriedhimalong.
Theyscarcelyseemedtoenterthecity;forthecityratherseemedtospringupaboutthem,andencompassthemofitsownact.Buttheretheywere,intheheartofit;on’Change,amongstthemerchants;whohurriedupanddown,andchinkedthemoneyintheirpockets,andconversedingroups,andlookedattheirwatches,andtrifledthoughtfullywiththeirgreatgoldseals;andsoforth,asScroogehadseenthemoften.
Thespiritstoppedbesideonelittleknotofbusinessmen.Observingthatthehandwaspointedtothem,Scroogeadvancedtolistentotheirtalk.
“No,”saidagreatfatmanwithamonstrouschin,“Idon’tknowmuchaboutiteitherway.Ionlyknowhe’sdead.”
“Whendidhedie?”inquiredanother.
“Lastnight,Ibelieve.”
“Why,whatwasthematterwithhim?”askedathird,takingavastquantityofsnuffoutofaverylargesnuff-box.“Ithoughthe’dneverdie.”
“Godknows,”saidthefirst,withayawn.
“Whathashedonewithhismoney?”askedared-facedgentlemanwithapendulousexcrescenceontheendofhisnose,thatshooklikethegillsofaturkey-cock.
“Ihaven’theard,”saidthemanwiththelargechin,yawningagain.“Leftittohiscompany,perhaps.Hehasn’tleftittome.That’sallIknow.”
Thispleasantrywasreceivedwithagenerallaugh.
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