My declaring myself beaten, after this parley, was not an announcement without preparation.Indeed, but for the way to the announcement being smoothed by the parley, I more than doubt whether, as an innately bashful man, I should have had the confidence to make it.As it was, it received the approval even of the guard and coachman.Therefore, with many confirmations of my inclining, and many remarks from one bystander to another, that the gentleman could go for'ard by the mail to-morrow, whereas to-night he would only be froze, and where was the good of a gentleman being froze--ah, let alone buried alive (which latter clause was added by a humorous helper as a joke at my expense, and was extremely well received), I saw my portmanteau got out stiff, like afrozen body; did the handsome thing by the guard and coachman; wished them good- night and a prosperous journey; and, a little ashamed of myself, after all, for leaving them to fight it out alone, followed the landlord, landlady, and waiter of the Holly-Tree up-stairs.
I thought I had never seen such a large room as that into which they showed me.It had five windows, with dark red curtains that would have absorbed the light of a general illumination; and there were complications of drapery at the top of the curtains, that went wandering about the wall in a most extraordinary manner.I asked for a smaller room, and they told me there was no smaller room.
They could screen me in, however, the landlord said.They brought a great old japanned screen, with natives (Japanese, I suppose) engaged in a variety of idiotic pursuits all over it; and left me roasting whole before an immense fire.
My bedroom was some quarter of a mile off, up a great staircase at the end of a long gallery; and nobody knows what a misery this is to a bashful man who would rather not meet people on the stairs.It was the grimmest room I have ever had the nightmare in; and all the furniture, from the four posts of the bed to the two old silver candle-sticks, was tall, high- shouldered, and spindle-waisted.Below, in my sitting-room, if I looked round my screen, the wind rushed at me like a mad bull; if I stuck to my arm-chair, the fire scorched me to the colour of a new brick.The chimney-piece was very high, and there was a bad glass--what I may call a wavy glass-- above it, which, when I stood up, just showed me my anterior phrenological developments,--and these never look well, in any subject, cut short off at the eyebrow.If I stood with my back to the fire, a gloomy vault of darkness above and beyond the screen insisted on being looked at; and, in its dim remoteness, the drapery of the ten curtains of the five windows went twisting and creeping about, like a nest of gigantic worms.
I suppose that what I observe in myself must be observed by some other men of similar character in themselves; therefore I am emboldened to mention, that, when I travel, I never arrive at a place but I immediately want to go away from it.Before I had finished my supper of broiled fowland mulled port, I had impressed upon the waiter in detail my arrangements for departure in the morning.Breakfast and bill at eight.Fly at nine.Two horses, or, if needful, even four.
Tired though I was, the night appeared about a week long.In cases of nightmare, I thought of Angela, and felt more depressed than ever by the reflection that I was on the shortest road to Gretna Green.What had I to do with Gretna Green? I was not going that way to the Devil, but by the American route, I remarked in my bitterness.
In the morning I found that it was snowing still, that it had snowed all night, and that I was snowed up.Nothing could get out of that spot on the moor, or could come at it, until the road had been cut out by labourers from the market-town.When they might cut their way to the Holly-Tree nobody could tell me.
It was now Christmas-eve.I should have had a dismal Christmas- time of it anywhere, and consequently that did not so much matter; still, being snowed up was like dying of frost, a thing I had not bargained for.I felt very lonely.Yet I could no more have proposed to the landlord and landlady to admit me to their society (though I should have liked it--very much) than I could have asked them to present me with a piece of plate.Here my great secret, the real bashfulness of my character, is to be observed.Like most bashful men, I judge of other people as if they were bashful too.Besides being far too shamefaced to make the proposal myself, I really had a delicate misgiving that it would be in the last degree disconcerting to them.
Trying to settle down, therefore, in my solitude, I first of all asked what books there were in the house.The waiter brought me a Book of Roads, two or three old Newspapers, a little Song-Book, terminating in a collection of Toasts and Sentiments, a little Jest- Book, an odd volume of Peregrine Pickle, and the Sentimental Journey.I knew every word of the two last already, but I read them through again, then tried to hum all the songs (Auld Lang Syne was among them); went entirely through the jokes,--in which I found a fund of melancholy adapted to my state of mind; proposed all the toasts, enunciated all the sentiments, and mastered thepapers.The latter had nothing in them but stock advertisements, a meeting about a county rate, and a highway robbery.As I am a greedy reader, I could not make this supply hold out until night; it was exhausted by tea-time.Being then entirely cast upon my own resources, I got through an hour in considering what to do next.Ultimately, it came into my head (from which I was anxious by any means to exclude Angela and Edwin), that I would endeavour to recall my experience of Inns, and would try how long it lasted me.I stirred the fire, moved my chair a little to one side of the screen,--not daring to go far, for I knew the wind was waiting to make a rush at me, I could hear it growling,--and began.
