THE MONEY

They found her cold upon the bed.

The cause of death, the doctor said,

Was nothing save the lack of bread.

Her clothes were but a sorry rag

That barely hid the nakedness

Of her poor body's piteous wreck:

Yet, when they stripped her of her dress,

They found she was not penniless;

For, in a little silken bag,

Tied with red ribbon round her neck,

Was four-pound-seventeen-and-five.

“It seems a strange and shameful thing

That she should starve herself to death,

While she'd the means to keep alive.

Why, such a sum would keep the breath

Within her body till she'd found

A livelihood; and it would bring...

But, there is very little doubt

She'd set her heart upon a grand

And foolish funeral — for the pride

Of poor folk, who can understand!—

And so, because she was too proud

To meet death penniless, she died.”

And talking, talking, they trooped out:

And, as they went, I turned about

To look upon her in her shroud;

And saw again the quiet face

That filled with light that shameful place,

Touched with the tender, youthful grace

Death brings the broken and outworn

To comfort kind hearts left to mourn.

And as I stood, the sum they'd found

Rang with a queer, familiar ring

Of some uncouth, uncanny sound

Heard in dark ages underground;

And “four-pound-seventeen-and-five”

Through all my body seemed to sing,

Without recalling anything

To help me, strive as I might strive.

But, as I stumbled down the stairs

Into the alley's gloom and stench —

A whiff of burning oil

That took me unawares —

And I knew all there was to tell.

And, though the rain in torrents fell,

I walked on, heedless, through the drench

And, all the while, I seemed to sit

Upon a tub in Lansel pit;

And in the candle-light to see

John Askerton, a “deputy,”

Who paused awhile to talk with me,

His kind face glistening black with toil.

“‘ Twas here I found him dead, beside

His engine. All the other men

Were up — for things were slack just then —

And I'd one foot upon the cage;

When, all at once, I caught the smell

Of burning. Even as I turned

To see what it could be that burned,

The seam behind was choked with stife.

And so I dropped on hands and knees,

And crawled along the gallery,

Beneath the smoke, that I might see

What ailed: and as I crept, half-blind,

With smarting eyes, and breath awheeze,

I scarcely knew what I should find.

At times, I thought I'd never know...

And‘ twas already quite an age

Since I set out... I felt as though

I had been crawling all my life

Beneath the stifling cloud of smoke

That clung about me fit to choke:

And when, at last, I'd struggled here,

‘ Twas long ere I could see things clear...

That he was lying here... and he

Was dead... and burning like a tree...

A tree-trunk soaked in oil... No doubt,

The engine had caught fire, somehow;

And when he tried to put it out,

His greasy clothes had caught... and now

As fine a lad as you could see...

And such a lad for singing... I

Had heard him when I worked hard by;

And often quiet I would sit

To hear him, singing in the pit,

As though his heart knew naught of it,

And life was nothing but a song.

“He'd not been working with us long:

And little of his ways I knew:

But, when I'd got him up, at last;

And he was lying in the shed,

The sweet song silent in his breast;

And there was nothing more to do:

The notion came into my head

That he had always been well-dressed;

And seemed a neat and thrifty lad...

And lived in lodgings... so, maybe,

Would carry on him all he had.

So, back into the cage I stepped:

And, when it reached the bottom, crept

Along the gallery again

And, in the dust where he had lain,

I rummaged, until I found all

That from his burning pockets fell.

And when it seemed there was no more,

I thought how, happy and alive,

And recking naught what might befall,

He, too, for all that I could tell,

Just where I stood, had reckoned o'er

That four-pound-seventeen-and-five.

“Aye, like enough... for soon we heard

That in a week he'd looked to wed.

He'd meant to give the girl that night

The money to buy furniture.

She came, and watched till morning-light

Beside the body in the shed:

Then rose: and took, without a word,

The money he had left for her.”

Then, as I wandered through the rain,

I seemed to stand in awe again

Beside that lonely garret-bed.

And it was good to think the dead

Had known the wealth she would not spend

To keep a little while alive —

His four-pound-seventeen-and-five —

Would buy her houseroom in the end.