was confirmed when I saw residents on this floor and below throw open their doors and flee. One pushed past me as I banged hard upon the Caulfield door, calling her name. I banged again, and at last it came open. The poor woman stood transfixed with terror, eyes wide, head turning this way and that.
“Moll Caulfield,” cried I at her, “you must come away. This place may collapse!”
I grabbed at her wrist and made to pull her through the door. Yet she resisted. At the same time, I was given a bump as two more tenants pushed past me for the stairs.
“But I cannot go without my cart!”
I saw it just behind her. Perhaps she was making to leave with it when I came knocking on her door.
“Go!” said I. “I shall take the cart.”
Only with that promise did she allow herself to be pulled over the threshold. I reached in and grabbed it and followed her down the balcony way, which seemed then to be shaking even more fearsomely than before. A window burst, scattering shards of glass before us, thus making the way even more treacherous than before.
And so we reached the stairs, where I was faced with a problem I could not have anticipated. I had been pulling the cart, which was light enough and moved well on its wooden wheels. Yet it seemed dangerous to try the stairs in this way; I feared I might lose control of the thing. At the top of the stairs, she looked back at me, as if asking for instruction. I signaled her to proceed as I began to turn the cart about. She went on bravely enough, and I followed with her halfway down, pushing the cart before me. The stairs yawed left and right. I could but barely keep my own balance; managing the cart made it near impossible. Then, as I saw Moll Caulfield reach the ground, I was bumped from behind and pushed aside by a large woman near crazed by fear, who ran before me. I teetered dangerously. I hung on to what was left of the railing with one hand and to the cart with the other. Almost slowly then, whatever rotten and flimsy foundation it was that held the stairs gave way completely, and I saw the stairs before me begin to crumble forward. I lost my footing as the step disappeared from beneath my foot, lost my hold upon the cart, and as if in a dream sailed out and down ten feet or more to the courtyard below.
Had it been paved, I might not have landed so well. Had I been the age I am now, I might have broken a bone or two. Yet as it was, I came through the fall right enough, yet Moll Caulfield’s cart did not fare so well. While I went out and away from the stairs, the cart went under. Planks, rails, deals, and boards fell on top of it. And as I recovered myself, picking myself up from where I had fallen, I saw poor Moll frantically throwing off debris from the fallen staircase that she might recover her means of livelihood. I went to her, thinking to help, then happened to look up and saw that the balcony above her was swaying in the same dangerous way that the stairs had. I reached for her.
“Moll! Come away!”
But she shook me off. “I cannot! My cart!”
And with that, she uncovered it, and we both saw that it had been quite destroyed by the burden of wood that had landed atop it. She rose to her full stature, which was somewhat less than mine, and cast me the most baleful look e’er I had seen on a human face before.
Then I took her by the hand firmly and pulled her away, and not a moment too soon, for a moment later a great piece ot the balcony came tumbling down where she had stood. But that was just the beginning. Large parts of the roof followed—a whole chimney, a gable. It looked to me as if the whole structure was in danger of collapse.
“We must away from here!” I shouted at her.
She, having lost her cart, was quite submissive. I led her toward the gateway as fast as she would go, as section after section of the old building began to tumble down. As I looked back last, having pushed her through the old gate hole where she joined others, I saw a
“Moll Caulfield,” cried I at her, “you must come away. This place may collapse!”
I grabbed at her wrist and made to pull her through the door. Yet she resisted. At the same time, I was given a bump as two more tenants pushed past me for the stairs.
“But I cannot go without my cart!”
I saw it just behind her. Perhaps she was making to leave with it when I came knocking on her door.
“Go!” said I. “I shall take the cart.”
Only with that promise did she allow herself to be pulled over the threshold. I reached in and grabbed it and followed her down the balcony way, which seemed then to be shaking even more fearsomely than before. A window burst, scattering shards of glass before us, thus making the way even more treacherous than before.
And so we reached the stairs, where I was faced with a problem I could not have anticipated. I had been pulling the cart, which was light enough and moved well on its wooden wheels. Yet it seemed dangerous to try the stairs in this way; I feared I might lose control of the thing. At the top of the stairs, she looked back at me, as if asking for instruction. I signaled her to proceed as I began to turn the cart about. She went on bravely enough, and I followed with her halfway down, pushing the cart before me. The stairs yawed left and right. I could but barely keep my own balance; managing the cart made it near impossible. Then, as I saw Moll Caulfield reach the ground, I was bumped from behind and pushed aside by a large woman near crazed by fear, who ran before me. I teetered dangerously. I hung on to what was left of the railing with one hand and to the cart with the other. Almost slowly then, whatever rotten and flimsy foundation it was that held the stairs gave way completely, and I saw the stairs before me begin to crumble forward. I lost my footing as the step disappeared from beneath my foot, lost my hold upon the cart, and as if in a dream sailed out and down ten feet or more to the courtyard below.
Had it been paved, I might not have landed so well. Had I been the age I am now, I might have broken a bone or two. Yet as it was, I came through the fall right enough, yet Moll Caulfield’s cart did not fare so well. While I went out and away from the stairs, the cart went under. Planks, rails, deals, and boards fell on top of it. And as I recovered myself, picking myself up from where I had fallen, I saw poor Moll frantically throwing off debris from the fallen staircase that she might recover her means of livelihood. I went to her, thinking to help, then happened to look up and saw that the balcony above her was swaying in the same dangerous way that the stairs had. I reached for her.
“Moll! Come away!”
But she shook me off. “I cannot! My cart!”
And with that, she uncovered it, and we both saw that it had been quite destroyed by the burden of wood that had landed atop it. She rose to her full stature, which was somewhat less than mine, and cast me the most baleful look e’er I had seen on a human face before.
Then I took her by the hand firmly and pulled her away, and not a moment too soon, for a moment later a great piece ot the balcony came tumbling down where she had stood. But that was just the beginning. Large parts of the roof followed—a whole chimney, a gable. It looked to me as if the whole structure was in danger of collapse.
“We must away from here!” I shouted at her.
She, having lost her cart, was quite submissive. I led her toward the gateway as fast as she would go, as section after section of the old building began to tumble down. As I looked back last, having pushed her through the old gate hole where she joined others, I saw a
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