The windows
broken, the rusty sashes rattling in their frames, the deserted
house a dull barrier dividing the glaring lights and bustle of the
street into two long lines, and standing in the midst, cold, dark,
and empty--presented a cheerless spectacle which mingled harshly
with the bright prospects the boy had been building up for its late
inmates, and came like a disappointment or misfortune. Kit would
have had a good fire roaring up the empty chimneys, lights
sparkling and shining through the windows, people moving briskly to
and fro, voices in cheerful conversation, something in unison with
the new hopes that were astir. He had not expected that the house
would wear any different aspect--had known indeed that it could
not--but coming upon it in the midst of eager thoughts and
expectations, it checked the current in its flow, and darkened it
with a mournful shadow.
Kit, however, fortunately for himself, was not learned enough or
contemplative enough to be troubled with presages of evil afar off,
and, having no mental spectacles to assist his vision in this
respect, saw nothing but the dull house, which jarred uncomfortably
upon his previous thoughts.
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