TheHauntedManandtheGhost'sBargin

ByCharlesDickens

TheHauntedManandtheGhost'sBargin

CHAPTERI-TheGiftBestowed

Everybodysaidso.

Farbeitfrommetoassertthatwhateverybodysaysmustbetrue.Everybody

is,often,aslikelytobewrongasright.Inthegeneralexperience,everybodyhas beenwrong so often, and it has taken, inmost instances, such awearywhile to find out how wrong, that the authority is proved to be fallible.Everybodymaysometimesberight;“butthat’snorule,”astheghostofGilesScrogginssaysintheballad.

Thedreadword,GHOST,recallsme.

Everybodysaidhelookedlikeahauntedman.Theextentofmypresentclaimforeverybodyis,thattheyweresofarright.Hedid.

Who could have seen his hollow cheek; his sunken brilliant eye; his black-attiredfigure,indefinablygrim,althoughwell-knitandwell-proportioned;hisgrizzled hair hanging, like tangled sea-weed, about his face, - as if he hadbeen,throughhiswholelife,alonelymarkforthechafingandbeatingofthegreatdeepofhumanity,-butmighthavesaidhelookedlikeahauntedman?

Whocouldhaveobservedhismanner,taciturn,thoughtful,gloomy,shadowedbyhabitualreserve,retiringalwaysandjocundnever,withadistraughtairofrevertingtoabygoneplaceandtime,oroflisteningtosomeoldechoesinhismind,butmighthavesaiditwasthemannerofahauntedman?

Who could have heard his voice, slow-speaking, deep, and grave, with anatural fulnessandmelody in itwhichheseemed tosethimselfagainstandstop,butmighthavesaiditwasthevoiceofahauntedman?

Whothathadseenhiminhisinnerchamber,partlibraryandpartlaboratory,-forhewas,astheworldknew,farandwide,alearnedmaninchemistry,andateacheronwhoselipsandhandsacrowdofaspiringearsandeyeshungdaily,-whothathadseenhimthere,uponawinternight,alone,surroundedbyhisdrugsandinstrumentsandbooks;theshadowofhisshadedlampamonstrousbeetleonthewall,motionlessamongacrowdofspectralshapesraisedtherebytheflickeringofthefireuponthequaintobjectsaroundhim;someofthesephantoms(thereflectionofglassvesselsthatheldliquids),tremblingatheartlike things that knew his power to uncombine them, and to give back theircomponentparts to fireandvapour; -who thathadseenhim then,hisworkdone, and he pondering in his chair before the rusted grate and red flame,movinghisthinmouthasifinspeech,butsilentasthedead,wouldnothavesaidthatthemanseemedhauntedandthechambertoo?

Whomightnot,byaveryeasyflightoffancy,havebelievedthateverythingabouthimtookthishauntedtone,andthathelivedonhauntedground?

Hisdwellingwassosolitaryandvault-like,-anold,retiredpartofanancientendowment for students, once abrave edifice, planted in anopenplace, butnow the obsolete whim of forgotten architects; smoke-age-and-weather-darkened, squeezed on every side by the overgrowing of the great city, andchoked,likeanoldwell,withstonesandbricks; itssmallquadrangles, lyingdown in very pits formed by the streets and buildings, which, in course oftime, had been constructed above its heavy chimney stalks; its old trees,insultedby theneighbouringsmoke,whichdeignedtodroopso lowwhenitwasveryfeebleandtheweatherverymoody; itsgrass-plots,strugglingwiththemildewedearthtobegrass,ortowinanyshowofcompromise;itssilentpavements,unaccustomedtothetreadoffeet,andeventotheobservationofeyes,exceptwhenastrayfacelookeddownfromtheupperworld,wonderingwhatnookitwas;itssun-dialinalittlebricked-upcorner,wherenosunhadstraggled for a hundred years, but where, in compensation for the sun’sneglect,thesnowwouldlieforweekswhenitlaynowhereelse,andtheblackeastwindwouldspinlikeahugehumming-top,wheninallotherplacesitwassilentandstill.

His dwelling, at its heart and core - within doors - at his fireside - was soloweringandold,socrazy,yetsostrong,withitsworn-eatenbeamsofwoodin the ceiling, and its sturdy floor shelving downward to the great oakchimney-piece;soenvironedandhemmedinbythepressureofthetownyetsoremoteinfashion,age,andcustom;soquiet,yetsothunderingwithechoeswhenadistantvoicewasraisedoradoorwasshut,-echoes,notconfinedtothemanylowpassagesandemptyrooms,butrumblingandgrumblingtilltheywerestifledintheheavyairoftheforgottenCryptwheretheNormanarcheswerehalf-buriedintheearth.

Youshouldhaveseenhim inhisdwellingabout twilight, in thedeadwintertime.

When thewindwasblowing, shrill andshrewd,with thegoingdownof theblurred sun. When it was just so dark, as that the forms of things wereindistinctandbig-butnotwhollylost.Whensittersbythefirebegantoseewildfacesandfigures,mountainsandabysses,ambuscadesandarmies,inthe

coals.When people in the streets bent down their heads and ran before theweather. When those who were obliged to meet it, were stopped at angrycorners,stungbywanderingsnow-flakesalightingonthelashesoftheireyes,-whichfelltoosparingly,andwereblownawaytooquickly,toleaveatraceuponthefrozenground.Whenwindowsofprivatehousescloseduptightandwarm.Whenlightedgasbegantoburstforthinthebusyandthequietstreets,fastblackeningotherwise.Whenstraypedestrians,shiveringalongthe latter,looked down at the glowing fires in kitchens, and sharpened their sharpappetitesbysniffingupthefragranceofwholemilesofdinners.

When travellers by land were bitter cold, and looked wearily on gloomylandscapes, rustling and shuddering in the blast. When mariners at sea,outlying upon icy yards, were tossed and swung above the howling oceandreadfully.When lighthouses, on rocks and headlands, showed solitary andwatchful;andbenightedsea-birdsbreastedonagainsttheirponderouslanterns,andfelldead.Whenlittlereadersofstory-books,bythefirelight,trembledtothinkofCassimBabacutintoquarters,hangingintheRobbers’Cave,orhadsomesmallmisgivings that thefierce littleoldwoman,with thecrutch,whousedtostartoutoftheboxinthemerchantAbudah’sbedroom,might,oneofthesenights,befounduponthestairs, in thelong,cold,duskyjourneyuptobed.

When, in rustic places, the last glimmering of daylight died away from theends of avenues; and the trees, arching overhead, were sullen and black.When, inparksandwoods, thehighwet fernandsoddenmoss,andbedsoffallenleaves,andtrunksoftrees,werelosttoview,inmassesofimpenetrableshade.Whenmists arose from dyke, and fen, and river.When lights in oldhallsand incottagewindows,wereacheerful sight.When themill stopped,the wheelwright and the blacksmith shut their workshops, the turnpike-gateclosed,theploughandharrowwereleftlonelyinthefields,thelabourerandteamwenthome,andthestrikingofthechurchclockhadadeepersoundthanatnoon,andthechurchyardwicketwouldbeswungnomorethatnight.

Whentwilighteverywherereleasedtheshadows,prisonedupallday,thatnowclosed in and gathered like mustering swarms of ghosts. When they stoodlowering, in corners of rooms, and frowned out from behind half-openeddoors.When theyhad full possessionofunoccupiedapartments.When theydanceduponthefloors,andwalls,andceilingsof inhabitedchambers,whilethefirewaslow,andwithdrewlikeebbingwaterswhenitsprangintoablaze.

Whentheyfantasticallymockedtheshapesofhouseholdobjects,makingthenurseanogress,therocking-horseamonster,thewonderingchild,half-scaredand half-amused, a stranger to itself, - the very tongs upon the hearth, astraddling giant with his arms a-kimbo, evidently smelling the blood ofEnglishmen,andwantingtogrindpeople’sbonestomakehisbread.

Whentheseshadowsbrought into themindsofolderpeople,other thoughts,andshowedthemdifferentimages.Whentheystolefromtheirretreats,inthelikenesses of forms and faces from the past, from the grave, from the deep,deepgulf,wherethethingsthatmighthavebeen,andneverwere,arealwayswandering.

Whenhe sat, as alreadymentioned, gazing at the fire.When, as it rose andfell, the shadowswent and came.When he took no heed of them,with hisbodilyeyes;but,letthemcomeorletthemgo,lookedfixedlyatthefire.Youshouldhaveseenhim,then.

When the sounds that had arisen with the shadows, and come out of theirlurking-placesatthetwilightsummons,seemedtomakeadeeperstillnessallabout him. When the wind was rumbling in the chimney, and sometimescrooning,sometimeshowling, in thehouse.Whentheold treesoutsideweresoshakenandbeaten,thatonequerulousoldrook,unabletosleep,protestednow and then, in a feeble, dozy, high-up “Caw!” When, at intervals, thewindow trembled, the rusty vane upon the turret-top complained, the clockbeneath it recorded that another quarter of an hour was gone, or the firecollapsedandfellinwitharattle.

-Whenaknockcameathisdoor, in short, ashewas sitting so, and rousedhim.

“Who’sthat?”saidhe.“Comein!”

Surely there had been no figure leaning on the back of his chair; no facelookingover it. It is certain thatnogliding footstep touched the floor, ashelifteduphishead,withastart,andspoke.Andyettherewasnomirrorintheroom on whose surface his own form could have cast its shadow for amoment;and,Somethinghadpasseddarklyandgone!

“I’mhumbly fearful, sir,” said a fresh-coloured busyman, holding the door

openwithhisfootfortheadmissionofhimselfandawoodentrayhecarried,andlettingitgoagainbyverygentleandcarefuldegrees,whenheandthetrayhadgot in, lest it should closenoisily, “that it’s agoodbit past the time to-night.ButMrs.Williamhasbeentakenoffherlegssooften”-

“Bythewind?Ay!Ihavehearditrising.”

“-Bythewind,sir-thatit’samercyshegothomeatall.Ohdear,yes.Yes.Itwasbythewind,Mr.Redlaw.Bythewind.”

He had, by this time, put down the tray for dinner, and was employed inlightingthelamp,andspreadingaclothonthetable.Fromthisemploymenthedesistedinahurry,tostirandfeedthefire,andthenresumedit;thelamphehad lighted, and theblaze that roseunderhishand, soquicklychanging theappearanceof theroom, that itseemedas if themerecominginofhis freshredfaceandactivemannerhadmadethepleasantalteration.

“Mrs.Williamisofcoursesubjectatanytime,sir,tobetakenoffherbalancebytheelements.Sheisnotformedsuperiortothat.”

“No,”returnedMr.Redlawgood-naturedly,thoughabruptly.

“No,sir.Mrs.WilliammaybetakenoffherbalancebyEarth;asforexample,lastSundayweek,whensloppyandgreasy,andshegoingouttoteawithhernewest sister-in-law, and having a pride in herself, and wishing to appearperfectly spotless though pedestrian. Mrs. William may be taken off herbalance byAir; as being once over-persuaded by a friend to try a swing atPeckham Fair, which acted on her constitution instantly like a steam-boat.Mrs.Williammay be taken off her balance by Fire; as on a false alarm ofengines at her mother’s, when she went two miles in her nightcap. Mrs.WilliammaybetakenoffherbalancebyWater;asatBattersea,whenrowedinto the piers by her young nephew, Charley Swidger junior, aged twelve,which had no idea of boatswhatever.But these are elements.Mrs.Williammustbe takenoutofelements for thestrengthofher character tocome intoplay.”

Ashestoppedforareply,thereplywas“Yes,”inthesametoneasbefore.

“Yes, sir. Oh dear, yes!” said Mr. Swidger, still proceeding with his

preparations,andcheckingthemoffashemadethem.“That’swhereitis,sir.That’swhatIalwayssaymyself,sir.SuchamanyofusSwidgers!-Pepper.Why there’s my father, sir, superannuated keeper and custodian of thisInstitution,eighty-sevenyearold.He’saSwidger!-Spoon.”

“True, William,” was the patient and abstracted answer, when he stoppedagain.

“Yes,sir,”saidMr.Swidger.“That’swhatIalwayssay,sir.Youmaycallhimthetrunkofthetree!-Bread.Thenyoucometohissuccessor,myunworthyself - Salt - andMrs.William, Swidgers both. - Knife and fork. Then youcome to allmybrothers and their families,Swidgers,man andwoman, boyandgirl.Why,whatwithcousins,uncles,aunts,andrelationshipsofthis,that,and t’other degree, and whatnot degree, and marriages, and lyings-in, theSwidgers - Tumbler - might take hold of hands, and make a ring roundEngland!”

Receivingnoreplyatallhere,fromthethoughtfulmanwhomheaddressed,Mr. William approached, him nearer, and made a feint of accidentallyknockingthetablewithadecanter,torousehim.Themomenthesucceeded,hewenton,asifingreatalacrityofacquiescence.

“Yes,sir!That’sjustwhatIsaymyself,sir.Mrs.Williamandmehaveoftensaid so. ‘There’s Swidgers enough,’ we say, ‘without our voluntarycontributions,’-Butter.Infact,sir,myfatherisafamilyinhimself-Castors-to take careof; and it happens all for thebest thatwehaveno childof ourown,thoughit’smadeMrs.Williamratherquiet-like,too.Quitereadyforthefowl andmashedpotatoes, sir?Mrs.William said she’ddish in tenminuteswhenIlefttheLodge.”

“I am quite ready,” said the other, waking as from a dream, and walkingslowlytoandfro.

“Mrs.Williamhasbeenatitagain,sir!”saidthekeeper,ashestoodwarmingaplateatthefire,andpleasantlyshadinghisfacewithit.Mr.Redlawstoppedinhiswalking,andanexpressionofinterestappearedinhim.

“WhatIalwayssaymyself,sir.Shewilldo it!There’samotherly feeling inMrs.William’sbreastthatmustandwillhavewent.”

“Whathasshedone?”

“Why,sir,notsatisfiedwithbeingasortofmothertoalltheyounggentlementhatcomeupfromavarietyofparts,toattendyourcoursesoflecturesatthisancient foundation - its surprising how stone-chaney catches the heat thisfrostyweather,tobesure!”Hereheturnedtheplate,andcooledhisfingers.

“Well?”saidMr.Redlaw.

“That’s justwhat I saymyself, sir,” returnedMr.William,speakingoverhisshoulder,as if in readyanddelightedassent.“That’sexactlywhere it is, sir!There ain’t one of our students but appears to regardMrs.William in thatlight.Everyday,rightthroughthecourse,theyputstheirheadsintotheLodge,oneafteranother,andhaveallgotsomethingtotellher,orsomethingtoaskher. ‘Swidge’ is the appellation by which they speak of Mrs. William ingeneral,amongthemselves,I’mtold;butthat’swhatIsay,sir.Betterbecalledeversofaroutofyourname,ifit’sdoneinrealliking,thanhaveitmadeeversomuchof,andnotcaredabout!What’sanamefor?Toknowapersonby.IfMrs.Williamisknownbysomethingbetter thanhername-IalludetoMrs.William’s qualities and disposition - never mind her name, though it isSwidger,by rights.Let ’emcallherSwidge,Widge,Bridge -Lord!LondonBridge,Blackfriars,Chelsea,Putney,Waterloo,orHammersmithSuspension-iftheylike.”

The close of this triumphant oration brought him and the plate to the table,uponwhichhehalf laidandhalfdropped it,witha lively senseof itsbeingthoroughlyheated,justasthesubjectofhispraisesenteredtheroom,bearinganother tray and a lantern, and followed by a venerable oldmanwith longgreyhair.

Mrs. William, like Mr. William, was a simple, innocent-looking person, inwhosesmoothcheeksthecheerfulredofherhusband’sofficialwaistcoatwasverypleasantlyrepeated.ButwhereasMr.William’slighthairstoodonendalloverhishead,andseemedtodrawhiseyesupwithitinanexcessofbustlingreadiness for anything, the dark brown hair of Mrs. William was carefullysmootheddown,andwavedawayunderatrimtidycap,inthemostexactandquiet manner imaginable. Whereas Mr. William’s very trousers hitchedthemselvesupat theankles,as if itwerenot intheir iron-greynaturetorest

without lookingabout them,Mrs.William’sneatly-flowered skirts - red andwhite,likeherownprettyface-wereascomposedandorderly,asiftheverywind that blew so hard out of doors could not disturb one of their folds.Whereashiscoathadsomethingofafly-awayandhalf-offappearanceaboutthecollarandbreast,herlittlebodicewassoplacidandneat,thatthereshouldhave been protection for her, in it, had she needed any, with the roughestpeople.Whocouldhavehad theheart tomake so calmabosomswellwithgrief,orthrobwithfear,orflutterwithathoughtofshame!Towhomwoulditsreposeandpeacehavenotappealedagainstdisturbance, liketheinnocentslumberofachild!

“Punctual,ofcourse,Milly,”saidherhusband,relievingherofthetray,“oritwouldn’tbeyou.Here’sMrs.William, sir! -He looks lonelier thanever to-night,” whispering to his wife, as he was taking the tray, “and ghostlieraltogether.”

Withoutanyshowofhurryornoise,oranyshowofherselfeven,shewassocalm and quiet,Milly set the dishes she had brought upon the table, -Mr.William, after much clattering and running about, having only gainedpossessionofabutter-boatofgravy,whichhestoodreadytoserve.

“Whatisthattheoldmanhasinhisarms?”askedMr.Redlaw,ashesatdowntohissolitarymeal.

“Holly,sir,”repliedthequietvoiceofMilly.

“That’swhat I saymyself, sir,” interposedMr.William, striking inwith thebutter-boat.“Berriesissoseasonabletothetimeofyear!-Browngravy!”

“AnotherChristmascome,anotheryeargone!”murmuredtheChemist,withagloomy sigh. “More figures in the lengthening sum of recollection that weworkandworkattoourtorment,tillDeathidlyjumblesalltogether,andrubsallout.So,Philip!”breakingoff,andraisinghisvoiceasheaddressedtheoldman, standing apart,with his glistening burden in his arms, fromwhich thequietMrs.Williamtooksmallbranches,whichshenoiselesslytrimmedwithherscissors,anddecoratedtheroomwith,whileheragedfather-in-lawlookedonmuchinterestedintheceremony.

“Myduty toyou,sir,” returned theoldman.“Shouldhavespokebefore,sir,

butknowyourways,Mr.Redlaw-proudtosay-andwaittillspoketo!MerryChristmas, sir, and Happy NewYear, andmany of ’em. Have had a prettymanyof’emmyself-ha,ha!-andmaytakethelibertyofwishing’em.I’meighty-seven!”

“Haveyouhadsomanythatweremerryandhappy?”askedtheother.

“Ay,sir,eversomany,”returnedtheoldman.

“Ishismemoryimpairedwithage?Itistobeexpectednow,”saidMr.Redlaw,turningtotheson,andspeakinglower.

“Not a morsel of it, sir,” replied Mr. William. “That’s exactly what I saymyself, sir. There never was such amemory asmy father’s. He’s themostwonderfulman in theworld.Hedon’t knowwhat forgettingmeans. It’s thevery observation I’m always making toMrs.William, sir, if you’ll believeme!”

Mr.Swidger,inhispolitedesiretoseemtoacquiesceatallevents,deliveredthis as if there were no iota of contradiction in it, and it were all said inunboundedandunqualifiedassent.

TheChemistpushedhisplateaway,and,risingfromthetable,walkedacrossthe room towhere theoldmanstood lookingata little sprigofholly inhishand.

“It recalls the timewhenmany of those yearswere old and new, then?” hesaid,observinghimattentively,andtouchinghimontheshoulder.“Doesit?”

“Ohmany,many!” said Philip, half awaking from his reverie. “I’m eighty-seven!”

“Merry and happy,was it?” asked theChemist in a low voice. “Merry andhappy,oldman?”

“Maybeashighasthat,nohigher,”saidtheoldman,holdingouthishandalittle way above the level of his knee, and looking retrospectively at hisquestioner, “when I first remember ’em! Cold, sunshiny day it was, out a-walking,whensomeone-itwasmymotherassureasyoustandthere,though

I don’t knowwhat her blessed facewas like, for she took ill and died thatChristmas-time - told me they were food for birds. The pretty little fellowthought-that’sme,youunderstand-thatbirds’eyesweresobright,perhaps,becausetheberriesthattheylivedoninthewinterweresobright.Irecollectthat.AndI’meighty-seven!”

“Merryandhappy!”musedtheother,bendinghisdarkeyesuponthestoopingfigure,withasmileofcompassion.“Merryandhappy-andrememberwell?”

“Ay,ay,ay!”resumedtheoldman,catchingthelastwords.“Iremember’emwellinmyschooltime,yearafteryear,andallthemerry-makingthatusedtocomealongwith them. Iwasa strongchap then,Mr.Redlaw;and, ifyou’llbelieve me, hadn’t my match at football within ten mile. Where’s my sonWilliam?Hadn’tmymatchatfootball,William,withintenmile!”

“That’swhatIalwayssay,father!”returnedthesonpromptly,andwithgreatrespect.“YouAREaSwidger,ifevertherewasoneofthefamily!”

“Dear!” said the oldman, shaking his head as he again looked at the holly.“Hismother-mysonWilliam’smyyoungestson-andI,havesatamong’emall, boys andgirls, little children andbabies,many a year,when the berrieslike thesewerenot shininghalf sobright all roundus, as their bright faces.Manyof’emaregone;she’sgone;andmysonGeorge(oureldest,whowasherpridemorethanalltherest!)isfallenverylow:butIcanseethem,whenIlookhere,aliveandhealthy,as theyused tobe in thosedays;and Icanseehim,thankGod,inhisinnocence.It’sablessedthingtome,ateighty-seven.”

Thekeen look thathadbeen fixeduponhimwith somuchearnestness, hadgraduallysoughttheground.

“Whenmycircumstancesgottobenotsogoodasformerly,throughnotbeinghonestlydealtby,andIfirstcomeheretobecustodian,”saidtheoldman,“-whichwasupwardsoffiftyyearsago-where’smysonWilliam?Morethanhalfacenturyago,William!”

“That’s what I say, father,” replied the son, as promptly and dutifully asbefore,“that’sexactlywhereitis.Twotimesought’sanought,andtwicefiveten,andthere’sahundredof’em.”

“Itwasquiteapleasuretoknowthatoneofourfounders-ormorecorrectlyspeaking,” said the old man, with a great glory in his subject and hisknowledgeofit,“oneofthelearnedgentlementhathelpedendowusinQueenElizabeth’stime,forwewerefoundedaforeherday-leftinhiswill,amongtheotherbequestshemadeus,somuchtobuyholly,forgarnishingthewallsandwindows,comeChristmas.Therewassomethinghomelyandfriendlyinit. Being but strange here, then, and coming at Christmas time, we took alikingforhisverypicterthathangsinwhatusedtobe,anciently,aforeourtenpoorgentlemencommuted foranannualstipend inmoney,ourgreatDinnerHall.-Asedategentlemaninapeakedbeard,witharuffroundhisneck,andascrollbelowhim,inoldEnglishletters,‘Lord!keepmymemorygreen!’Youknowallabouthim,Mr.Redlaw?”

“Iknowtheportraithangsthere,Philip.”

“Yes,sure,it’sthesecondontheright,abovethepanelling.Iwasgoingtosay-hehashelped tokeepmymemorygreen, I thankhim; forgoing round thebuilding every year, as I’m a doing now, and freshening up the bare roomswith these branches and berries, freshens up my bare old brain. One yearbringsbackanother,andthatyearanother,andthoseothersnumbers!Atlast,itseemstomeasifthebirth-timeofourLordwasthebirth-timeofallIhaveeverhadaffectionfor,ormournedfor,ordelightedin,-andthey’reaprettymany,forI’meighty-seven!”

“Merryandhappy,”murmuredRedlawtohimself.

Theroombegantodarkenstrangely.

“Soyou see, sir,” pursuedoldPhilip,whosehalewintry cheekhadwarmedintoa ruddierglow,andwhoseblueeyeshadbrightenedwhilehe spoke, “Ihaveplentytokeep,whenIkeepthispresentseason.Now,where’smyquietMouse?Chattering’sthesinofmytimeoflife,andthere’shalfthebuildingtodoyet,ifthecolddon’tfreezeusfirst,orthewinddon’tblowusaway,orthedarknessdon’tswallowusup.”

ThequietMousehadbroughthercalmfacetohisside,andsilentlytakenhisarm,beforehefinishedspeaking.

“Come away, my dear,” said the old man. “Mr. Redlawwon’t settle to his

dinner,otherwise,tillit’scoldasthewinter.Ihopeyou’llexcusemeramblingon,sir,andIwishyougoodnight,and,onceagain,amerry-”

“Stay!”saidMr.Redlaw,resuminghisplaceatthetable,more,itwouldhaveseemedfromhismanner,toreassuretheoldkeeper,thaninanyremembranceof his own appetite. “Spareme anothermoment, Philip.William, youweregoing to tell me something to your excellent wife’s honour. It will not bedisagreeabletohertohearyoupraiseher.Whatwasit?”

“Why,that’swhereitis,yousee,sir,”returnedMr.WilliamSwidger,lookingtowardshiswifeinconsiderableembarrassment.“Mrs.William’sgothereyeuponme.”

“Butyou’renotafraidofMrs.William’seye?”

“Why, no, sir,” returned Mr. Swidger, “that’s what I say myself. It wasn’tmade to be afraid of. It wouldn’t have beenmade so mild, if that was theintention. But I wouldn’t like to - Milly! - him, you know. Down in theBuildings.”

Mr.William,standingbehindthetable,andrummagingdisconcertedlyamongthe objects upon it, directed persuasive glances atMrs.William, and secretjerksofhisheadandthumbatMr.Redlaw,asalluringhertowardshim.

“Him,youknow,mylove,”saidMr.William.“Downin theBuildings.Tell,mydear!You’retheworksofShakespeareincomparisonwithmyself.DownintheBuildings,youknow,mylove.-Student.”

“Student?”repeatedMr.Redlaw,raisinghishead.

“That’swhatIsay,sir!”criedMr.William,intheutmostanimationofassent.“Ifitwasn’tthepoorstudentdownintheBuildings,whyshouldyouwishtohearitfromMrs.William’slips?Mrs.William,mydear-Buildings.”

“I didn’t know,” saidMilly, with a quiet frankness, free from any haste orconfusion,“thatWilliamhadsaidanythingaboutit,orIwouldn’thavecome.Iaskedhimnotto.It’sasickyounggentleman,sir-andverypoor,Iamafraid-whoistooilltogohomethisholiday-time,andlives,unknowntoanyone,inbutacommonkindoflodgingforagentleman,downinJerusalemBuildings.

That’sall,sir.”

“Whyhave Ineverheardofhim?”said theChemist, risinghurriedly. “Whyhashenotmadehissituationknowntome?Sick!-givememyhatandcloak.Poor!-whathouse?-whatnumber?”

“Oh, you mustn’t go there, sir,” said Milly, leaving her father-in-law, andcalmlyconfrontinghimwithhercollectedlittlefaceandfoldedhands.

“Notgothere?”

“Ohdear, no!” saidMilly, shaking her head as at amostmanifest and self-evidentimpossibility.“Itcouldn’tbethoughtof!”

“Whatdoyoumean?Whynot?”

“Why, you see, sir,” said Mr. William Swidger, persuasively andconfidentially,“that’swhatIsay.Dependuponit,theyounggentlemanwouldneverhavemadehissituationknowntooneofhisownsex.Mrs.Williamshasgot into his confidence, but that’s quite different. They all confide inMrs.William;theyalltrusther.Aman,sir,couldn’thavegotawhisperoutofhim;butwoman,sir,andMrs.Williamcombined-!”

“There is good sense and delicacy inwhat you say,William,” returnedMr.Redlaw,observantofthegentleandcomposedfaceathisshoulder.Andlayinghisfingeronhislip,hesecretlyputhispurseintoherhand.

“Oh dear no, sir!” cried Milly, giving it back again. “Worse and worse!Couldn’tbedreamedof!”

Such a staid matter-of-fact housewife she was, and so unruffled by themomentaryhasteof this rejection, that, an instant afterwards, shewas tidilypickingupafewleaveswhichhadstrayedfrombetweenherscissorsandherapron,whenshehadarrangedtheholly.

Finding,whensherosefromherstoopingposture, thatMr.Redlawwasstillregarding her with doubt and astonishment, she quietly repeated - lookingabout, the while, for any other fragments that might have escaped herobservation:

“Ohdearno,sir!Hesaidthatofalltheworldhewouldnotbeknowntoyou,orreceivehelpfromyou-thoughheisastudentinyourclass.Ihavemadenotermsofsecrecywithyou,butItrusttoyourhonourcompletely.”

“Whydidhesayso?”

“IndeedIcan’ttell,sir,”saidMilly,afterthinkingalittle,“becauseIamnotatallclever,youknow;andIwantedtobeusefultohiminmakingthingsneatandcomfortableabouthim,andemployedmyselfthatway.ButIknowheispoor,andlonely,andIthinkheissomehowneglectedtoo.-Howdarkitis!”

Theroomhaddarkenedmoreandmore.TherewasaveryheavygloomandshadowgatheringbehindtheChemist’schair.

“Whatmoreabouthim?”heasked.

“He is engaged to be married when he can afford it,” said Milly, “and isstudying,Ithink,toqualifyhimselftoearnaliving.Ihaveseen,alongtime,thathehasstudiedhardanddeniedhimselfmuch.-Howverydarkitis!”

“It’sturnedcolder,too,”saidtheoldman,rubbinghishands.“There’sachillanddismal feeling in theroom.Where’smysonWilliam?William,myboy,turnthelamp,androusethefire!”

Milly’svoiceresumed,likequietmusicverysoftlyplayed:

“He muttered in his broken sleep yesterday afternoon, after talking to me”(thiswas toherself)“aboutsomeonedead,andsomegreatwrongdone thatcould never be forgotten; but whether to him or to another person, I don’tknow.Notbyhim,Iamsure.”

“And, inshort,Mrs.William,yousee -whichshewouldn’t sayherself,Mr.Redlaw,ifshewastostopheretillthenewyearafterthisnextone-”saidMr.William,cominguptohimtospeakinhisear,“hasdonehimworldsofgood!Blessyou,worldsofgood!Allathomejustthesameasever-myfathermadeassnugandcomfortable-notacrumboflittertobefoundinthehouse,ifyouweretoofferfiftypoundreadymoneyforit-Mrs.Williamapparentlyneverout of theway - yetMrs.William backwards and forwards, backwards and

forwards,upanddown,upanddown,amothertohim!”

The room turned darker and colder, and the gloom and shadow gatheringbehindthechairwasheavier.

“Notcontentwiththis,sir,Mrs.Williamgoesandfinds,thisverynight,whenshewascominghome(whyit’snotaboveacoupleofhoursago),acreaturemorelikeayoungwildbeastthanayoungchild,shiveringuponadoor-step.WhatdoesMrs.Williamdo,butbringsithometodryit,andfeedit,andkeepittillouroldBountyoffoodandflannelisgivenaway,onChristmasmorning!Ifiteverfeltafirebefore,it’sasmuchaseveritdid;forit’ssittingintheoldLodgechimney,staringatoursasifitsravenouseyeswouldnevershutagain.It’ssittingthere,atleast,”saidMr.William,correctinghimself,onreflection,“unlessit’sbolted!”

“Heavenkeepherhappy!”saidtheChemistaloud,“andyoutoo,Philip!andyou,William! I must consider what to do in this. I may desire to see thisstudent,I’llnotdetainyouanylongernow.Good-night!”

“I thank’ee, sir, I thank’ee!” said the oldman, “forMouse, and formy sonWilliam, and for myself. Where’s my son William? William, you take thelanternandgoonfirst,throughthemlongdarkpassages,asyoudidlastyearandtheyearafore.Haha!Iremember-thoughI’meighty-seven!‘Lord,keepmymemorygreen!’ It’s averygoodprayer,Mr.Redlaw, thatof the learnedgentlemaninthepeakedbeard,witharuffroundhisneck-hangsup,secondon the right above the panelling, in what used to be, afore our ten poorgentlemencommuted,ourgreatDinnerHall.‘Lord,keepmymemorygreen!’It’sverygoodandpious,sir.Amen!Amen!”

As they passed out and shut the heavy door, which, however carefullywithheld, fireda long trainof thundering reverberationswhen it shutat last,theroomturneddarker.

Ashefellamusinginhischairalone,thehealthyhollywitheredonthewall,anddropped-deadbranches.

As the gloomand shadow thickened behind him, in that placewhere it hadbeengatheringsodarkly,ittook,byslowdegrees,-oroutofittherecame,bysomeunreal,unsubstantialprocess-nottobetracedbyanyhumansense,-an

awfullikenessofhimself!

Ghastlyandcold,colourlessinitsleadenfaceandhands,butwithhisfeatures,andhisbrighteyes,andhisgrizzledhair,anddressedinthegloomyshadowofhisdress,itcameintohisterribleappearanceofexistence,motionless,withoutasound.Asheleanedhisarmupontheelbowofhischair,ruminatingbeforethefire,itleaneduponthechair-back,closeabovehim,withitsappallingcopyofhisfacelookingwherehisfacelooked,andbearingtheexpressionhisfacebore.

This,then,wastheSomethingthathadpassedandgonealready.Thiswasthedreadcompanionofthehauntedman!

Ittook,forsomemoments,nomoreapparentheedofhim,thanheofit.TheChristmasWaits were playing somewhere in the distance, and, through histhoughtfulness,heseemedtolistentothemusic.Itseemedtolistentoo.

Atlengthhespoke;withoutmovingorliftinguphisface.

“Hereagain!”hesaid.

“Hereagain,”repliedthePhantom.

“Iseeyouinthefire,”saidthehauntedman;“Ihearyouinmusic,inthewind,inthedeadstillnessofthenight.”

ThePhantommoveditshead,assenting.

“Whydoyoucome,tohauntmethus?”

“IcomeasIamcalled,”repliedtheGhost.

“No.Unbidden,”exclaimedtheChemist.

“Unbiddenbeit,”saidtheSpectre.“Itisenough.Iamhere.”

Hitherto the light of the fire had shone on the two faces - if the dreadlineamentsbehindthechairmightbecalledaface-bothaddressedtowardsit,asatfirst,andneitherlookingattheother.But,now,thehauntedmanturned,

suddenly, and stared upon the Ghost. The Ghost, as sudden in its motion,passedtobeforethechair,andstaredonhim.

The living man, and the animated image of himself dead, might so havelooked,theoneupontheother.Anawfulsurvey,inalonelyandremotepartofanemptyoldpileofbuilding,onawinternight,withtheloudwindgoingbyupon its journeyofmystery-whenceorwhither,nomanknowingsince theworld began - and the stars, in unimaginablemillions, glittering through it,frometernalspace,wheretheworld’sbulkisasagrain,anditshoaryageisinfancy.

“Look upon me!” said the Spectre. “I am he, neglected in my youth, andmiserablypoor,whostroveandsuffered,andstillstroveandsuffered,untilIhewedoutknowledge from theminewhere itwasburied, andmade ruggedstepsthereof,formywornfeettorestandriseon.”

“Iamthatman,”returnedtheChemist.

“Nomother’sself-denyinglove,”pursuedthePhantom,“nofather’scounsel,aidedme.Astrangercameintomyfather’splacewhenIwasbutachild,andIwaseasilyanalienfrommymother’sheart.Myparents,at thebest,wereofthatsortwhosecaresoonends,andwhosedutyissoondone;whocast theiroffspringloose,early,asbirdsdotheirs;and,iftheydowell,claimthemerit;and,ifill,thepity.”

It paused, and seemed to tempt and goad him with its look, and with themannerofitsspeech,andwithitssmile.

“Iamhe,”pursuedthePhantom,“who,inthisstruggleupward,foundafriend.Imadehim-wonhim-boundhimtome!Weworkedtogether,sidebyside.All the love and confidence that inmy earlier youth had hadno outlet, andfoundnoexpression,Ibestowedonhim.”

“Notall,”saidRedlaw,hoarsely.

“No,notall,”returnedthePhantom.“Ihadasister.”

The hauntedman,with his head resting on his hands, replied “I had!” ThePhantom,withanevilsmile,drewclosertothechair,andrestingitschinupon

its foldedhands, its foldedhandsupon theback, and lookingdown intohisfacewithsearchingeyes,thatseemedinstinctwithfire,wenton:

“SuchglimpsesofthelightofhomeasIhadeverknown,hadstreamedfromher.Howyoungshewas,howfair,howloving!ItookhertothefirstpoorroofthatIwasmasterof,andmadeitrich.Shecameintothedarknessofmylife,andmadeitbright.-Sheisbeforeme!”

“Isawher, inthefire,butnow.Ihearherinmusic, inthewind,inthedeadstillnessofthenight,”returnedthehauntedman.

“Didheloveher?”saidthePhantom,echoinghiscontemplativetone.“Ithinkhedid,once. Iamsurehedid.Betterhadshe lovedhim less - lesssecretly,lessdearly,fromtheshallowerdepthsofamoredividedheart!”

“Letmeforgetit!”saidtheChemist,withanangrymotionofhishand.“Letmeblotitfrommymemory!”

The Spectre, without stirring, and with its unwinking, cruel eyes still fixeduponhisface,wenton:

“Adream,likehers,stoleuponmyownlife.”

“Itdid,”saidRedlaw.

“A love, as like hers,” pursued the Phantom, “as my inferior nature mightcherish,aroseinmyownheart.Iwastoopoortobinditsobjecttomyfortunethen,byanythreadofpromiseorentreaty.Ilovedherfartoowell,toseektodoit.But,morethaneverIhadstriveninmylife,Istrovetoclimb!Onlyaninchgained,broughtmesomethingnearertotheheight.Itoiledup!Inthelatepausesofmylabouratthattime,-mysister(sweetcompanion!)stillsharingwithmetheexpiringembersandthecoolinghearth,-whendaywasbreaking,whatpicturesofthefuturedidIsee!”

“Isawthem,inthefire,butnow,”hemurmured.“Theycomebacktomeinmusic,inthewind,inthedeadstillnessofthenight,intherevolvingyears.”

“ - Pictures of my own domestic life, in aftertime, with her who was theinspirationofmytoil.Picturesofmysister,madethewifeofmydearfriend,

on equal terms - for he had some inheritance, we none - pictures of oursoberedageandmellowedhappiness,andofthegoldenlinks,extendingbackso far, that should bind us, and our children, in a radiant garland,” said thePhantom.

“Pictures,”saidthehauntedman,“thatweredelusions.Whyisitmydoomtorememberthemtoowell!”

“Delusions,”echoedthePhantominitschangelessvoice,andglaringonhimwithitschangelesseyes.“Formyfriend(inwhosebreastmyconfidencewaslockedasinmyown),passingbetweenmeandthecentreofthesystemofmyhopesandstruggles,wonhertohimself,andshatteredmyfrailuniverse.Mysister,doublydear,doublydevoted,doublycheerfulinmyhome,livedontoseemefamous,andmyoldambitionsorewardedwhenitsspringwasbroken,andthen-”

“Thendied,”heinterposed.“Died,gentleasever;happy;andwithnoconcernbutforherbrother.Peace!”

ThePhantomwatchedhimsilently.

“Remembered!” said the haunted man, after a pause. “Yes. So wellremembered,thatevennow,whenyearshavepassed,andnothingismoreidleormore visionary tome than the boyish love so longoutlived, I thinkof itwithsympathy,asifitwereayoungerbrother’sorason’s.SometimesIevenwonder when her heart first inclined to him, and how it had been affectedtowards me. - Not lightly, once, I think. - But that is nothing. Earlyunhappiness,awoundfromahandIlovedandtrusted,andalossthatnothingcanreplace,outlivesuchfancies.”

“Thus,”said thePhantom,“IbearwithinmeaSorrowandaWrong.Thus Ipreyuponmyself.Thus,memoryismycurse;and,ifIcouldforgetmysorrowandmywrong,Iwould!”

“Mocker!”saidtheChemist,leapingup,andmaking,withawrathfulhand,atthethroatofhisotherself.“WhyhaveIalwaysthattauntinmyears?”

“Forbear!”exclaimedtheSpectreinanawfulvoice.“LayahandonMe,anddie!”

Hestoppedmidway,asifitswordshadparalysedhim,andstoodlookingonit.It had glided from him; it had its arm raised high in warning; and a smilepassedoveritsunearthlyfeatures,asitreareditsdarkfigureintriumph.

“If I could forgetmysorrowandwrong, Iwould,” theGhost repeated.“If Icouldforgetmysorrowandmywrong,Iwould!”

“Evil spirit ofmyself,” returned the hauntedman, in a low, trembling tone,“mylifeisdarkenedbythatincessantwhisper.”

“Itisanecho,”saidthePhantom.

“Ifitbeanechoofmythoughts-asnow,indeed,Iknowitis,”rejoinedthehaunted man, “why should I, therefore, be tormented? It is not a selfishthought. I suffer it to range beyondmyself.Allmen andwomen have theirsorrows, -most of them their wrongs; ingratitude, and sordid jealousy, andinterest,besettingalldegreesoflife.Whowouldnotforgettheirsorrowsandtheirwrongs?”

“Whowouldnot,truly,andbehappierandbetterforit?”saidthePhantom.

“These revolutions of years, which we commemorate,” proceeded Redlaw,“what do they recall!Are there anyminds inwhich they do not re-awakensomesorrow,orsometrouble?Whatistheremembranceoftheoldmanwhowashereto-night?Atissueofsorrowandtrouble.”

“Butcommonnatures,”said thePhantom,with itsevilsmileuponitsglassyface,“unenlightenedmindsandordinaryspirits,donotfeelorreasononthesethingslikemenofhighercultivationandprofounderthought.”

“Tempter,” answered Redlaw, “whose hollow look and voice I dread morethanwordscanexpress,andfromwhomsomedimforeshadowingofgreaterfearisstealingovermewhileIspeak,Ihearagainanechoofmyownmind.”

“ReceiveitasaproofthatIampowerful,”returnedtheGhost.“HearwhatIoffer!Forgetthesorrow,wrong,andtroubleyouhaveknown!”

“Forgetthem!”herepeated.

“I have the power to cancel their remembrance - to leave but very faint,confusedtracesofthem,thatwilldieoutsoon,”returnedtheSpectre.“Say!Isitdone?”

“Stay!” cried the haunted man, arresting by a terrified gesture the upliftedhand. “I tremblewith distrust and doubt of you; and the dim fear you castupon me deepens into a nameless horror I can hardly bear. - I would notdeprivemyself of any kindly recollection, or any sympathy that is good forme,orothers.WhatshallI lose,ifIassenttothis?Whatelsewillpassfrommyremembrance?”

“No knowledge; no result of study; nothing but the intertwisted chain offeelingsandassociations,eachinitsturndependenton,andnourishedby,thebanishedrecollections.Thosewillgo.”

“Aretheysomany?”saidthehauntedman,reflectinginalarm.

“Theyhavebeenwonttoshowthemselvesinthefire,inmusic,inthewind,inthedeadstillnessof thenight, in therevolvingyears,”returned thePhantomscornfully.

“Innothingelse?”

ThePhantomhelditspeace.

But having stoodbefore him, silent, for a littlewhile, itmoved towards thefire;thenstopped.

“Decide!”itsaid,“beforetheopportunityislost!”

“Amoment! I call Heaven to witness,” said the agitated man, “that I havenever been a hater of any kind, - never morose, indifferent, or hard, toanything aroundme. If, livinghere alone, I havemade toomuchof all thatwas andmight have been, and too little of what is, the evil, I believe, hasfallenonme,andnotonothers.But,iftherewerepoisoninmybody,shouldInot,possessedofantidotesandknowledgehowtousethem,usethem?Iftherebepoisoninmymind,andthroughthisfearfulshadowIcancastitout,shallInotcastitout?”

“Say,”saidtheSpectre,“isitdone?”

“Amomentlonger!”heansweredhurriedly.“IwouldforgetitifIcould!HaveIthoughtthat,alone,orhasitbeenthethoughtofthousandsuponthousands,generation after generation?All humanmemory is fraughtwith sorrow andtrouble.Mymemoryisasthememoryofothermen,butothermenhavenotthis choice.Yes, I close thebargain.Yes! IWILL forgetmysorrow,wrong,andtrouble!”

“Say,”saidtheSpectre,“isitdone?”

“Itis!”

“IT IS.And take thiswith you,manwhom I here renounce!Thegift that Ihave given, you shall give again, go where you will. Without recoveringyourselfthepowerthatyouhaveyieldedup,youshallhenceforthdestroyitslikeinallwhomyouapproach.Yourwisdomhasdiscoveredthatthememoryof sorrow, wrong, and trouble is the lot of all mankind, and that mankindwouldbethehappier,initsothermemories,withoutit.Go!Beitsbenefactor!Freedfromsuchremembrance,fromthishour,carryinvoluntarilytheblessingof such freedomwith you. Its diffusion is inseparable and inalienable fromyou.Go!Behappyinthegoodyouhavewon,andinthegoodyoudo!”

ThePhantom,whichhadhelditsbloodlesshandabovehimwhileitspoke,asifinsomeunholyinvocation,orsomeban;andwhichhadgraduallyadvanceditseyessoclose tohis, thathecouldseehowtheydidnotparticipate in theterriblesmileuponitsface,butwereafixed,unalterable,steadyhorrormeltedbeforehimandwasgone.

Ashestoodrootedtothespot,possessedbyfearandwonder,andimaginingheheard repeated inmelancholy echoes, dying away fainter and fainter, thewords,“Destroy its like inallwhomyouapproach!”ashrillcryreachedhisears.Itcame,notfromthepassagesbeyondthedoor,butfromanotherpartoftheoldbuilding,andsounded like thecryof someone in thedarkwhohadlosttheway.

He looked confusedly upon his hands and limbs, as if to be assured of hisidentity, and then shouted in reply, loudly and wildly; for there was a

strangenessandterroruponhim,asifhetoowerelost.

The cry responding, and being nearer, he caught up the lamp, and raised aheavycurtaininthewall,bywhichhewasaccustomedtopassintoandoutofthe theatre where he lectured, - which adjoined his room. Associated withyouth and animation, and a high amphitheatre of faces which his entrancecharmedtointerestinamoment,itwasaghostlyplacewhenallthislifewasfadedoutofit,andstareduponhimlikeanemblemofDeath.

“Halloa!”hecried.“Halloa!Thisway!Cometothelight!”When,asheheldthe curtain with one hand, and with the other raised the lamp and tried topiercethegloomthatfilledtheplace,somethingrushedpasthimintotheroomlikeawild-cat,andcroucheddowninacorner.

“Whatisit?”hesaid,hastily.

Hemighthaveasked“What is it?”evenhadheseen itwell,aspresentlyhedidwhenhestoodlookingatitgatheredupinitscorner.

A bundle of tatters, held together by a hand, in size and form almost aninfant’s, but in its greedy, desperate little clutch, a bad old man’s. A faceroundedandsmoothedbysomehalf-dozenyears,butpinchedandtwistedbytheexperiencesofalife.Brighteyes,butnotyouthful.Nakedfeet,beautifulintheirchildishdelicacy,-uglyinthebloodanddirtthatcrackeduponthem.Ababysavage,ayoungmonster,achildwhohadneverbeenachild,acreaturewhomightlivetotaketheoutwardformofman,butwho,within,wouldliveandperishamerebeast.

Used,already,tobeworriedandhuntedlikeabeast,theboycroucheddownashewaslookedat,andlookedbackagain,andinterposedhisarmtowardofftheexpectedblow.

“I’llbite,”hesaid,“ifyouhitme!”

The time had been, and notmanyminutes since,when such a sight as thiswould havewrung theChemist’s heart.He looked upon it now, coldly; butwithaheavyefforttoremembersomething-hedidnotknowwhat-heaskedtheboywhathedidthere,andwhencehecame.

“Where’sthewoman?”hereplied.“Iwanttofindthewoman.”

“Who?”

“Thewoman.Herthatbroughtmehere,andsetmebythelargefire.Shewassolonggone,thatIwenttolookforher,andlostmyself.Idon’twantyou.Iwantthewoman.”

Hemadeaspring,sosuddenly,togetaway,thatthedullsoundofhisnakedfeetuponthefloorwasnearthecurtain,whenRedlawcaughthimbyhisrags.

“Come!youletmego!”mutteredtheboy,struggling,andclenchinghisteeth.“I’vedonenothingtoyou.Letmego,willyou,tothewoman!”

“Thatisnottheway.Thereisanearerone,”saidRedlaw,detaininghim,inthesameblankeffort to remembersomeassociation thatought,of right, tobearuponthismonstrousobject.“Whatisyourname?”

“Gotnone.”

“Wheredoyoulive?

“Live!What’sthat?”

Theboyshookhishairfromhiseyestolookathimforamoment,andthen,twistingroundhislegsandwrestlingwithhim,brokeagainintohisrepetitionof“Youletmego,willyou?Iwanttofindthewoman.”

The Chemist led him to the door. “This way,” he said, looking at him stillconfusedly,butwithrepugnanceandavoidance,growingoutofhiscoldness.“I’lltakeyoutoher.”

Thesharpeyesinthechild’shead,wanderingroundtheroom,lightedonthetablewheretheremnantsofthedinnerwere.

“Givemesomeofthat!”hesaid,covetously.

“Hasshenotfedyou?”

“Ishallbehungryagainto-morrow,sha’n’tI?Ain’tIhungryeveryday?”

Findinghimself released,heboundedat the table like somesmall animalofprey,andhuggingtohisbreastbreadandmeat,andhisownrags,alltogether,said:

“There!Nowtakemetothewoman!”

AstheChemist,withanew-borndisliketotouchhim,sternlymotionedhimtofollow,andwasgoingoutofthedoor,hetrembledandstopped.

“ThegiftthatIhavegiven,youshallgiveagain,gowhereyouwill!”

ThePhantom’swordswereblowinginthewind,andthewindblewchilluponhim.

“I’ll not go there, to-night,” hemurmured faintly. “I’ll gonowhere to-night.Boy!straightdownthislong-archedpassage,andpastthegreatdarkdoorintotheyard,-youseethefireshiningonthewindowthere.”

“Thewoman’sfire?”inquiredtheboy.

Henodded,andthenakedfeethadsprungaway.Hecamebackwithhislamp,lockedhisdoorhastily,andsatdowninhischair,coveringhis face likeonewhowasfrightenedathimself.

Fornowhewas,indeed,alone.Alone,alone.

CHAPTERII-TheGiftDiffused

A smallman sat in a small parlour, partitioned off from a small shop by asmall screen, pasted all over with small scraps of newspapers. In companywiththesmallman,wasalmostanyamountofsmallchildrenyoumaypleaseto name - at least it seemed so; they made, in that very limited sphere ofaction,suchanimposingeffect,inpointofnumbers.

Ofthesesmallfry,twohad,bysomestrongmachinery,beengotintobedinacorner, where they might have reposed snugly enough in the sleep ofinnocence, but for a constitutional propensity to keep awake, and also toscuffleinandoutofbed.Theimmediateoccasionofthesepredatorydashesatthewakingworld,wastheconstructionofanoyster-shellwallinacorner,bytwo other youths of tender age; onwhich fortification the two in bedmadeharassing descents (like those accursed Picts and Scots who beleaguer theearlyhistoricalstudiesofmostyoungBritons),andthenwithdrewtotheirownterritory.

Inadditiontothestirattendantontheseinroads,andtheretortsoftheinvaded,who pursued hotly, and made lunges at the bed-clothes under which themarauderstookrefuge,anotherlittleboy,inanotherlittlebed,contributedhismiteofconfusiontothefamilystock,bycastinghisbootsuponthewaters;inother words, by launching these and several small objects, inoffensive inthemselves, though of a hard substance considered as missiles, at thedisturbersofhisrepose,-whowerenotslowtoreturnthesecompliments.

Besides which, another little boy - the biggest there, but still little - wastotteringtoandfro,bentononeside,andconsiderablyaffectedinhiskneesbytheweightof a largebaby,whichhewas supposedbya fiction thatobtainssometimes in sanguine families, to be hushing to sleep. But oh! theinexhaustible regions of contemplation and watchfulness into which thisbaby’seyeswerethenonlybeginningtocomposethemselvestostare,overhisunconsciousshoulder!

ItwasaveryMolochofababy,onwhoseinsatiatealtarthewholeexistenceofthisparticularyoungbrotherwasofferedupadaily sacrifice. Itspersonalitymaybesaid tohaveconsisted in itsneverbeingquiet, inanyoneplace, forfiveconsecutiveminutes,andnevergoingtosleepwhenrequired.“Tetterby’sbaby”wasaswellknownintheneighbourhoodasthepostmanorthepot-boy.Itrovedfromdoor-steptodoor-step,inthearmsoflittleJohnnyTetterby,andlaggedheavilyattherearoftroopsofjuvenileswhofollowedtheTumblersor

theMonkey,andcameup,allononeside,alittletoolateforeverythingthatwas attractive, from Monday morning until Saturday night. Whereverchildhoodcongregatedtoplay,therewaslittleMolochmakingJohnnyfagandtoil. Wherever Johnny desired to stay, little Moloch became fractious, andwouldnot remain.Whenever Johnnywanted to goout,Molochwas asleep,andmustbewatched.WheneverJohnnywantedtostayathome,Molochwasawake,andmustbetakenout.YetJohnnywasverilypersuadedthatitwasafaultlessbaby,withoutitspeerintherealmofEngland,andwasquitecontenttocatchmeekglimpsesofthingsingeneralfrombehinditsskirts,oroveritslimpflappingbonnet,andtogostaggeringaboutwithitlikeaverylittleporterwithaverylargeparcel,whichwasnotdirectedtoanybody,andcouldneverbedeliveredanywhere.

Thesmallmanwhosatinthesmallparlour,makingfruitlessattemptstoreadhisnewspaperpeaceablyinthemidstofthisdisturbance,wasthefatherofthefamily,andthechiefofthefirmdescribedintheinscriptionoverthelittleshopfront, by the name and title of A. TETTERBY AND CO., NEWSMEN.Indeed, strictly speaking, he was the only personage answering to thatdesignation, asCo.was amere poetical abstraction, altogether baseless andimpersonal.

Tetterby’swasthecornershopinJerusalemBuildings.Therewasagoodshowof literature in the window, chiefly consisting of picture-newspapers out ofdate, and serial pirates, and footpads.Walking-sticks, likewise, andmarbles,were included in the stock in trade. It had once extended into the lightconfectioneryline;butitwouldseemthatthoseeleganciesoflifewerenotindemandaboutJerusalemBuildings,fornothingconnectedwiththatbranchofcommerce remained in the window, except a sort of small glass lanterncontainingalanguishingmassofbull’s-eyes,whichhadmeltedinthesummerandcongealedinthewinteruntilallhopeofevergettingthemout,orofeatingthemwithouteatingthelanterntoo,wasgoneforever.Tetterby’shadtrieditshandatseveralthings.Ithadoncemadeafeeblelittledartatthetoybusiness;for, in another lantern, there was a heap of minute wax dolls, all stickingtogetherupsidedown,inthedirestconfusion,withtheirfeetononeanother’sheads,andaprecipitateofbrokenarmsandlegsatthebottom.Ithadmadeamove in the millinery direction, which a few dry, wiry bonnet-shapesremainedinacornerofthewindowtoattest.Ithadfanciedthatalivingmightliehiddeninthetobaccotrade,andhadstuckuparepresentationofanativeofeach of the three integral portions of the British Empire, in the act of

consuming that fragrantweed;with a poetic legend attached, importing thatunited inonecause theysatand joked,onechewed tobacco,one tooksnuff,onesmoked:butnothingseemedtohavecomeofit-exceptflies.Timehadbeenwhenithadputaforlorntrustinimitativejewellery,forinonepaneofglass there was a card of cheap seals, and another of pencil-cases, and amysteriousblack amulet of inscrutable intention, labelledninepence.But, tothathour,JerusalemBuildingshadboughtnoneof them.Inshort,Tetterby’shadtriedsohardtogetalivelihoodoutofJerusalemBuildingsinonewayorother,andappearedtohavedonesoindifferentlyinall,thatthebestpositionin the firm was too evidently Co.’s; Co., as a bodiless creation, beinguntroubled with the vulgar inconveniences of hunger and thirst, beingchargeable neither to the poor’s-rates nor the assessed taxes, and having noyoungfamilytoprovidefor.

Tetterbyhimself,however, inhis littleparlour,asalreadymentioned,havingthe presence of a young family impressed upon his mind in a manner tooclamorous to be disregarded, or to comport with the quiet perusal of anewspaper,laiddownhispaper,wheeled,inhisdistraction,afewtimesroundtheparlour,likeanundecidedcarrier-pigeon,madeanineffectualrushatoneor two flying little figures in bed-gowns that skimmed past him, and then,bearing suddenly down upon the only unoffending member of the family,boxedtheearsoflittleMoloch’snurse.

“You bad boy!” said Mr. Tetterby, “haven’t you any feeling for your poorfatherafterthefatiguesandanxietiesofahardwinter’sday,sincefiveo’clockin the morning, but must you wither his rest, and corrode his latestintelligence,withyourwicious tricks? Isn’t it enough, sir, that your brother’Dolphusistoilingandmoilinginthefogandcold,andyourollinginthelapof luxurywith a -with a baby, and everything you canwish for,” saidMr.Tetterby,heapingthisupasagreatclimaxofblessings,“butmustyoumakeawildernessofhome,andmaniacsofyourparents?Mustyou,Johnny?Hey?”Ateachinterrogation,Mr.Tetterbymadeafeintofboxinghisearsagain,butthoughtbetterofit,andheldhishand.

“Oh,father!”whimperedJohnny,“whenIwasn’tdoinganything,I’msure,buttakingsuchcareofSally,andgettinghertosleep.Oh,father!”

“Iwishmylittlewomanwouldcomehome!”saidMr.Tetterby,relentingandrepenting,“Ionlywishmylittlewomanwouldcomehome!Iain’tfittodeal

with’em.Theymakemyheadgoround,andgetthebetterofme.Oh,Johnny!Isn’titenoughthatyourdearmotherhasprovidedyouwiththatsweetsister?”indicatingMoloch;“isn’titenoughthatyouweresevenboysbeforewithoutarayofgal,andthatyourdearmotherwentthroughwhatshedidgothrough,on purpose that you might all of you have a little sister, but must you sobehaveyourselfastomakemyheadswim?”

Softeningmoreandmore,ashisowntenderfeelingsandthoseofhisinjuredson were worked on, Mr. Tetterby concluded by embracing him, andimmediatelybreakingawaytocatchoneoftherealdelinquents.Areasonablygoodstartoccurring,hesucceeded,afterashortbutsmartrun,andsomeratherseverecross-countryworkunderandoverthebedsteads,andinandoutamongthe intricacies of the chairs, in capturing this infant, whom he condignlypunished, and bore to bed. This example had a powerful, and apparently,mesmericinfluenceonhimoftheboots,whoinstantlyfellintoadeepsleep,though he had been, but amoment before, broad awake, and in the highestpossiblefeather.Norwasitlostuponthetwoyoungarchitects,whoretiredtobed,inanadjoiningcloset,withgreatprivacyandspeed.ThecomradeoftheIntercepted One also shrinking into his nest with similar discretion, Mr.Tetterby,whenhepausedforbreath,foundhimselfunexpectedlyinasceneofpeace.

“Mylittlewomanherself,”saidMr.Tetterby,wipinghisflushedface,“couldhardlyhavedoneitbetter!Ionlywishmylittlewomanhadhadittodo,Idoindeed!”

Mr.Tetterbysoughtuponhisscreenforapassageappropriatetobeimpresseduponhischildren’smindsontheoccasion,andreadthefollowing.

“‘It is an undoubted fact that all remarkable men have had remarkablemothers,andhaverespectedtheminafterlifeastheirbestfriends.’Thinkofyour own remarkable mother, my boys,” saidMr. Tetterby, “and know hervaluewhilesheisstillamongyou!”

He sat down again in his chair by the fire, and composed himself, cross-legged,overhisnewspaper.

“Letanybody,Idon’tcarewhoitis,getoutofbedagain,”saidTetterby,asageneral proclamation, delivered in a very soft-hearted manner, “and

astonishment will be the portion of that respected contemporary!” - whichexpressionMr.Tetterbyselectedfromhisscreen.“Johnny,mychild,takecareof your only sister, Sally; for she’s the brightest gem that ever sparkled onyourearlybrow.”

Johnnysatdownonalittlestool,anddevotedlycrushedhimselfbeneaththeweightofMoloch.

“Ah, what a gift that baby is to you, Johnny!” said his father, “and howthankfulyouought tobe! ‘It isnotgenerallyknown, Johnny,’”hewasnowreferring to the screen again, “‘but it is a fact ascertained, by accuratecalculations, that thefollowingimmensepercentageofbabiesneverattaintotwoyearsold;thatistosay-’”

“Oh, don’t, father, please!” cried Johnny. “I can’t bear it, when I think ofSally.”

Mr.Tetterbydesisting, Johnny,withaprofoundsenseofhis trust,wipedhiseyes,andhushedhissister.

“Your brother ’Dolphus,” said his father, poking the fire, “is late to-night,Johnny, and will come home like a lump of ice.What’s got your preciousmother?”

“Here’smother,and’Dolphustoo,father!”exclaimedJohnny,“Ithink.”

“You’re right!” returnedhis father, listening. “Yes, that’s the footstep ofmylittlewoman.”

Theprocessof induction,bywhichMrTetterbyhadcome to theconclusionthathiswifewasa littlewoman,washisownsecret.Shewouldhavemadetwo editions of himself, very easily. Considered as an individual, she wasratherremarkableforbeingrobustandportly;butconsideredwithreferencetoherhusband,herdimensionsbecamemagnificent.Nordidtheyassumealessimposing proportion, when studied with reference to the size of her sevensons,whowerebutdiminutive. In thecaseofSally,however,Mrs.Tetterbyhad asserted herself, at last; as nobody knew better than the victim Johnny,whoweighedandmeasuredthatexactingidoleveryhourintheday.

Mrs.Tetterby,whohadbeenmarketing,andcarriedabasket,threwbackherbonnetandshawl,andsittingdown,fatigued,commandedJohnnytobringhissweetchargetoherstraightway,forakiss.Johnnyhavingcomplied,andgonebacktohisstool,andagaincrushedhimself,MasterAdolphusTetterby,whohadby this timeunwoundhis torsooutof aprismatic comforter, apparentlyinterminable, requested thesamefavour. Johnnyhavingagaincomplied,andagaingonebacktohisstool,andagaincrushedhimself,Mr.Tetterby,struckbyasuddenthought,preferredthesameclaimonhisownparentalpart.Thesatisfaction of this third desire completely exhausted the sacrifice,who hadhardlybreathenoughlefttogetbacktohisstool,crushhimselfagain,andpantathisrelations.

“Whateveryoudo,Johnny,”saidMrs.Tetterby,shakingherhead,“takecareofher,orneverlookyourmotherinthefaceagain.”

“Noryourbrother,”saidAdolphus.

“Noryourfather,Johnny,”addedMr.Tetterby.

Johnny,muchaffectedbythisconditionalrenunciationofhim,lookeddownatMoloch’seyes tosee that theywereall right, so far,andskilfullypattedherback(whichwasuppermost),androckedherwithhisfoot.

“Areyouwet,’Dolphus,myboy?”saidhisfather.“Comeandtakemychair,anddryyourself.”

“No, father, thank’ee,” said Adolphus, smoothing himself down with hishands.“Ian’tverywet,Idon’tthink.Doesmyfaceshinemuch,father?”

“Well,itdoeslookwaxy,myboy,”returnedMr.Tetterby.

“It’s the weather, father,” said Adolphus, polishing his cheeks on the wornsleeveofhisjacket.“Whatwithrain,andsleet,andwind,andsnow,andfog,myfacegetsquitebroughtoutintoarashsometimes.Andshines,itdoes-oh,don’tit,though!”

MasterAdolphuswasalsointhenewspaperlineoflife,beingemployed,byamore thriving firm thanhis father andCo., tovendnewspapers at a railwaystation,where his chubby little person, like a shabbily-disguisedCupid, and

hisshrilllittlevoice(hewasnotmuchmorethantenyearsold),wereaswellknown as the hoarse panting of the locomotives, running in and out. Hisjuvenilitymight have been at some loss for a harmless outlet, in this earlyapplication to traffic, but for a fortunate discovery he made of a means ofentertaining himself, and of dividing the long day into stages of interest,withoutneglectingbusiness.Thisingeniousinvention,remarkable,likemanygreatdiscoveries,foritssimplicity,consistedinvaryingthefirstvowelintheword“paper,”andsubstituting,initsstead,atdifferentperiodsoftheday,allthe other vowels in grammatical succession. Thus, before daylight in thewinter-time,hewenttoandfro,inhislittleoilskincapandcape,andhisbigcomforter, piercing theheavy airwithhis cryof “Morn-ingPa-per!”which,about an hour before noon, changed to “Morn-ingPepper!”which, at abouttwo,changed to“Morn-ingPip-per!”which inacoupleofhourschanged to“Morn-ingPop-per!”andsodeclinedwiththesuninto“Eve-ningPup-per!”tothegreatreliefandcomfortofthisyounggentleman’sspirits.

Mrs. Tetterby, his lady-mother, who had been sitting with her bonnet andshawlthrownback,asaforesaid,thoughtfullyturningherwedding-ringroundandrounduponherfinger,nowrose,anddivestingherselfofherout-of-doorattire,begantolaytheclothforsupper.

“Ah, dear me, dear me, dear me!” saidMrs. Tetterby. “That’s the way theworldgoes!”

“Which is the way the world goes, my dear?” askedMr. Tetterby, lookinground.

“Oh,nothing,”saidMrs.Tetterby.

Mr.Tetterbyelevatedhiseyebrows,foldedhisnewspaperafresh,andcarriedhiseyesupit,anddownit,andacrossit,butwaswanderinginhisattention,andnotreadingit.

Mrs. Tetterby, at the same time, laid the cloth, but rather as if she werepunishing the table thanpreparing the familysupper;hitting itunnecessarilyhardwiththeknivesandforks,slappingitwiththeplates,dintingitwiththesalt-cellar,andcomingheavilydownuponitwiththeloaf.

“Ah, dear me, dear me, dear me!” saidMrs. Tetterby. “That’s the way the

worldgoes!”

“Myduck,”returnedherhusband,lookingroundagain,“yousaidthatbefore.Whichisthewaytheworldgoes?”

“Oh,nothing!”saidMrs.Tetterby.

“Sophia!”remonstratedherhusband,“yousaidthatbefore,too.”

“Well, I’ll say it again if you like,” returned Mrs. Tetterby. “Oh nothing -there!And again if you like, oh nothing - there!And again if you like, ohnothing-nowthen!”

Mr.Tetterbybroughthiseyetobearuponthepartnerofhisbosom,andsaid,inmildastonishment:

“Mylittlewoman,whathasputyouout?”

“I’msureIdon’tknow,”sheretorted.“Don’taskme.WhosaidIwasputoutatall?Ineverdid.”

Mr.Tetterbygaveuptheperusalofhisnewspaperasabadjob,and,takingaslow walk across the room, with his hands behind him, and his shouldersraised - his gait according perfectly with the resignation of his manner -addressedhimselftohistwoeldestoffspring.

“Yoursupperwillbe ready inaminute, ’Dolphus,”saidMr.Tetterby.“Yourmotherhasbeenoutinthewet,tothecook’sshop,tobuyit.Itwasverygoodof yourmother so to do.You shall get some supper too, very soon, Johnny.Your mother’s pleased with you, my man, for being so attentive to yourprecioussister.”

Mrs. Tetterby, without any remark, but with a decided subsidence of heranimosity towards the table, finished her preparations, and took, from heramplebasket,asubstantialslabofhotpeasepuddingwrappedinpaper,andabasincoveredwithasaucer,which,onbeinguncovered,sentforthanodoursoagreeable, that the threepairofeyes in the twobedsopenedwideandfixedthemselves upon the banquet. Mr. Tetterby, without regarding this tacitinvitationtobeseated,stoodrepeatingslowly,“Yes,yes,yoursupperwillbe

readyinaminute,’Dolphus-yourmotherwentoutinthewet,tothecook’sshop,tobuyit.Itwasverygoodofyourmothersotodo”-untilMrs.Tetterby,whohadbeenexhibitingsundrytokensofcontritionbehindhim,caughthimroundtheneck,andwept.

“Oh,Dolphus!”saidMrs.Tetterby,“howcouldIgoandbehaveso?”

ThisreconciliationaffectedAdolphustheyoungerandJohnnytothatdegree,thattheyboth,aswithoneaccord,raisedadismalcry,whichhadtheeffectofimmediatelyshuttinguptheroundeyesinthebeds,andutterlyroutingthetworemaininglittleTetterbys,justthenstealinginfromtheadjoiningclosettoseewhatwasgoingonintheeatingway.

“Iamsure, ’Dolphus,” sobbedMrs.Tetterby,“cominghome, Ihadnomoreideathanachildunborn-”

Mr.Tetterbyseemedtodislikethisfigureofspeech,andobserved,“Saythanthebaby,mydear.”

“-Hadnomoreideathanthebaby,”saidMrs.Tetterby.-“Johnny,don’tlookatme, but look at her, or she’ll fall out of your lap and be killed, and thenyou’lldieinagoniesofabrokenheart,andserveyouright.-NomoreideaIhadn’t than that darling, of being cross when I came home; but somehow,’Dolphus-”Mrs.Tetterbypaused,andagainturnedherwedding-ringroundandrounduponherfinger.

“Isee!”saidMr.Tetterby.“Iunderstand!Mylittlewomanwasputout.Hardtimes,andhardweather,andhardwork,make it tryingnowand then. I see,blessyoursoul!Nowonder!Dolf,myman,”continuedMr.Tetterby,exploringthebasinwithafork,“here’syourmotherbeenandbought,atthecook’sshop,besidespeasepudding,awholeknuckleofalovelyroastlegofpork,withlotsof crackling left upon it, and with seasoning gravy and mustard quiteunlimited.Handinyourplate,myboy,andbeginwhileit’ssimmering.”

MasterAdolphus,needingnosecondsummons,receivedhisportionwitheyesrenderedmoistbyappetite,andwithdrawingtohisparticularstool,felluponhissuppertoothandnail.Johnnywasnotforgotten,butreceivedhisrationsonbread, lest he should, in a flush of gravy, trickle any on the baby. He wasrequired,forsimilarreasons,tokeephispudding,whennotonactiveservice,

inhispocket.

Theremighthavebeenmoreporkon theknucklebone,-whichknucklebonethe carver at the cook’s shop had assuredly not forgotten in carving forprevious customers - but there was no stint of seasoning, and that is anaccessorydreamilysuggestingpork,andpleasantlycheatingthesenseoftaste.Thepeasepudding,too,thegravyandmustard,liketheEasternroseinrespectofthenightingale,iftheywerenotabsolutelypork,hadlivednearit;so,uponthewhole,therewastheflavourofamiddle-sizedpig.ItwasirresistibletotheTetterbys inbed,who, thoughprofessing to slumberpeacefully, crawledoutwhenunseenby theirparents,andsilentlyappealed to theirbrothers foranygastronomic token of fraternal affection.They, not hard of heart, presentingscrapsinreturn,itresultedthatapartyoflightskirmishersinnightgownswerecareering about the parlour all through supper,which harassedMr. Tetterbyexceedingly,andonceor twice imposeduponhim thenecessityofacharge,before which these guerilla troops retired in all directions and in greatconfusion.

Mrs.Tetterbydidnotenjoyhersupper.ThereseemedtobesomethingonMrs.Tetterby’smind.Atonetimeshelaughedwithoutreason,andatanothertimeshe cried without reason, and at last she laughed and cried together in amannersoveryunreasonablethatherhusbandwasconfounded.

“Mylittlewoman,”saidMr.Tetterby,“iftheworldgoesthatway,itappearstogothewrongway,andtochokeyou.”

“Givemeadropofwater,” saidMrs.Tetterby, strugglingwithherself, “anddon’tspeaktomeforthepresent,ortakeanynoticeofme.Don’tdoit!”

Mr.Tetterbyhavingadministered thewater, turned suddenlyon theunluckyJohnny (whowas full of sympathy), and demandedwhy hewaswallowingthere,ingluttonyandidleness,insteadofcomingforwardwiththebaby,thatthe sight of her might revive his mother. Johnny immediately approached,bornedownby itsweight;butMrs.Tetterbyholdingoutherhand tosignifythat shewasnot in a condition tobear that tryingappeal toher feelings,hewasinterdictedfromadvancinganotherinch,onpainofperpetualhatredfromall his dearest connections; and accordingly retired to his stool again, andcrushedhimselfasbefore.

Afterapause,Mrs.Tetterbysaidshewasbetternow,andbegantolaugh.

“My littlewoman,” said her husband, dubiously, “are you quite sure you’rebetter?Orareyou,Sophia,abouttobreakoutinafreshdirection?”

“No, ’Dolphus, no,” repliedhiswife. “I’mquitemyself.”With that, settlingherhair,andpressingthepalmsofherhandsuponhereyes,shelaughedagain.

“What awicked fool Iwas, to think so for amoment!” saidMrs. Tetterby.“Comenearer,’Dolphus,andletmeeasemymind,andtellyouwhatImean.Letmetellyouallaboutit.”

Mr.Tetterbybringinghischaircloser,Mrs.Tetterbylaughedagain,gavehimahug,andwipedhereyes.

“Youknow,Dolphus,mydear,”saidMrs.Tetterby,“thatwhenIwassingle,Imighthavegivenmyselfawayinseveraldirections.Atonetime,fouraftermeatonce;twoofthemweresonsofMars.”

“We’reallsonsofMa’s,mydear,”saidMr.Tetterby,“jointlywithPa’s.”

“Idon’tmeanthat,”repliedhiswife,“Imeansoldiers-serjeants.”

“Oh!”saidMr.Tetterby.

“Well,’Dolphus,I’msureIneverthinkofsuchthingsnow,toregretthem;andI’msureI’vegotasgoodahusband,andwoulddoasmuchtoprovethatIwasfondofhim,as-”

“As any little woman in the world,” said Mr. Tetterby. “Very good. Verygood.”

IfMr.Tetterbyhadbeentenfeethigh,hecouldnothaveexpressedagentlerconsideration forMrs.Tetterby’s fairy-like stature; and ifMrs.Tetterby hadbeentwofeethigh,shecouldnothavefeltitmoreappropriatelyherdue.

“Butyousee,’Dolphus,”saidMrs.Tetterby,“thisbeingChristmas-time,whenallpeoplewhocan,makeholiday,andwhenallpeoplewhohavegotmoney,liketospendsome,Idid,somehow,getalittleoutofsortswhenIwasinthe

streetsjustnow.Thereweresomanythingstobesold-suchdeliciousthingstoeat, such fine things to lookat, suchdelightful things tohave - and therewas somuch calculating and calculating necessary, before I durst lay out asixpenceforthecommonestthing;andthebasketwassolarge,andwantedsomuchinit;andmystockofmoneywassosmall,andwouldgosucha littleway;-youhateme,don’tyou,’Dolphus?”

“Notquite,”saidMr.Tetterby,“asyet.”

“Well! I’ll tell you thewhole truth,” pursuedhiswife, penitently, “and thenperhaps youwill. I felt all this, somuch,when Iwas trudging about in thecold,andwhenIsawalotofothercalculatingfacesandlargebasketstrudgingabout,too,thatIbegantothinkwhetherImightn’thavedonebetter,andbeenhappier, if - I - hadn’t - ” the wedding-ring went round again, and Mrs.Tetterbyshookherdowncastheadassheturnedit.

“Isee,”saidherhusbandquietly;“ifyouhadn’tmarriedatall,orifyouhadmarriedsomebodyelse?”

“Yes,” sobbedMrs.Tetterby. “That’s reallywhat I thought.Doyouhatemenow,’Dolphus?”

“Whyno,”saidMr.Tetterby.“Idon’tfindthatIdo,asyet.”

Mrs.Tetterbygavehimathankfulkiss,andwenton.

“Ibegin tohopeyouwon’t,now,’Dolphus, thoughI’mafraidIhaven’t toldyoutheworst.Ican’tthinkwhatcameoverme.Idon’tknowwhetherIwasill,ormad,orwhatIwas,butIcouldn’tcallupanythingthatseemedtobindus to each other, or to reconcile me to my fortune. All the pleasures andenjoymentswehadeverhad-theyseemedsopoorandinsignificant,Ihatedthem.Icouldhavetroddenonthem.AndIcouldthinkofnothingelse,exceptourbeingpoor,andthenumberofmouthstherewereathome.”

“Well, well, my dear,” said Mr. Tetterby, shaking her hand encouragingly,“that’struth,afterall.Wearepoor,andthereareanumberofmouthsathomehere.”

“Ah! but,Dolf,Dolf!” cried hiswife, laying her hands upon his neck, “my

good,kind,patientfellow,whenIhadbeenathomeaverylittlewhile-howdifferent!Oh,Dolf,dear,howdifferentitwas!Ifeltasiftherewasarushofrecollectiononme,allatonce,thatsoftenedmyhardheart,andfilledituptillitwasbursting.Allourstrugglesforalivelihood,allourcaresandwantssincewehavebeenmarried,allthetimesofsickness,allthehoursofwatching,wehaveeverhad,byoneanother,orbythechildren,seemedtospeaktome,andsaythattheyhadmadeusone,andthatInevermighthavebeen,orcouldhavebeen,orwouldhavebeen,anyotherthanthewifeandmotherIam.Then,thecheapenjoymentsthatIcouldhavetroddenonsocruelly,gottobesoprecioustome-Ohsopriceless,anddear!-thatIcouldn’tbeartothinkhowmuchIhadwronged them; and I said, and say again a hundred times, how could Ieverbehaveso,’Dolphus,howcouldIeverhavethehearttodoit!”

Thegoodwoman,quitecarriedawaybyherhonest tendernessand remorse,wasweepingwith all herheart,when she startedupwith a scream, and ranbehind her husband.Her crywas so terrified, that the children started fromtheirsleepandfromtheirbeds,andclungabouther.Nordidhergazebeliehervoice,as shepointed toapaleman inablackcloakwhohadcome into theroom.

“Lookatthatman!Lookthere!Whatdoeshewant?”

“Mydear,”returnedherhusband,“I’llaskhimifyou’llletmego.What’sthematter!Howyoushake!”

“Isawhiminthestreet,whenIwasoutjustnow.Helookedatme,andstoodnearme.Iamafraidofhim.”

“Afraidofhim!Why?”

“Idon’tknowwhy-I-stop!husband!”forhewasgoingtowardsthestranger.

She had one hand pressed upon her forehead, and one upon her breast; andtherewasapeculiarflutteringalloverher,andahurriedunsteadymotionofhereyes,asifshehadlostsomething.

“Areyouill,mydear?”

“Whatisitthatisgoingfrommeagain?”shemuttered,inalowvoice.“What

isthisthatisgoingaway?”

Then she abruptly answered: “Ill? No, I am quite well,” and stood lookingvacantlyatthefloor.

Herhusband,whohadnotbeenaltogetherfreefromtheinfectionofherfearatfirst,andwhomthepresentstrangenessofhermannerdidnottendtoreassure,addressedhimself to thepalevisitor in theblackcloak,who stood still, andwhoseeyeswerebentupontheground.

“Whatmaybeyourpleasure,sir,”heasked,“withus?”

“Ifearthatmycominginunperceived,”returnedthevisitor,“hasalarmedyou;butyouweretalkinganddidnothearme.”

“Mylittlewomansays-perhapsyouheardhersayit,”returnedMr.Tetterby,“thatit’snotthefirsttimeyouhavealarmedherto-night.”

“Iamsorryforit.Iremembertohaveobservedher,forafewmomentsonly,inthestreet.Ihadnointentionoffrighteningher.”

Asheraisedhiseyesinspeaking,sheraisedhers.Itwasextraordinarytoseewhatdreadshehadofhim,andwithwhatdreadheobservedit-andyethownarrowlyandclosely.

“Myname,”hesaid,“isRedlaw.Icomefromtheoldcollegehardby.Ayounggentlemanwhoisastudentthere,lodgesinyourhouse,doeshenot?”

“Mr.Denham?”saidTetterby.

“Yes.”

Itwasanaturalaction,andsoslightas tobehardlynoticeable;but thelittleman,beforespeakingagain,passedhishandacrosshisforehead,andlookedquickly round the room, as though he were sensible of some change in itsatmosphere.TheChemist, instantly transferring to him the lookof dreadhehaddirectedtowardsthewife,steppedback,andhisfaceturnedpaler.

“The gentleman’s room,” said Tetterby, “is upstairs, sir. There’s a more

convenientprivateentrance;butasyouhavecome inhere, itwill saveyourgoing out into the cold, if you’ll take this little staircase,” showing onecommunicatingdirectlywith theparlour,“andgoup tohimthatway, ifyouwishtoseehim.”

“Yes,Iwishtoseehim,”saidtheChemist.“Canyousparealight?”

The watchfulness of his haggard look, and the inexplicable distrust thatdarkenedit,seemedtotroubleMr.Tetterby.Hepaused;andlookingfixedlyathiminreturn,stoodforaminuteorso,likeamanstupefied,orfascinated.

Atlengthhesaid,“I’lllightyou,sir,ifyou’llfollowme.”

“No,”repliedtheChemist,“Idon’twishtobeattended,orannouncedtohim.Hedoesnotexpectme.Iwouldrathergoalone.Pleasetogivemethelight,ifyoucanspareit,andI’llfindtheway.”

Inthequicknessofhisexpressionofthisdesire,andintakingthecandlefromthe newsman, he touched him on the breast.Withdrawing his hand hastily,almost as though he hadwounded himby accident (for he did not know inwhatpartofhimselfhisnewpowerresided,orhowitwascommunicated,orhow themanner of its reception varied in different persons), he turned andascendedthestair.

But when he reached the top, he stopped and looked down. The wife wasstandinginthesameplace,twistingherringroundandrounduponherfinger.Thehusband,withhis headbent forwardonhis breast,wasmusingheavilyandsullenly.Thechildren,stillclusteringaboutthemother,gazedtimidlyafterthevisitor,andnestledtogetherwhentheysawhimlookingdown.

“Come!”saidthefather,roughly.“There’senoughofthis.Gettobedhere!”

“The place is inconvenient and small enough,” the mother added, “withoutyou.Gettobed!”

The whole brood, scared and sad, crept away; little Johnny and the babylagginglast.Themother,glancingcontemptuouslyroundthesordidroom,andtossingfromherthefragmentsoftheirmeal,stoppedonthethresholdofhertask of clearing the table, and sat down, pondering idly and dejectedly.The

fatherbetookhimselftothechimney-corner,andimpatientlyrakingthesmallfire together, bent over it as if he would monopolise it all. They did notinterchangeaword.

TheChemist,palerthanbefore,stoleupwardlikeathief; lookingbackuponthechangebelow,anddreadingequallytogoonorreturn.

“WhathaveIdone!”hesaid,confusedly.“WhatamIgoingtodo!”

“Tobethebenefactorofmankind,”hethoughtheheardavoicereply.

Helookedround,buttherewasnothingthere;andapassagenowshuttingoutthe littleparlour fromhisview,hewenton,directinghiseyesbeforehimatthewayhewent.

“Itisonlysincelastnight,”hemutteredgloomily,“thatIhaveremainedshutup,andyetallthingsarestrangetome.Iamstrangetomyself.Iamhere,asinadream.WhatinteresthaveIinthisplace,orinanyplacethatIcanbringtomyremembrance?Mymindisgoingblind!”

Therewasadoorbeforehim,andheknockedatit.Beinginvited,byavoicewithin,toenter,hecomplied.

“Isthatmykindnurse?”saidthevoice.“ButIneednotaskher.Thereisnooneelsetocomehere.”

It spokecheerfully, though ina languid tone,andattractedhisattention toayoungmanlyingonacouch,drawnbeforethechimney-piece,withthebacktowards the door.Ameagre scanty stove, pinched and hollowed like a sickman’s cheeks, and bricked into the centre of a hearth that it could scarcelywarm, contained the fire, to which his face was turned. Being so near thewindyhouse-top, itwastedquickly, andwith abusy sound, and theburningashesdroppeddownfast.

“They chink when they shoot out here,” said the student, smiling, “so,accordingto thegossips, theyarenotcoffins,butpurses.Ishallbewellandrichyet,someday,ifitpleaseGod,andshallliveperhapstoloveadaughterMilly, in remembrance of the kindest nature and the gentlest heart in theworld.”

Heputuphishandasifexpectinghertotakeit,but,beingweakened,helaystill,withhisfacerestingonhisotherhand,anddidnotturnround.

TheChemistglancedabouttheroom;-atthestudent’sbooksandpapers,pileduponatableinacorner,wherethey,andhisextinguishedreading-lamp,nowprohibitedandputaway,toldoftheattentivehoursthathadgonebeforethisillness,andperhapscausedit;-atsuchsignsofhisoldhealthandfreedom,astheout-of-doorattire thathung idleon thewall; -at those remembrancesofother and less solitary scenes, the littleminiatures upon the chimney-piece,and thedrawingofhome; - at that tokenofhisemulation,perhaps, in somesort, of his personal attachment too, the framed engraving of himself, thelooker-on.Thetimehadbeen,onlyyesterday,whennotoneoftheseobjects,initsremotestassociationofinterestwiththelivingfigurebeforehim,wouldhavebeenlostonRedlaw.Now,theywerebutobjects;or,ifanygleamofsuchconnexionshotuponhim,itperplexed,andnotenlightenedhim,ashestoodlookingroundwithadullwonder.

The student, recalling the thinhandwhichhad remained so longuntouched,raisedhimselfonthecouch,andturnedhishead.

“Mr.Redlaw!”heexclaimed,andstartedup.

Redlawputouthisarm.

“Don’tcomenearertome.Iwillsithere.Remainyou,whereyouare!”

Hesatdownonachairnear thedoor,andhavingglancedat theyoungmanstanding leaningwithhis handupon the couch, spokewithhis eyes avertedtowardstheground.

“Iheard,byanaccident,bywhataccident isnomatter, thatoneofmyclasswasillandsolitary.Ireceivednootherdescriptionofhim,thanthathelivedinthisstreet.Beginningmyinquiriesatthefirsthouseinit,Ihavefoundhim.”

“Ihavebeenill,sir,”returnedthestudent,notmerelywithamodesthesitation,butwithakindofaweofhim,“butamgreatlybetter.Anattackoffever-ofthebrain,Ibelieve-hasweakenedme,butIammuchbetter. IcannotsayIhavebeensolitary,inmyillness,orIshouldforgettheministeringhandthat

hasbeennearme.”

“Youarespeakingofthekeeper’swife,”saidRedlaw.

“Yes.”Thestudentbenthishead,asifherenderedhersomesilenthomage.

TheChemist,inwhomtherewasacold,monotonousapathy,whichrenderedhimmorelikeamarbleimageonthetombofthemanwhohadstartedfromhis dinner yesterday at the first mention of this student’s case, than thebreathing man himself, glanced again at the student leaning with his handuponthecouch,andlookedupontheground,andintheair,asifforlightforhisblindedmind.

“I remembered your name,” he said, “when it was mentioned to me downstairs,justnow;andIrecollectyourface.Wehaveheldbutverylittlepersonalcommunicationtogether?”

“Verylittle.”

“Youhaveretiredandwithdrawnfromme,morethananyoftherest,Ithink?”

Thestudentsignifiedassent.

“Andwhy?” said theChemist; notwith the least expression of interest, butwithamoody,waywardkindofcuriosity.“Why?Howcomesitthatyouhavesoughttokeepespeciallyfromme,theknowledgeofyourremaininghere,atthisseason,whenalltheresthavedispersed,andofyourbeingill?Iwanttoknowwhythisis?”

The young man, who had heard him with increasing agitation, raised hisdowncasteyestohisface,andclaspinghishandstogether,criedwithsuddenearnestnessandwithtremblinglips:

“Mr.Redlaw!Youhavediscoveredme.Youknowmysecret!”

“Secret?”saidtheChemist,harshly.“Iknow?”

“Yes!Yourmanner,sodifferentfromtheinterestandsympathywhichendearyoutosomanyhearts,youralteredvoice,theconstraintthereisineverything

yousay,andinyourlooks,”repliedthestudent,“warnmethatyouknowme.Thatyouwouldconcealit,evennow,isbutaprooftome(GodknowsIneednone!)ofyournaturalkindnessandofthebarthereisbetweenus.”

Avacantandcontemptuouslaugh,wasallhisanswer.

“But,Mr.Redlaw,” said the student, “as a justman, and a goodman, thinkhowinnocentIam,exceptinnameanddescent,ofparticipationinanywronginflictedonyouorinanysorrowyouhaveborne.”

“Sorrow!”saidRedlaw,laughing.“Wrong!Whatarethosetome?”

“For Heaven’s sake,” entreated the shrinking student, “do not let the mereinterchange of a fewwordswithme change you like this, sir! Letme passagain fromyourknowledgeandnotice.Letmeoccupymyold reservedanddistantplaceamong thosewhomyou instruct.Knowmeonlyby thenameIhaveassumed,andnotbythatofLongford-”

“Longford!”exclaimedtheother.

Heclaspedhisheadwithbothhishands,and foramoment turnedupon theyoungmanhisownintelligentandthoughtfulface.Butthelightpassedfromit,likethesun-beamofaninstant,anditcloudedasbefore.

“Thenamemymotherbears,sir,”falteredtheyoungman,“thenameshetook,when she might, perhaps, have taken one more honoured. Mr. Redlaw,”hesitating, “I believe I know that history.Where my information halts, myguessesatwhatiswantingmaysupplysomethingnotremotefromthetruth.Iamthechildofamarriagethathasnotproveditselfawell-assortedorahappyone.Frominfancy,Ihaveheardyouspokenofwithhonourandrespect-withsomethingthatwasalmostreverence.Ihaveheardofsuchdevotion,ofsuchfortitudeand tenderness,of such risingupagainst theobstacleswhichpressmendown,thatmyfancy,sinceIlearntmylittlelessonfrommymother,hasshedalustreonyourname.Atlast,apoorstudentmyself,fromwhomcouldIlearnbutyou?”

Redlaw, unmoved, unchanged, and looking at him with a staring frown,answeredbynowordorsign.

“Icannotsay,”pursuedtheother,“Ishouldtryinvaintosay,howmuchithasimpressedme,andaffectedme,tofindthegracioustracesofthepast,inthatcertainpowerofwinninggratitudeandconfidencewhichisassociatedamongus students (among the humblest of us, most) withMr. Redlaw’s generousname.Ouragesandpositionsaresodifferent,sir,andIamsoaccustomedtoregard you from a distance, that I wonder at my own presumption when Itouch,howeverlightly,onthattheme.Buttoonewho-Imaysay,whofeltnocommoninterest inmymotheronce-itmaybesomethingtohear,nowthatall is past, with what indescribable feelings of affection I have, in myobscurity,regardedhim;withwhatpainandreluctanceIhavekeptalooffromhisencouragement,whenawordof itwouldhavemademe rich;yethow Ihavefelt it fit that Ishouldholdmycourse,content toknowhim,and tobeunknown.Mr.Redlaw,” said the student, faintly, “what Iwouldhave said, Ihave said ill, for my strength is strange to me as yet; but for anythingunworthyinthisfraudofmine,forgiveme,andforalltherestforgetme!”

The staring frown remained on Redlaw’s face, and yielded to no otherexpressionuntilthestudent,withthesewords,advancedtowardshim,asiftotouchhishand,whenhedrewbackandcriedtohim:

“Don’tcomenearertome!”

Theyoungman stopped, shockedby the eagernessof his recoil, andby thesternness of his repulsion; and he passed his hand, thoughtfully, across hisforehead.

“Thepastispast,”saidtheChemist.“Itdieslikethebrutes.Whotalkstomeof its traces in my life? He raves or lies! What have I to do with yourdistempereddreams?Ifyouwantmoney,hereitis.Icametoofferit;andthatisallIcamefor.Therecanbenothingelsethatbringsmehere,”hemuttered,holdinghisheadagain,withbothhishands.“Therecanbenothingelse,andyet-”

Hehadtossedhispurseuponthetable.Ashefellintothisdimcogitationwithhimself,thestudenttookitup,andhelditouttohim.

“Takeitback,sir,”hesaidproudly,thoughnotangrily.“Iwishyoucouldtakefromme,withit,theremembranceofyourwordsandoffer.”

“Youdo?”heretorted,withawildlightinhiseyes.“Youdo?”

“Ido!”

The Chemist went close to him, for the first time, and took the purse, andturnedhimbythearm,andlookedhimintheface.

“Thereissorrowandtroubleinsickness, istherenot?”hedemanded,withalaugh.

Thewonderingstudentanswered,“Yes.”

“In its unrest, in its anxiety, in its suspense, in all its train of physical andmentalmiseries?”saidtheChemist,withawildunearthlyexultation.“Allbestforgotten,aretheynot?”

Thestudentdidnotanswer,butagainpassedhishand,confusedly,acrosshisforehead.Redlawstillheldhimbythesleeve,whenMilly’svoicewasheardoutside.

“Icanseeverywellnow,”shesaid,“thankyou,Dolf.Don’tcry,dear.Fatherand mother will be comfortable again, to-morrow, and home will becomfortabletoo.Agentlemanwithhim,isthere!”

Redlawreleasedhishold,ashelistened.

“Ihavefeared,fromthefirstmoment,”hemurmuredtohimself,“tomeether.Thereisasteadyqualityofgoodnessinher,thatIdreadtoinfluence.Imaybethemurdererofwhatistenderestandbestwithinherbosom.”

Shewasknockingatthedoor.

“Shall I dismiss it as an idle foreboding, or still avoid her?” he muttered,lookinguneasilyaround.

Shewasknockingatthedooragain.

“Ofallthevisitorswhocouldcomehere,”hesaid,inahoarsealarmedvoice,turningtohiscompanion,“thisistheoneIshoulddesiremosttoavoid.Hide

me!”

Thestudentopenedafraildoorinthewall,communicatingwherethegarret-roofbegantoslopetowardsthefloor,withasmallinnerroom.Redlawpassedinhastily,andshutitafterhim.

Thestudentthenresumedhisplaceuponthecouch,andcalledtohertoenter.

“DearMr. Edmund,” saidMilly, looking round, “they told me there was agentlemanhere.”

“ThereisnooneherebutI.”

“Therehasbeensomeone?”

“Yes,yes,therehasbeensomeone.”

Sheputherlittlebasketonthetable,andwentuptothebackofthecouch,asif to take the extendedhand - but itwas not there.A little surprised, in herquietway,sheleanedovertolookathisface,andgentlytouchedhimonthebrow.

“Areyouquiteaswellto-night?Yourheadisnotsocoolasintheafternoon.”

“Tut!”saidthestudent,petulantly,“verylittleailsme.”

A little more surprise, but no reproach, was expressed in her face, as shewithdrewtotheothersideofthetable,andtookasmallpacketofneedleworkfromher basket.But she laid it down again, on second thoughts, andgoingnoiselessly about the room, set everything exactly in its place, and in theneatestorder;even to thecushionson thecouch,whichshe touchedwithsolightahand, thathehardlyseemed toknow it,ashe lay lookingat the fire.Whenall thiswasdone, and shehad swept thehearth, she satdown, inhermodestlittlebonnet,toherwork,andwasquietlybusyonitdirectly.

“It’s the new muslin curtain for the window, Mr. Edmund,” said Milly,stitchingawayasshetalked.“Itwilllookverycleanandnice,thoughitcostsverylittle,andwillsaveyoureyes, too,fromthelight.MyWilliamsaystheroomshouldnotbetoolightjustnow,whenyouarerecoveringsowell,orthe

glaremightmakeyougiddy.”

He said nothing; but there was something so fretful and impatient in hischange of position, that her quick fingers stopped, and she looked at himanxiously.

“Thepillowsarenotcomfortable,”shesaid,layingdownherworkandrising.“Iwillsoonputthemright.”

“They are verywell,” he answered. “Leave them alone, pray.Youmake somuchofeverything.”

Heraisedhisheadtosaythis,andlookedathersothanklessly,that,afterhehad thrown himself down again, she stood timidly pausing. However, sheresumedherseat,andherneedle,withouthavingdirectedevenamurmuringlooktowardshim,andwassoonasbusyasbefore.

“Ihavebeenthinking,Mr.Edmund,thatyouhavebeenoftenthinkingoflate,whenIhavebeensittingby,howtrue thesaying is, thatadversity isagoodteacher.Healthwillbemoreprecioustoyou,afterthisillness,thanithaseverbeen. And years hence, when this time of year comes round, and yourememberthedayswhenyoulayheresick,alone,thattheknowledgeofyourillness might not afflict those who are dearest to you, your home will bedoublydearanddoublyblest.Now,isn’tthatagood,truething?”

Shewas too intentuponherwork,and tooearnest inwhatshesaid,and toocomposedandquietaltogether,tobeonthewatchforanylookhemightdirecttowardsher in reply; so the shaftofhisungratefulglance fellharmless, anddidnotwoundher.

“Ah!”saidMilly,withherprettyhead inclining thoughtfullyononeside,asshelookeddown,followingherbusyfingerswithhereyes.“Evenonme-andIamverydifferentfromyou,Mr.Edmund,forIhavenolearning,anddon’tknow how to think properly - this view of such things has made a greatimpression,sinceyouhavebeenlyingill.WhenIhaveseenyousotouchedbythekindnessandattentionofthepoorpeopledownstairs,Ihavefeltthatyouthoughteventhatexperiencesomerepaymentforthelossofhealth,andIhaveread inyour face,asplainas if itwasabook, thatbut forsome troubleandsorrowweshouldneverknowhalfthegoodthereisaboutus.”

His getting up from the couch, interrupted her, or shewas going on to saymore.

“Weneedn’tmagnify themerit,Mrs.William,”herejoinedslightingly.“Thepeople down stairswill be paid in good time I dare say, for any little extraservicetheymayhaverenderedme;andperhapstheyanticipatenoless.Iammuchobligedtoyou,too.”

Herfingersstopped,andshelookedathim.

“Ican’tbemadetofeelthemoreobligedbyyourexaggeratingthecase,”hesaid.“Iamsensiblethatyouhavebeeninterestedinme,andIsayIammuchobligedtoyou.Whatmorewouldyouhave?”

Herworkfellonherlap,asshestilllookedathimwalkingtoandfrowithanintolerantair,andstoppingnowandthen.

“Isayagain,Iammuchobligedtoyou.Whyweakenmysenseofwhatisyourdue inobligation,bypreferringenormousclaimsuponme?Trouble,sorrow,affliction, adversity!Onemight suppose I had been dying a score of deathshere!”

“Do you believe,Mr. Edmund,” she asked, rising and going nearer to him,“thatIspokeofthepoorpeopleofthehouse,withanyreferencetomyself?Tome?” laying her hand upon her bosomwith a simple and innocent smile ofastonishment.

“Oh!Ithinknothingaboutit,mygoodcreature,”hereturned.“Ihavehadanindisposition,whichyoursolicitude-observe!Isaysolicitude-makesagreatdealmoreof,thanitmerits;andit’sover,andwecan’tperpetuateit.”

Hecoldlytookabook,andsatdownatthetable.

Shewatchedhimfora littlewhile,untilhersmilewasquitegone,and then,returningtowhereherbasketwas,saidgently:

“Mr.Edmund,wouldyouratherbealone?”

“ThereisnoreasonwhyIshoulddetainyouhere,”hereplied.

“Except-”saidMilly,hesitating,andshowingherwork.

“Oh! thecurtain,”heanswered,withasupercilious laugh.“That’snotworthstayingfor.”

Shemadeup the littlepacketagain,andput it inherbasket.Then, standingbeforehimwith suchanairofpatient entreaty thathecouldnot choosebutlookather,shesaid:

“Ifyoushouldwantme,Iwillcomebackwillingly.Whenyoudidwantme,Iwasquitehappytocome;therewasnomeritinit.Ithinkyoumustbeafraid,that,nowyouaregettingwell,Imaybetroublesometoyou;butIshouldnothave been, indeed. I should have come no longer than your weakness andconfinementlasted.Youowemenothing;butitisrightthatyoushoulddealasjustlybymeasifIwasalady-eventheveryladythatyoulove;andifyoususpectmeofmeanlymakingmuchofthelittleIhavetriedtodotocomfortyoursickroom,youdoyourselfmorewrongthaneveryoucandome.ThatiswhyIamsorry.ThatiswhyIamverysorry.”

Ifshehadbeenaspassionateasshewasquiet,asindignantasshewascalm,as angry in her look as shewasgentle, as loudof tone as shewas lowandclear, shemight have left no sense of her departure in the room, comparedwiththatwhichfelluponthelonelystudentwhenshewentaway.

He was gazing drearily upon the place where she had been, when Redlawcameoutofhisconcealment,andcametothedoor.

“Whensicknesslaysitshandonyouagain,”hesaid,lookingfiercelybackathim,“-mayitbesoon!-Diehere!Rothere!”

“What have you done?” returned the other, catching at his cloak. “Whatchange have you wrought in me?What curse have you brought upon me?Givemebackmyself!”

“Givemebackmyself!”exclaimedRedlawlikeamadman.“Iaminfected!Iaminfectious!Iamchargedwithpoisonformyownmind,andthemindsofallmankind.Where I felt interest, compassion, sympathy, I am turning into

stone. Selfishness and ingratitude spring up inmy blighting footsteps. I amonlysomuchlessbasethanthewretcheswhomImakeso,thatinthemomentoftheirtransformationIcanhatethem.”

Ashespoke-theyoungmanstillholdingtohiscloak-hecasthimoff,andstruck him: then, wildly hurried out into the night air where the wind wasblowing, the snow falling, the cloud-drift sweeping on, the moon dimlyshining;andwhere,blowinginthewind,fallingwiththesnow,driftingwiththe clouds, shining in the moonlight, and heavily looming in the darkness,werethePhantom’swords,“Thegift thatIhavegiven,youshallgiveagain,gowhereyouwill!”

Whitherhewent,heneitherknewnorcared,sothatheavoidedcompany.Thechangehefeltwithinhimmadethebusystreetsadesert,andhimselfadesert,andthemultitudearoundhim,intheirmanifoldendurancesandwaysoflife,amightywaste of sand,which thewinds tossed into unintelligible heaps andmade a ruinous confusion of.Those traces in his breastwhich thePhantomhadtoldhimwould“dieoutsoon,”werenot,asyet,sofarupontheirwaytodeath, but that heunderstood enoughofwhathewas, andwhathemadeofothers,todesiretobealone.

Thisputitinhismind-hesuddenlybethoughthimself,ashewasgoingalong,of the boywho had rushed into his room. And then he recollected, that ofthosewithwhomhe had communicated since the Phantom’s disappearance,thatboyalonehadshownnosignofbeingchanged.

Monstrousandodiousasthewildthingwastohim,hedeterminedtoseekitout,andproveifthiswerereallyso;andalsotoseekitwithanotherintention,whichcameintohisthoughtsatthesametime.

So,resolvingwithsomedifficultywherehewas,hedirectedhisstepsbacktotheoldcollege,andtothatpartofitwherethegeneralporchwas,andwhere,alone,thepavementwaswornbythetreadofthestudents’feet.

Thekeeper’shousestoodjustwithintheirongates,formingapartofthechiefquadrangle.Therewasalittlecloisteroutside,andfromthatshelteredplaceheknewhecouldlookinatthewindowoftheirordinaryroom,andseewhowaswithin.Theirongateswereshut,buthishandwasfamiliarwiththefastening,and drawing it back by thrusting in his wrist between the bars, he passed

throughsoftly, shut it again,andcreptup to thewindow,crumbling the thincrustofsnowwithhisfeet.

Thefire,towhichhehaddirectedtheboylastnight,shiningbrightlythroughtheglass,madean illuminatedplaceupon theground. Instinctivelyavoidingthis,andgoingroundit,helookedinatthewindow.Atfirst,hethoughtthattherewasnoonethere,andthattheblazewasreddeningonlytheoldbeamsintheceilingandthedarkwalls;butpeeringinmorenarrowly,hesawtheobjectofhissearchcoiledasleepbeforeitonthefloor.Hepassedquicklytothedoor,openedit,andwentin.

Thecreaturelayinsuchafieryheat,that,astheChemiststoopedtorousehim,it scorched his head. So soon as he was touched, the boy, not half awake,clutchinghisragstogetherwiththeinstinctofflightuponhim,halfrolledandhalfranintoadistantcorneroftheroom,where,heapedupontheground,hestruckhisfootouttodefendhimself.

“Getup!”saidtheChemist.“Youhavenotforgottenme?”

“Youletmealone!”returnedtheboy.“Thisisthewoman’shouse-notyours.”

The Chemist’s steady eye controlled him somewhat, or inspired him withenoughsubmissiontoberaiseduponhisfeet,andlookedat.

“Who washed them, and put those bandages where they were bruised andcracked?”askedtheChemist,pointingtotheiralteredstate.

“Thewomandid.”

“Andisitshewhohasmadeyoucleanerintheface,too?”

“Yes,thewoman.”

Redlawaskedthesequestionstoattracthiseyestowardshimself,andwiththesameintentnowheldhimbythechin,andthrewhiswildhairback,thoughheloathed to touch him. The boywatched his eyes keenly, as if he thought itneedfultohisowndefence,notknowingwhathemightdonext;andRedlawcouldseewellthatnochangecameoverhim.

“Wherearethey?”heinquired.

“Thewoman’sout.”

“Iknowsheis.Whereistheoldmanwiththewhitehair,andhisson?”

“Thewoman’shusband,d’yemean?”inquiredtheboy.

“Ay.Wherearethosetwo?”

“Out.Something’s thematter,somewhere.Theywerefetchedout inahurry,andtoldmetostophere.”

“Comewithme,”saidtheChemist,“andI’llgiveyoumoney.”

“Comewhere?andhowmuchwillyougive?”

“I’llgiveyoumoreshillingsthanyoueversaw,andbringyoubacksoon.Doyouknowyourwaytowhereyoucamefrom?”

“Youletmego,”returnedtheboy,suddenlytwistingoutofhisgrasp.“I’mnotagoingtotakeyouthere.Letmebe,orI’llheavesomefireatyou!”

Hewas down before it, and ready,with his savage little hand, to pluck theburningcoalsout.

What theChemist had felt, in observing the effect of his charmed influencestealingoverthosewithwhomhecameincontact,wasnotnearlyequaltothecoldvague terrorwithwhichhe saw thisbaby-monsterput it at defiance. Itchilledhisbloodtolookontheimmovableimpenetrablething,inthelikenessofachild,withitssharpmalignantfaceturneduptohis,anditsalmostinfanthand,readyatthebars.

“Listen,boy!”hesaid.“Youshalltakemewhereyouplease,sothatyoutakemewhere the people are verymiserable or verywicked. Iwant to do themgood,andnottoharmthem.Youshallhavemoney,asIhavetoldyou,andIwillbringyouback.Getup!Comequickly!”Hemadeahasty step towardsthedoor,afraidofherreturning.

“Willyouletmewalkbymyself,andneverholdme,noryettouchme?”saidtheboy,slowlywithdrawingthehandwithwhichhethreatened,andbeginningtogetup.

“Iwill!”

“Andletmego,before,behind,oranywaysIlike?”

“Iwill!”

“Givemesomemoneyfirst,then,andgo.”

TheChemistlaidafewshillings,onebyone,inhisextendedhand.Tocountthemwas beyond the boy’s knowledge, but he said “one,” every time, andavariciouslylookedateachasitwasgiven,andatthedonor.Hehadnowheretoputthem,outofhishand,butinhismouth;andheputthemthere.

Redlawthenwrotewithhispencilonaleafofhispocket-book, that theboywaswithhim;andlayingitonthetable,signedtohimtofollow.Keepinghisragstogether,asusual,theboycomplied,andwentoutwithhisbareheadandnakedfeetintothewinternight.

Preferringnottodepartbytheirongatebywhichhehadentered,wheretheywereindangerofmeetingherwhomhesoanxiouslyavoided,theChemistledthe way, through some of those passages among which the boy had losthimself,andbythatportionofthebuildingwherehelived,toasmalldoorofwhich he had the key.When they got into the street, he stopped to ask hisguide-whoinstantlyretreatedfromhim-ifheknewwheretheywere.

The savage thing looked here and there, and at length, nodding his head,pointed in the direction he designed to take. Redlaw going on at once, hefollowed,somethinglesssuspiciously;shiftinghismoneyfromhismouthintohishand,andbackagainintohismouth,andstealthilyrubbingitbrightuponhisshredsofdress,ashewentalong.

Three times, in their progress, they were side by side. Three times theystopped,beingsidebyside.ThreetimestheChemistglanceddownathisface,andshudderedasitforceduponhimonereflection.

The first occasion was when they were crossing an old churchyard, andRedlawstoppedamongthegraves,utterlyatalosshowtoconnectthemwithanytender,softening,orconsolatorythought.

Thesecondwas,whenthebreakingforthofthemooninducedhimtolookupattheHeavens,wherehesawherinherglory,surroundedbyahostofstarshestillknewby thenamesandhistorieswhichhumansciencehasappended tothem;butwherehesawnothingelsehehadbeenwonttosee,feltnothinghehadbeenwonttofeel,inlookingupthere,onabrightnight.

The third was when he stopped to listen to a plaintive strain ofmusic, butcould only hear a tune,mademanifest to himby the drymechanismof theinstruments and his own ears, with no address to any mystery within him,withoutawhisperinitofthepast,orofthefuture,powerlessuponhimasthesoundoflastyear’srunningwater,ortherushingoflastyear’swind.

At each of these three times, he saw with horror that, in spite of the vastintellectual distance between them, and their being unlike each other in allphysicalrespects,theexpressionontheboy’sfacewastheexpressiononhisown.

Theyjourneyedonforsometime-nowthroughsuchcrowdedplaces,thatheoften looked over his shoulder thinking he had lost his guide, but generallyfindinghimwithinhisshadowonhisotherside;nowbywayssoquiet,thathecouldhavecountedhisshort,quick,nakedfootstepscomingonbehind-untiltheyarrivedat a ruinous collectionofhouses, and theboy touchedhimandstopped.

“Inthere!”hesaid,pointingoutonehousewheretherewereshatteredlightsinthe windows, and a dim lantern in the doorway, with “Lodgings forTravellers”paintedonit.

Redlaw lookedabouthim; from thehouses to thewastepieceofgroundonwhich thehousesstood,or ratherdidnotaltogether tumbledown,unfenced,undrained, unlighted, and bordered by a sluggish ditch; from that, to theslopinglineofarches,partofsomeneighbouringviaductorbridgewithwhichitwassurrounded,andwhich lessenedgradually towards them,until the lastbutonewasamerekennelforadog,thelastaplunderedlittleheapofbricks;fromthat,tothechild,closetohim,coweringandtremblingwiththecold,and

limpingononelittlefoot,whilehecoiledtheotherroundhislegtowarmit,yet staring at all these things with that frightful likeness of expression soapparentinhisface,thatRedlawstartedfromhim.

“Inthere!”saidtheboy,pointingoutthehouseagain.“I’llwait.”

“Willtheyletmein?”askedRedlaw.

“Sayyou’readoctor,”heansweredwithanod.“There’splentyillhere.”

Looking back on his way to the house-door, Redlaw saw him trail himselfuponthedustandcrawlwithintheshelterofthesmallestarch,asifhewerearat.Hehadnopityforthething,buthewasafraidofit;andwhenitlookedoutofitsdenathim,hehurriedtothehouseasaretreat.

“Sorrow,wrong,andtrouble,”saidtheChemist,withapainfuleffortatsomemore distinct remembrance, “at least haunt this place darkly. He can do noharm,whobringsforgetfulnessofsuchthingshere!”

Withthesewords,hepushedtheyieldingdoor,andwentin.

Therewasawomansittingonthestairs,eitherasleeporforlorn,whoseheadwasbent downonher hands andknees.As itwas not easy to passwithouttreadingonher,andasshewasperfectlyregardlessofhisnearapproach,hestopped,andtouchedherontheshoulder.Lookingup,sheshowedhimquiteayoungface,butonewhosebloomandpromisewereallsweptaway,asifthehaggardwintershouldunnaturallykillthespring.

Withlittleornoshowofconcernonhisaccount,shemovednearertothewalltoleavehimawiderpassage.

“Whatareyou?”saidRedlaw,pausing,withhishandupon thebrokenstair-rail.

“WhatdoyouthinkIam?”sheanswered,showinghimherfaceagain.

HelookedupontheruinedTempleofGod,solatelymade,sosoondisfigured;and something,whichwasnot compassion - for the springs inwhich a truecompassion for suchmiseries has its rise,were dried up in his breast - but

which was nearer to it, for the moment, than any feeling that had latelystruggledintothedarkening,butnotyetwhollydarkened,nightofhismind-mingledatouchofsoftnesswithhisnextwords.

“I amcomehere togive relief, if I can,”he said. “Areyou thinkingof anywrong?”

Shefrownedathim,andthenlaughed;andthenherlaughprolongeditselfintoashiveringsigh,asshedroppedherheadagain,andhidherfingersinherhair.

“Areyouthinkingofawrong?”heaskedoncemore.

“Iamthinkingofmylife,”shesaid,withamonetarylookathim.

Hehad a perception that shewasoneofmany, and that he saw the typeofthousands,whenhesawher,droopingathisfeet.

“Whatareyourparents?”hedemanded.

“Ihadagoodhomeonce.Myfatherwasagardener,faraway,inthecountry.”

“Ishedead?”

“He’sdeadtome.Allsuchthingsaredeadtome.Youagentleman,andnotknowthat!”Sheraisedhereyesagain,andlaughedathim.

“Girl!”saidRedlaw,sternly,“beforethisdeath,ofallsuchthings,wasbroughtabout,wastherenowrongdonetoyou?Inspiteofallthatyoucando,doesnoremembranceofwrongcleavetoyou?Aretherenottimesupontimeswhenitismiserytoyou?”

Solittleofwhatwaswomanlywasleftinherappearance,thatnow,whensheburst into tears, he stood amazed. But he was more amazed, and muchdisquieted, to note that in her awakened recollection of thiswrong, the firsttraceofheroldhumanityandfrozentendernessappearedtoshowitself.

Hedrewa littleoff,andindoingso,observedthatherarmswereblack,herfacecut,andherbosombruised.

“Whatbrutalhandhashurtyouso?”heasked.

“Myown.Ididitmyself!”sheansweredquickly.

“Itisimpossible.”

“I’llswearIdid!Hedidn’ttouchme.Ididittomyselfinapassion,andthrewmyselfdownhere.Hewasn’tnearme.Heneverlaidahanduponme!”

In thewhitedeterminationofher face,confrontinghimwith thisuntruth,hesaw enough of the last perversion and distortion of good surviving in thatmiserablebreast,tobestrickenwithremorsethathehadevercomenearher.

“Sorrow,wrong,andtrouble!”hemuttered,turninghisfearfulgazeaway.“Allthatconnectsherwiththestatefromwhichshehasfallen,hasthoseroots!InthenameofGod,letmegoby!”

Afraid to look at her again, afraid to touch her, afraid to think of havingsundered the last thread by which she held upon the mercy of Heaven, hegatheredhiscloakabouthim,andglidedswiftlyupthestairs.

Opposite to him, on the landing, was a door, which stood partly open, andwhich,asheascended,amanwithacandle inhishand,cameforwardfromwithintoshut.Butthisman,onseeinghim,drewback,withmuchemotioninhismanner,and,asifbyasuddenimpulse,mentionedhisnamealoud.

In the surprise of such a recognition there, he stopped, endeavouring torecollectthewanandstartledface.Hehadnotimetoconsiderit,for,tohisyetgreater amazement, old Philip came out of the room, and took him by thehand.

“Mr.Redlaw,”saidtheoldman,“thisislikeyou,thisislikeyou,sir!youhaveheardof it,andhavecomeafterus torenderanyhelpyoucan.Ah, toolate,toolate!”

Redlaw,withabewilderedlook,submittedtobeledintotheroom.Amanlaythere,onatruckle-bed,andWilliamSwidgerstoodatthebedside.

“Toolate!”murmuredtheoldman,lookingwistfullyintotheChemist’sface;

andthetearsstoledownhischeeks.

“That’swhatIsay,father,”interposedhissoninalowvoice.“That’swhereitis, exactly.Tokeepasquiet aseverwecanwhilehe’sadozing, is theonlythingtodo.You’reright,father!”

Redlaw paused at the bedside, and looked down on the figure that wasstretcheduponthemattress.Itwasthatofaman,whoshouldhavebeeninthevigour of his life, but onwhom itwas not likely the sunwould ever shineagain.Thevicesofhisfortyorfiftyyears’careerhadsobrandedhim,that,incomparisonwiththeireffectsuponhisface,theheavyhandofTimeupontheoldman’sfacewhowatchedhimhadbeenmercifulandbeautifying.

“Whoisthis?”askedtheChemist,lookinground.

“My sonGeorge,Mr. Redlaw,” said the oldman,wringing his hands. “Myeldestson,George,whowasmorehismother’spridethanalltherest!”

Redlaw’s eyes wandered from the oldman’s grey head, as he laid it downuponthebed,tothepersonwhohadrecognisedhim,andwhohadkeptaloof,intheremotestcorneroftheroom.Heseemedtobeabouthisownage;andalthoughheknewnosuchhopelessdecayandbrokenmanasheappearedtobe, therewas something in the turn of his figure, as he stoodwith his backtowards him, and now went out at the door, that made him pass his handuneasilyacrosshisbrow.

“William,”hesaidinagloomywhisper,“whoisthatman?”

“Why you see, sir,” returnedMr.William, “that’s what I say, myself.Whyshouldamanevergoandgamble,andthelikeofthat,andlethimselfdowninchbyinchtillhecan’tlethimselfdownanylower!”

“Hashe done so?” askedRedlaw, glancing after himwith the same uneasyactionasbefore.

“Just exactly that, sir,” returnedWilliamSwidger, “as I’m told.Heknowsalittleaboutmedicine,sir,itseems;andhavingbeenwayfaringtowardsLondonwithmy unhappy brother that you see here,”Mr.William passed his coat-sleeveacrosshiseyes,“andbeinglodgingupstairsforthenight-whatIsay,

yousee,isthatstrangecompanionscometogetherheresometimes-helookedin to attend upon him, and came for us at his request. What a mournfulspectacle,sir!Butthat’swhereitis.It’senoughtokillmyfather!”

Redlaw looked up, at these words, and, recalling where he was and withwhom,andthespellhecarriedwithhim-whichhissurprisehadobscured-retiredalittle,hurriedly,debatingwithhimselfwhethertoshunthehousethatmoment,orremain.

Yielding to a certain sullendoggedness,which it seemed tobe apart of hisconditiontostrugglewith,hearguedforremaining.

“Was it only yesterday,” he said, “when I observed thememory of this oldman to be a tissue of sorrow and trouble, and shall I be afraid, to-night, toshake it? Are such remembrances as I can drive away, so precious to thisdyingmanthatIneedfearforhim?No!I’llstayhere.”

But he stayed in fear and trembling none the less for these words; and,shroudedinhisblackcloakwithhisfaceturnedfromthem,stoodawayfromthebedside, listening towhat they said, as ifhe felthimself ademon in theplace.

“Father!”murmuredthesickman,rallyingalittlefromstupor.

“Myboy!MysonGeorge!”saidoldPhilip.

“Youspoke,justnow,ofmybeingmother’sfavourite,longago.It’sadreadfulthingtothinknow,oflongago!”

“No,no,no;”returnedtheoldman.“Thinkofit.Don’tsayit’sdreadful.It’snotdreadfultome,myson.”

“Itcutsyoutotheheart,father.”Fortheoldman’stearswerefallingonhim.

“Yes,yes,”saidPhilip,“soitdoes;butitdoesmegood.It’saheavysorrowtothinkofthattime,butitdoesmegood,George.Oh,thinkofittoo,thinkofittoo,andyourheartwillbesoftenedmoreandmore!Where’smysonWilliam?William,myboy,yourmotherlovedhimdearlytothelast,andwithherlatestbreathsaid,‘TellhimIforgavehim,blessedhim,andprayedforhim.’Those

wereherwordstome.Ihaveneverforgottenthem,andI’meighty-seven!”

“Father!”saidthemanuponthebed,“Iamdying,Iknow.Iamsofargone,thatIcanhardlyspeak,evenofwhatmymindmostrunson.Isthereanyhopeformebeyondthisbed?”

“Thereishope,”returnedtheoldman,“forallwhoaresoftenedandpenitent.Thereishopeforallsuch.Oh!”heexclaimed,claspinghishandsandlookingup,“Iwas thankful,onlyyesterday, that Icould remember thisunhappysonwhenhewas an innocent child.Butwhat a comfort it is, now, to think thatevenGodhimselfhasthatremembranceofhim!”

Redlawspreadhishandsuponhisface,andshrank,likeamurderer.

“Ah!”feeblymoanedthemanuponthebed.“Thewastesincethen,thewasteoflifesincethen!”

“Buthewasachildonce,”saidtheoldman.“Heplayedwithchildren.Beforehe lay down on his bed at night, and fell into his guiltless rest, he said hisprayers at his poormother’s knee. I have seen himdo it,many a time; andseenherlayhisheaduponherbreast,andkisshim.Sorrowfulasitwastoherandme, to think of this,when hewent sowrong, andwhen our hopes andplansforhimwereallbroken,thisgavehimstillaholduponus,thatnothingelsecouldhavegiven.Oh,Father,somuchbetterthanthefathersuponearth!Oh, Father, somuchmore afflicted by the errors of Thy children! take thiswandererback!Notasheis,butashewasthen,lethimcrytoThee,ashehassooftenseemedtocrytous!”

Astheoldmanlifteduphistremblinghands,theson,forwhomhemadethesupplication, laidhissinkingheadagainsthimforsupportandcomfort,as ifhewereindeedthechildofwhomhespoke.

Whendidmanever tremble,asRedlawtrembled, in thesilencethatensued!Heknewitmustcomeuponthem,knewthatitwascomingfast.

“My time isvery short,mybreath is shorter,” said the sickman, supportinghimself onone arm, andwith theothergroping in the air, “and I rememberthere is somethingonmymindconcerning themanwhowashere justnow,FatherandWilliam-wait!-istherereallyanythinginblack,outthere?”

“Yes,yes,itisreal,”saidhisagedfather.

“Isitaman?”

“WhatIsaymyself,George,”interposedhisbrother,bendingkindlyoverhim.“It’sMr.Redlaw.”

“IthoughtIhaddreamedofhim.Askhimtocomehere.”

TheChemist,whiterthanthedyingman,appearedbeforehim.Obedienttothemotionofhishand,hesatuponthebed.

“It has been so ripped up, to-night, sir,” said the sickman, laying his handupon his heart, with a look in which the mute, imploring agony of hiscondition was concentrated, “by the sight of my poor old father, and thethought of all the trouble I have been the cause of, and all the wrong andsorrowlyingatmydoor,that-”

Wasittheextremitytowhichhehadcome,orwasitthedawningofanotherchange,thatmadehimstop?

“-thatwhatIcandoright,withmymindrunningonsomuch,sofast,I’lltrytodo.Therewasanothermanhere.Didyouseehim?”

Redlawcouldnotreplybyanyword;forwhenhesawthatfatalsignheknewsowellnow,of thewanderinghandupon the forehead,hisvoicediedathislips.Buthemadesomeindicationofassent.

“Heispenniless,hungry,anddestitute.Heiscompletelybeatendown,andhasnoresourceatall.Lookafterhim!Losenotime!Iknowhehasitinhismindtokillhimself.”

It was working. It was on his face. His face was changing, hardening,deepeninginallitsshades,andlosingallitssorrow.

“Don’tyouremember?Don’tyouknowhim?”hepursued.

Heshuthisfaceoutforamoment,withthehandthatagainwanderedoverhis

forehead,andthenitloweredonRedlaw,reckless,ruffianly,andcallous.

“Why,d-nyou!”hesaid,scowlinground,“whathaveyoubeendoingtomehere!Ihavelivedbold,andImeantodiebold.TotheDevilwithyou!”

Andsolaydownuponhisbed,andputhisarmsup,overhisheadandears,asresolutefromthattimetokeepoutallaccess,andtodieinhisindifference.

IfRedlawhadbeenstruckbylightning,itcouldnothavestruckhimfromthebedsidewithamoretremendousshock.Buttheoldman,whohadleftthebedwhilehissonwasspeakingtohim,nowreturning,avoideditquicklylikewise,andwithabhorrence.

“Where’smyboyWilliam?”saidtheoldmanhurriedly.“William,comeawayfromhere.We’llgohome.”

“Home,father!”returnedWilliam.“Areyougoingtoleaveyourownson?”

“Where’smyownson?”repliedtheoldman.

“Where?why,there!”

“That’s no son of mine,” said Philip, trembling with resentment. “No suchwretchasthat,hasanyclaimonme.Mychildrenarepleasanttolookat,andtheywaituponme,andgetmymeatanddrink ready, andareuseful tome.I’vearighttoit!I’meighty-seven!”

“You’re old enough to be no older,” muttered William, looking at himgrudgingly,withhishands inhispockets.“Idon’tknowwhatgoodyouare,myself.Wecouldhaveadealmorepleasurewithoutyou.”

“Myson,Mr.Redlaw!”saidtheoldman.“Myson,too!Theboytalkingtomeofmyson!Why,whathasheeverdonetogivemeanypleasure,Ishouldliketoknow?”

“I don’t know what you have ever done to give me any pleasure,” saidWilliam,sulkily.

“Letme think,” said theoldman. “ForhowmanyChristmas times running,

haveIsatinmywarmplace,andneverhadtocomeoutinthecoldnightair;and have made good cheer, without being disturbed by any suchuncomfortable,wretchedsightashimthere?Isittwenty,William?”

“Nigherforty,itseems,”hemuttered.“Why,whenIlookatmyfather,sir,andcometothinkofit,”addressingRedlaw,withanimpatienceandirritationthatwerequitenew,“I’mwhippedifIcanseeanythinginhimbutacalendarofeversomanyyearsofeatinganddrinking,andmakinghimselfcomfortable,overandoveragain.”

“I-I’meighty-seven,”saidtheoldman,ramblingon,childishlyandweakly,“andIdon’tknowasIeverwasmuchputoutbyanything.I’mnotgoingtobegin now, because of what he calls my son. He’s not my son. I’ve had apowerofpleasant times. I recollectonce-noIdon’t -no, it’sbrokenoff. Itwassomethingaboutagameofcricketandafriendofmine,butit’ssomehowbrokenoff.Iwonderwhohewas-IsupposeIlikedhim?AndIwonderwhatbecame of him - I suppose he died? But I don’t know. And I don’t care,neither;Idon’tcareabit.”

Inhisdrowsychuckling,andtheshakingofhishead,heputhishandsintohiswaistcoatpockets.Inoneofthemhefoundabitofholly(leftthere,probablylastnight),whichhenowtookout,andlookedat.

“Berries, eh?” said the oldman. “Ah! It’s a pity they’re not good to eat. Irecollect,whenIwasalittlechapaboutashighasthat,andoutawalkingwith-letmesee-whowasIoutawalkingwith?-no,Idon’trememberhowthatwas.Idon’trememberasIeverwalkedwithanyoneparticular,orcaredforany one, or any one for me. Berries, eh? There’s good cheer when there’sberries.Well; I ought tohavemy shareof it, and tobewaitedon, andkeptwarmandcomfortable;forI’meighty-seven,andapooroldman.I’meigh-ty-seven.Eigh-ty-seven!”

Thedrivelling,pitiablemannerinwhich,asherepeatedthis,henibbledattheleaves, and spat the morsels out; the cold, uninterested eye with which hisyoungest son (so changed) regardedhim; thedetermined apathywithwhichhis eldest son lay hardened in his sin; impressed themselves no more onRedlaw’sobservation,-forhebrokehiswayfromthespottowhichhisfeetseemedtohavebeenfixed,andranoutofthehouse.

Hisguidecamecrawlingforthfromhisplaceofrefuge,andwasreadyforhimbeforehereachedthearches.

“Backtothewoman’s?”heinquired.

“Back,quickly!”answeredRedlaw.“Stopnowhereontheway!”

Forashortdistancetheboywentonbefore;buttheirreturnwasmorelikeaflightthanawalk,anditwasasmuchashisbarefeetcoulddo,tokeeppacewiththeChemist’srapidstrides.Shrinkingfromallwhopassed,shroudedinhiscloak,andkeepingitdrawncloselyabouthim,asthoughthereweremortalcontagioninanyflutteringtouchofhisgarments,hemadenopauseuntiltheyreached thedoorbywhich theyhadcomeout.Heunlocked itwithhiskey,went in,accompaniedbytheboy,andhastenedthroughthedarkpassages tohisownchamber.

Theboywatchedhimashemadethedoorfast,andwithdrewbehindthetable,whenhelookedround.

“Come!”hesaid.“Don’tyoutouchme!You’venotbroughtmehere to takemymoneyaway.”

Redlaw threw some more upon the ground. He flung his body on itimmediately,asiftohideitfromhim,lestthesightofitshouldtempthimtoreclaimit;andnotuntilhesawhimseatedbyhislamp,withhisfacehiddeninhishands,beganfurtively topickitup.Whenhehaddoneso,hecreptnearthefire,and,sittingdowninagreatchairbeforeit,tookfromhisbreastsomebrokenscrapsof food,andfell tomunching,and tostaringat theblaze,andnow and then to glancing at his shillings, which he kept clenched up in abunch,inonehand.

“And this,”saidRedlaw,gazingonhimwith increasedrepugnanceandfear,“istheonlyonecompanionIhaveleftonearth!”

How long it was before he was aroused from his contemplation of thiscreature,whomhedreaded so -whether half-an-hour, or half the night - heknewnot.Butthestillnessoftheroomwasbrokenbytheboy(whomhehadseenlistening)startingup,andrunningtowardsthedoor.

“Here’sthewomancoming!”heexclaimed.

TheChemiststoppedhimonhisway,atthemomentwhensheknocked.

“Letmegotoher,willyou?”saidtheboy.

“Notnow,”returnedtheChemist.“Stayhere.Nobodymustpassinoroutoftheroomnow.Who’sthat?”

“It’sI,sir,”criedMilly.“Pray,sir,letmein!”

“No!notfortheworld!”hesaid.

“Mr.Redlaw,Mr.Redlaw,pray,sir,letmein.”

“Whatisthematter?”hesaid,holdingtheboy.

“Themiserablemanyousaw,isworse,andnothingIcansaywillwakehimfromhisterribleinfatuation.William’sfatherhasturnedchildishinamoment,Williamhimselfischanged.Theshockhasbeentoosuddenforhim;Icannotunderstandhim;heisnotlikehimself.Oh,Mr.Redlaw,prayadviseme,helpme!”

“No!No!No!”heanswered.

“Mr.Redlaw!Dearsir!Georgehasbeenmuttering,inhisdoze,aboutthemanyousawthere,who,hefears,willkillhimself.”

“Betterheshoulddoit,thancomenearme!”

“Hesays,inhiswandering,thatyouknowhim;thathewasyourfriendonce,longago;thatheistheruinedfatherofastudenthere-mymindmisgivesme,oftheyounggentlemanwhohasbeenill.Whatistobedone?Howishetobefollowed?Howishetobesaved?Mr.Redlaw,pray,oh,pray,adviseme!Helpme!”

Allthistimeheheldtheboy,whowashalf-madtopasshim,andletherin.

“Phantoms! Punishers of impious thoughts!” cried Redlaw, gazing round in

anguish,“lookuponme!Fromthedarknessofmymind,lettheglimmeringofcontritionthatIknowisthere,shineupandshowmymisery!Inthematerialworld as I have long taught, nothing can be spared; no step or atom in thewondrous structure could be lost, without a blank being made in the greatuniverse. Iknow,now, that it is thesamewithgoodandevil,happinessandsorrow,inthememoriesofmen.Pityme!Relieveme!”

Therewasnoresponse,buther“Helpme,helpme,letmein!”andtheboy’sstrugglingtogettoher.

“Shadowofmyself!Spiritofmydarkerhours!”criedRedlaw,indistraction,“comeback,andhauntmedayandnight,buttakethisgiftaway!Or,ifitmuststill rest with me, deprive me of the dreadful power of giving it to others.Undo what I have done. Leave me benighted, but restore the day to thosewhom I have cursed. As I have spared thiswoman from the first, and as Ineverwillgoforthagain,butwilldiehere,withnohandtotendme,savethiscreature’swhoisproofagainstme,-hearme!”

Theonly reply stillwas, theboystruggling toget toher,whileheheldhimback; and the cry, increasing in its energy, “Help! let me in. He was yourfriendonce, how shall he be followed, how shall hebe saved?They are allchanged,thereisnooneelsetohelpme,pray,pray,letmein!”

CHAPTERIII-TheGiftReversed

Nightwasstillheavyinthesky.Onopenplains,fromhill-tops,andfromthedecksofsolitaryshipsatsea,adistantlow-lyingline,thatpromisedby-and-bytochangetolight,wasvisibleinthedimhorizon;butitspromisewasremote

anddoubtful,andthemoonwasstrivingwiththenight-cloudsbusily.

The shadows uponRedlaw’smind succeeded thick and fast to one another,and obscured its light as the night-clouds hovered between the moon andearth, and kept the latter veiled in darkness. Fitful and uncertain as theshadowswhichthenight-cloudscast,weretheirconcealmentsfromhim,andimperfectrevelationstohim;and,likethenight-cloudsstill, if theclearlightbrokeforthforamoment,itwasonlythattheymightsweepoverit,andmakethedarknessdeeperthanbefore.

Without, there was a profound and solemn hush upon the ancient pile ofbuilding,anditsbuttressesandanglesmadedarkshapesofmysteryupontheground, which now seemed to retire into the smooth white snow and nowseemedtocomeoutofit,asthemoon’spathwasmoreorlessbeset.Within,the Chemist’s room was indistinct and murky, by the light of the expiringlamp;aghostlysilencehadsucceededtotheknockingandthevoiceoutside;nothingwasaudiblebut,nowandthen,alowsoundamongthewhitenedashesofthefire,asofitsyieldingupitslastbreath.Beforeitonthegroundtheboylay fast asleep. In his chair, the Chemist sat, as he had sat there since thecallingathisdoorhadceased-likeamanturnedtostone.

Atsucha time, theChristmasmusichehadheardbefore,began toplay.Helistened to itat first,ashehad listened in thechurch-yard;butpresently - itplaying still, andbeingborne towardshimon thenight air, in a low, sweet,melancholy strain - he rose, and stood stretching his hands about him, as iftherewere some friend approachingwithinhis reach, onwhomhis desolatetouchmight rest,yetdonoharm.Ashedid this,his facebecame less fixedandwondering;agentletremblingcameuponhim;andatlasthiseyesfilledwithtears,andheputhishandsbeforethem,andboweddownhishead.

Hismemory of sorrow, wrong, and trouble, had not come back to him; heknewthatitwasnotrestored;hehadnopassingbelieforhopethatitwas.Butsomedumbstirwithinhimmadehimcapable,again,ofbeingmovedbywhatwashidden,afaroff,inthemusic.Ifitwereonlythatittoldhimsorrowfullythe value of what he had lost, he thanked Heaven for it with a ferventgratitude.

Asthelastchorddieduponhisear,heraisedhisheadtolistentoitslingeringvibration. Beyond the boy, so that his sleeping figure lay at its feet, the

Phantomstood,immovableandsilent,withitseyesuponhim.

Ghastlyitwas,asithadeverbeen,butnotsocruelandrelentlessinitsaspect-orhethoughtorhopedso,ashelookeduponittrembling.Itwasnotalone,butinitsshadowyhanditheldanotherhand.

Andwhosewasthat?WastheformthatstoodbesideitindeedMilly’s,orbuthershadeandpicture?Thequietheadwasbentalittle,ashermannerwas,andhereyeswerelookingdown,asifinpity,onthesleepingchild.Aradiantlightfellonherface,butdidnottouchthePhantom;for,thoughclosebesideher,itwasdarkandcolourlessasever.

“Spectre!” said theChemist, newly troubled as he looked, “I have not beenstubbornorpresumptuousinrespectofher.Oh,donotbringherhere.Sparemethat!”

“Thisisbutashadow,”saidthePhantom;“whenthemorningshinesseekouttherealitywhoseimageIpresentbeforeyou.”

“Isitmyinexorabledoomtodoso?”criedtheChemist.

“Itis,”repliedthePhantom.

“Todestroyherpeace,hergoodness;tomakeherwhatIammyself,andwhatIhavemadeofothers!”

“Ihavesaidseekherout,”returnedthePhantom.“Ihavesaidnomore.”

“Oh,tellme,”exclaimedRedlaw,catchingatthehopewhichhefanciedmightliehiddeninthewords.“CanIundowhatIhavedone?”

“No,”returnedthePhantom.

“I donot ask for restoration tomyself,” saidRedlaw. “What I abandoned, Iabandonedofmyownfreewill,andhavejustlylost.ButforthosetowhomIhavetransferredthefatalgift;whoneversoughtit;whounknowinglyreceivedacurseofwhichtheyhadnowarning,andwhichtheyhadnopowertoshun;canIdonothing?”

“Nothing,”saidthePhantom.

“IfIcannot,cananyone?”

ThePhantom,standinglikeastatue,keptitsgazeuponhimforawhile;thenturneditsheadsuddenly,andlookedupontheshadowatitsside.

“Ah!Canshe?”criedRedlaw,stilllookingupontheshade.

ThePhantom released thehand ithad retained till now,and softly raised itsownwith a gesture of dismissal.Upon that, her shadow, still preserving thesameattitude,begantomoveormeltaway.

“Stay,”criedRedlawwithanearnestness towhichhecouldnotgiveenoughexpression.“Foramoment!Asanactofmercy!Iknowthatsomechangefelluponme,whenthosesoundswereintheairjustnow.Tellme,haveIlostthepowerofharmingher?MayIgonearherwithoutdread?Oh,lethergivemeanysignofhope!”

The Phantom looked upon the shade as he did - not at him - and gave noanswer.

“Atleast,saythis-hasshe,henceforth,theconsciousnessofanypowertosetrightwhatIhavedone?”

“Shehasnot,”thePhantomanswered.

“Hasshethepowerbestowedonherwithouttheconsciousness?”

Thephantomanswered:“Seekherout.”

Andhershadowslowlyvanished.

They were face to face again, and looking on each other, as intently andawfullyasatthetimeofthebestowalofthegift,acrosstheboywhostilllayonthegroundbetweenthem,atthePhantom’sfeet.

“Terrible instructor,” said the Chemist, sinking on his knee before it, in anattitude of supplication, “by whom I was renounced, but by whom I am

revisited(inwhich,andinwhosemilderaspect,IwouldfainbelieveIhaveagleamofhope),Iwillobeywithoutinquiry,prayingthatthecryIhavesentupintheanguishofmysoulhasbeen,orwillbe,heard,inbehalfofthosewhomIhaveinjuredbeyondhumanreparation.Butthereisonething-”

“Youspeaktomeofwhatislyinghere,”thephantominterposed,andpointedwithitsfingertotheboy.

“Ido,”returnedtheChemist.“YouknowwhatIwouldask.Whyhasthischildalonebeenproof againstmy influence, andwhy,why,have Idetected in itsthoughtsaterriblecompanionshipwithmine?”

“This,” said the Phantom, pointing to the boy, “is the last, completestillustrationofahumancreature,utterlybereftof such remembrancesasyouhave yielded up. No softeningmemory of sorrow, wrong, or trouble entershere, because this wretchedmortal from his birth has been abandoned to aworse condition than the beasts, and has, within his knowledge, no onecontrast,nohumanisingtouch,tomakeagrainofsuchamemoryspringupinhishardenedbreast.Allwithinthisdesolatecreatureisbarrenwilderness.Allwithin the man bereft of what you have resigned, is the same barrenwilderness.Woetosuchaman!Woe,tenfold,tothenationthatshallcountitsmonsterssuchasthis,lyinghere,byhundredsandbythousands!”

Redlawshrank,appalled,fromwhatheheard.

“Thereisnot,”saidthePhantom,“oneofthese-notone-butsowsaharvestthatmankindMUSTreap.Fromeveryseedofevilinthisboy,afieldofruinisgrown that shall be gathered in, and garnered up, and sown again inmanyplaces in theworld,until regionsareoverspreadwithwickednessenough toraise thewatersof anotherDeluge.Openandunpunishedmurder in a city’sstreetswouldbelessguilty in itsdaily toleration, thanonesuchspectacleasthis.”

Itseemedtolookdownupontheboyinhissleep.Redlaw,too,lookeddownuponhimwithanewemotion.

“There isnota father,”said thePhantom,“bywhoseside inhisdailyorhisnightlywalk,thesecreaturespass;thereisnotamotheramongalltheranksoflovingmothersinthisland;thereisnoonerisenfromthestateofchildhood,

butshallberesponsibleinhisorherdegreefor thisenormity.Thereisnotacountrythroughouttheearthonwhichitwouldnotbringacurse.Thereisnoreligion upon earth that itwould not deny; there is no people upon earth itwouldnotputtoshame.”

TheChemistclaspedhishands,andlooked,withtremblingfearandpity,fromthesleepingboytothePhantom,standingabovehimwithhisfingerpointingdown.

“Behold, I say,” pursued the Spectre, “the perfect type ofwhat it was yourchoice to be. Your influence is powerless here, because from this child’sbosom you can banish nothing. His thoughts have been in ‘terriblecompanionship’ with yours, because you have gone down to his unnaturallevel. He is the growth ofman’s indifference; you are the growth ofman’spresumption.Thebeneficent designofHeaven is, in each case, overthrown,andfromthetwopolesoftheimmaterialworldyoucometogether.”

TheChemiststoopeduponthegroundbesidetheboy,and,withthesamekindofcompassionforhimthathenowfeltforhimself,coveredhimasheslept,andnolongershrankfromhimwithabhorrenceorindifference.

Soon,now,thedistantlineonthehorizonbrightened,thedarknessfaded,thesun rose red andglorious, and the chimney stacks andgablesof the ancientbuildinggleamed in theclearair,which turned thesmokeandvapourof thecityintoacloudofgold.Theverysun-dialinhisshadycorner,wherethewindwasusedtospinwithsuchunwindyconstancy,shookoffthefinerparticlesofsnowthathadaccumulatedonhisdulloldfaceinthenight,andlookedoutatthe littlewhitewreathseddying roundand roundhim.Doubtlesssomeblindgropingofthemorningmadeitswaydownintotheforgottencryptsocoldandearthy,where theNormanarcheswerehalfburied in theground,andstirredthe dull sap in the lazy vegetation hanging to thewalls, and quickened theslowprincipleoflifewithinthelittleworldofwonderfulanddelicatecreationwhichexistedthere,withsomefaintknowledgethatthesunwasup.

TheTetterbyswereup,anddoing.Mr.Tetterbytookdowntheshuttersoftheshop,and,stripbystrip,revealedthetreasuresofthewindowtotheeyes,soproofagainsttheirseductions,ofJerusalemBuildings.Adolphushadbeenoutso long already, that he was halfway on to “Morning Pepper.” Five smallTetterbys, whose ten round eyes weremuch inflamed by soap and friction,

were in the tortures of a cool wash in the back kitchen; Mrs. Tetterbypresiding. Johnny,whowaspushedandhustled throughhis toiletwithgreatrapiditywhenMolochchancedtobeinanexactingframeofmind(whichwasalwaysthecase),staggeredupanddownwithhischargebeforetheshopdoor,under greater difficulties than usual; the weight of Moloch being muchincreasedbyacomplicationofdefencesagainstthecold,composedofknittedworsted-work,andformingacompletesuitofchain-armour,withahead-pieceandbluegaiters.

Itwasapeculiarityofthisbabytobealwayscuttingteeth.Whethertheynevercame,orwhether theycameandwentawayagain, isnot inevidence;but ithad certainly cut enough, on the showing of Mrs. Tetterby, to make ahandsome dental provision for the sign of theBull andMouth.All sorts ofobjects were impressed for the rubbing of its gums, notwithstanding that italwayscarried,danglingatitswaist(whichwasimmediatelyunderitschin),abonering,largeenoughtohaverepresentedtherosaryofayoungnun.Knife-handles, umbrella-tops, the heads ofwalking-sticks selected from the stock,thefingersofthefamilyingeneral,butespeciallyofJohnny,nutmeg-graters,crusts, thehandlesofdoors, and thecoolknobson the topsofpokers,wereamong the commonest instruments indiscriminately applied for this baby’srelief. The amount of electricity that must have been rubbed out of it in aweek, isnot tobecalculated.StillMrs.Tetterbyalwayssaid“itwascomingthrough, and then the child would be herself;” and still it never did comethrough,andthechildcontinuedtobesomebodyelse.

The tempersof the littleTetterbyshad sadly changedwith a fewhours.Mr.and Mrs. Tetterby themselves were not more altered than their offspring.Usually they were an unselfish, good-natured, yielding little race, sharingshort commonswhen it happened (whichwas pretty often) contentedly andevengenerously,andtakingagreatdealofenjoymentoutofaverylittlemeat.Buttheywerefightingnow,notonlyforthesoapandwater,butevenforthebreakfastwhichwasyetinperspective.ThehandofeverylittleTetterbywasagainsttheotherlittleTetterbys;andevenJohnny’shand-thepatient,much-enduring, and devoted Johnny - rose against the baby! Yes, Mrs. Tetterby,goingtothedoorbymereaccident,sawhimviciouslypickoutaweakplaceinthesuitofarmourwhereaslapwouldtell,andslapthatblessedchild.

Mrs.Tetterbyhadhimintotheparlourbythecollar,inthatsameflashoftime,andrepaidhimtheassaultwithusurythereto.

“Youbrute,youmurderinglittleboy,”saidMrs.Tetterby.“Hadyouthehearttodoit?”

“Why don’t her teeth come through, then,” retorted Johnny, in a loudrebelliousvoice,“insteadofbotheringme?Howwouldyoulikeityourself?”

“Likeit,sir!”saidMrs.Tetterby,relievinghimofhisdishonouredload.

“Yes,likeit,”saidJohnny.“Howwouldyou?Notatall.Ifyouwasme,you’dgoforasoldier.Iwill,too.Therean’tnobabiesintheArmy.”

Mr. Tetterby, who had arrived upon the scene of action, rubbed his chinthoughtfully,insteadofcorrectingtherebel,andseemedratherstruckbythisviewofamilitarylife.

“I wish I was in the Army myself, if the child’s in the right,” said Mrs.Tetterby,lookingatherhusband,“forIhavenopeaceofmylifehere.I’maslave-aVirginiaslave:”someindistinctassociationwiththeirweakdescenton the tobacco trade perhaps suggested this aggravated expression to Mrs.Tetterby. “I never have a holiday, or any pleasure at all, fromyear’s end toyear’send!Why,Lordblessandsavethechild,”saidMrs.Tetterby,shakingthebabywithanirritabilityhardlysuitedtosopiousanaspiration,“what’sthematterwithhernow?”

Not being able to discover, and not rendering the subject much clearer byshakingit,Mrs.Tetterbyputthebabyawayinacradle,and,foldingherarms,satrockingitangrilywithherfoot.

“Howyou stand there, ’Dolphus,” saidMrs.Tetterby toher husband. “Whydon’tyoudosomething?”

“BecauseIdon’tcareaboutdoinganything,”Mr.Tetterbyreplied.

“IamsureIdon’t,”saidMrs.Tetterby.

“I’lltakemyoathIdon’t,”saidMr.Tetterby.

AdiversionarosehereamongJohnnyandhisfiveyoungerbrothers,who,in

preparing the family breakfast table, had fallen to skirmishing for thetemporarypossessionof the loaf, andwerebuffetingone anotherwithgreatheartiness;thesmallestboyofall,withprecociousdiscretion,hoveringoutsidetheknotofcombatants,andharassingtheirlegs.Intothemidstofthisfray,Mr.andMrs.Tetterbyboth precipitated themselveswith great ardour, as if suchgroundweretheonlygroundonwhichtheycouldnowagree;andhaving,withnovisibleremainsoftheirlatesoft-heartedness, laidaboutthemwithoutanylenity,anddonemuchexecution,resumedtheirformerrelativepositions.

“Youhadbetterreadyourpaperthandonothingatall,”saidMrs.Tetterby.

“What’s there to read in a paper?” returned Mr. Tetterby, with excessivediscontent.

“What?”saidMrs.Tetterby.“Police.”

“It’s nothing tome,” said Tetterby. “What do I carewhat people do, or aredoneto?”

“Suicides,”suggestedMrs.Tetterby.

“Nobusinessofmine,”repliedherhusband.

“Births,deaths,andmarriages,arethosenothingtoyou?”saidMrs.Tetterby.

“Ifthebirthswerealloverforgood,andallto-day;andthedeathswerealltobegin to come off to-morrow; I don’t see why it should interest me, till Ithought itwas a coming tomy turn,” grumbled Tetterby. “As tomarriages,I’vedoneitmyself.Iknowquiteenoughaboutthem.”

To judge from the dissatisfied expression of her face and manner, Mrs.Tetterby appeared to entertain the same opinions as her husband; but sheopposedhim,nevertheless,forthegratificationofquarrellingwithhim.

“Oh,you’re a consistentman,” saidMrs.Tetterby, “an’t you?You,with thescreenofyourownmakingthere,madeofnothingelsebutbitsofnewspapers,whichyousitandreadtothechildrenbythehalf-hourtogether!”

“Sayusedto,ifyouplease,”returnedherhusband.“Youwon’tfindmedoing

soanymore.I’mwisernow.”

“Bah!wiser,indeed!”saidMrs.Tetterby.“Areyoubetter?”

The question sounded some discordant note in Mr. Tetterby’s breast. Heruminateddejectedly,andpassedhishandacrossandacrosshisforehead.

“Better!”murmuredMr. Tetterby. “I don’t know as any of us are better, orhappiereither.Better,isit?”

He turned to thescreen,and tracedabout itwithhis finger,untilhe foundacertainparagraphofwhichhewasinquest.

“Thisusedtobeoneofthefamilyfavourites,Irecollect,”saidTetterby,inaforlornandstupidway,“andusedtodrawtearsfromthechildren,andmake’emgood, if therewasany littlebickeringordiscontentamong’em,next tothestoryoftherobinredbreastsinthewood.‘Melancholycaseofdestitution.Yesterday a smallman,with a baby in his arms, and surrounded by half-a-dozen ragged littleones,ofvariousagesbetween tenand two, thewholeofwhomwere evidently in a famishing condition, appeared before theworthymagistrate, andmade the following recital:’ -Ha! I don’t understand it, I’msure,”saidTetterby;“Idon’tseewhatithasgottodowithus.”

“Howoldand shabbyhe looks,” saidMrs.Tetterby,watchinghim. “Ineversaw such a change in a man. Ah! dear me, dear me, dear me, it was asacrifice!”

“Whatwasasacrifice?”herhusbandsourlyinquired.

Mrs. Tetterby shook her head; and without replying in words, raised acompletesea-stormaboutthebaby,byherviolentagitationofthecradle.

“If you mean your marriage was a sacrifice, my good woman - ” said herhusband.

“Idomeanit”saidhiswife.

“Why,thenImeantosay,”pursuedMr.Tetterby,assulkilyandsurlilyasshe,“thattherearetwosidestothataffair;andthatIwasthesacrifice;andthatI

wishthesacrificehadn’tbeenaccepted.”

“Iwishithadn’t,Tetterby,withallmyheartandsoulIdoassureyou,”saidhiswife.“Youcan’twishitmorethanIdo,Tetterby.”

“I don’t know what I saw in her,” muttered the newsman, “I’m sure; -certainly, if I sawanything, it’s not therenow. Iwas thinking so, last night,after supper, by the fire. She’s fat, she’s ageing, shewon’t bear comparisonwithmostotherwomen.”

“He’scommon-looking,hehasnoairwithhim,he’ssmall,he’sbeginningtostoopandhe’sgettingbald,”mutteredMrs.Tetterby.

“ImusthavebeenhalfoutofmymindwhenIdidit,”mutteredMr.Tetterby.

“Mysensesmusthaveforsookme.That’stheonlywayinwhichIcanexplainittomyself,”saidMrs.Tetterbywithelaboration.

In this mood they sat down to breakfast. The little Tetterbys were nothabituated to regard that meal in the light of a sedentary occupation, butdiscussed it as a dance or trot; rather resembling a savage ceremony, in theoccasionallyshrillwhoops,andbrandishingsofbreadandbutter,withwhichitwasaccompanied,aswellasintheintricatefilingsoffintothestreetandbackagain,andthehoppingsupanddownthedoor-steps,whichwereincidentaltothe performance. In the present instance, the contentions between theseTetterbychildrenforthemilk-and-waterjug,commontoall,whichstooduponthe table, presented so lamentable an instance of angry passions risen veryhigh indeed, that itwas an outrage on thememory ofDr.Watts. Itwas notuntil Mr. Tetterby had driven the whole herd out at the front door, that amoment’speacewassecured;andeventhatwasbrokenbythediscoverythatJohnnyhadsurreptitiouslycomeback,andwasat that instantchokinginthejuglikeaventriloquist,inhisindecentandrapacioushaste.

“These children will be the death of me at last!” said Mrs. Tetterby, afterbanishingtheculprit.“Andthesoonerthebetter,Ithink.”

“Poorpeople,”saidMr.Tetterby,“oughtnottohavechildrenatall.Theygiveusnopleasure.”

He was at that moment taking up the cup whichMrs. Tetterby had rudelypushed towards him, andMrs.Tetterbywas lifting her own cup to her lips,whentheybothstopped,asiftheyweretransfixed.

“Here!Mother! Father!” cried Johnny, running into the room. “Here’sMrs.Williamcomingdownthestreet!”

And if ever, since theworld began, a youngboy took a baby froma cradlewiththecareofanoldnurse,andhushedandsoothedittenderly,andtotteredawaywith it cheerfully, Johnnywas thatboy,andMolochwas thatbaby,astheywentouttogether!

Mr.Tetterbyputdownhiscup;Mrs.Tetterbyputdownhercup.Mr.Tetterbyrubbedhisforehead;Mrs.Tetterbyrubbedhers.Mr.Tetterby’sfacebegantosmoothandbrighten;Mrs.Tetterby’sbegantosmoothandbrighten.

“Why, Lord forgive me,” said Mr. Tetterby to himself, “what evil tempershaveIbeengivingwayto?Whathasbeenthematterhere!”

“How could I ever treat him ill again, after all I said and felt last night!”sobbedMrs.Tetterby,withheraprontohereyes.

“AmIabrute,”saidMr.Tetterby,“oristhereanygoodinmeatall?Sophia!Mylittlewoman!”

“‘Dolphusdear,”returnedhiswife.

“I-I’vebeeninastateofmind,”saidMr.Tetterby,“thatIcan’tabeartothinkof,Sophy.”

“Oh!It’snothingtowhatI’vebeenin,Dolf,”criedhiswifeinagreatburstofgrief.

“MySophia,”saidMr.Tetterby,“don’ttakeon.Inevershallforgivemyself.Imusthavenearlybrokeyourheart,Iknow.”

“No,Dolf,no.Itwasme!Me!”criedMrs.Tetterby.

“Mylittlewoman,”saidherhusband,“don’t.Youmakemereproachmyself

dreadful,whenyoushowsuchanoblespirit.Sophia,mydear,youdon’tknowwhatIthought.Ishoweditbadenough,nodoubt;butwhatIthought,mylittlewoman!-”

“Oh,dearDolf,don’t!Don’t!”criedhiswife.

“Sophia,”saidMr.Tetterby,“Imustrevealit.Icouldn’trestinmyconscienceunlessImentionedit.Mylittlewoman-”

“Mrs.William’sverynearlyhere!”screamedJohnnyatthedoor.

“Mylittlewoman,Iwonderedhow,”gaspedMr.Tetterby,supportinghimselfbyhischair,“IwonderedhowIhadeveradmiredyou-Iforgotthepreciouschildrenyouhavebroughtaboutme,andthoughtyoudidn’tlookasslimasIcouldwish.I-Inevergavearecollection,”saidMr.Tetterby,withsevereself-accusation,“to thecaresyou’vehadasmywife,andalongofmeandmine,whenyoumighthavehadhardlyanywithanotherman,whogotonbetterandwasluckierthanme(anybodymighthavefoundsuchamaneasilyIamsure);andIquarrelledwithyouforhavingagedalittleintheroughyearsyouhavelightenedforme.Canyoubelieveit,mylittlewoman?Ihardlycanmyself.”

Mrs.Tetterby, inawhirlwindof laughingandcrying,caughthis facewithinherhands,andhelditthere.

“Oh,Dolf!” shecried.“Iamsohappy thatyou thought so; Iamsogratefulthatyouthoughtso!ForIthoughtthatyouwerecommon-looking,Dolf;andsoyouare,mydear,andmayyoubethecommonestofallsightsinmyeyes,tillyouclosethemwithyourowngoodhands.Ithoughtthatyouweresmall;andsoyouare,andI’llmakemuchofyoubecauseyouare,andmoreofyoubecauseIlovemyhusband.Ithoughtthatyoubegantostoop;andsoyoudo,andyoushallleanonme,andI’lldoallIcantokeepyouup.Ithoughttherewasnoairaboutyou;butthereis,andit’stheairofhome,andthat’sthepurestandthebestthereis,andGodblesshomeoncemore,andallbelongingtoit,Dolf!”

“Hurrah!Here’sMrs.William!”criedJohnny.

Soshewas,andallthechildrenwithher;andsoshecamein,theykissedher,and kissed one another, and kissed the baby, and kissed their father and

mother,andthenranbackandflockedanddancedabouther,troopingonwithherintriumph.

Mr. and Mrs. Tetterby were not a bit behind-hand in the warmth of theirreception.Theywereasmuchattracted toheras thechildrenwere; theyrantowards her, kissed her hands, pressed round her, could not receive herardentlyorenthusiasticallyenough.Shecameamongthemlikethespiritofallgoodness,affection,gentleconsideration,love,anddomesticity.

“What!areyouallsogladtoseeme,too,thisbrightChristmasmorning?”saidMilly,clappingherhandsinapleasantwonder.“Ohdear,howdelightfulthisis!”

Moreshoutingfromthechildren,morekissing,moretroopingroundher,morehappiness,morelove,morejoy,morehonour,onallsides,thanshecouldbear.

“Ohdear!” saidMilly, “what delicious tears youmakeme shed.Howcan Ieverhavedeservedthis!WhathaveIdonetobesoloved?”

“Whocanhelpit!”criedMr.Tetterby.

“Whocanhelpit!”criedMrs.Tetterby.

“Whocanhelpit!”echoedthechildren,inajoyfulchorus.Andtheydancedandtroopedaboutheragain,andclungtoher,andlaidtheirrosyfacesagainstherdress,andkissedandfondledit,andcouldnotfondleit,orher,enough.

“I never was so moved,” saidMilly, drying her eyes, “as I have been thismorning.Imusttellyou,assoonasIcanspeak.-Mr.Redlawcametomeatsunrise,andwithatendernessinhismanner,moreasifIhadbeenhisdarlingdaughterthanmyself,imploredmetogowithhimtowhereWilliam’sbrotherGeorgeis lyingill.Wewent together,andall thewayalonghewassokind,andsosubdued,andseemedtoputsuchtrustandhopeinme,thatIcouldnothelptryingwithpleasure.Whenwegottothehouse,wemetawomanatthedoor(somebodyhadbruisedandhurther,Iamafraid),whocaughtmebythehand,andblessedmeasIpassed.”

“Shewas right!”saidMr.Tetterby.Mrs.Tetterbysaidshewas right.All thechildrencriedoutthatshewasright.

“Ah,butthere’smorethanthat,”saidMilly.“Whenwegotupstairs,intotheroom, the sickmanwho had lain for hours in a state fromwhich no effortcouldrousehim,roseupinhisbed,and,burstingintotears,stretchedouthisarms tome, and said that he had led amis-spent life, but that hewas trulyrepentantnow, inhissorrowfor thepast,whichwasallasplain tohimasagreatprospect,fromwhichadenseblackcloudhadclearedaway,andthatheentreatedmetoaskhispooroldfatherforhispardonandhisblessing,andtosay a prayer besidehis bed.Andwhen I did so,Mr.Redlaw joined in it sofervently,andthensothankedandthankedme,andthankedHeaven,thatmyheartquiteoverflowed,andIcouldhavedonenothingbutsobandcry,ifthesickmanhadnotbeggedme tositdownbyhim, -whichmademequietofcourse.AsIsatthere,heheldmyhandinhisuntilhesankinadoze;andeventhen,whenIwithdrewmyhandtoleavehimtocomehere(whichMr.Redlawwasveryearnestindeedinwishingmetodo),hishandfeltformine,sothatsomeoneelsewasobligedtotakemyplaceandmakebelievetogivehimmyhand back.Oh dear, oh dear,” saidMilly, sobbing. “How thankful and howhappyIshouldfeel,anddofeel,forallthis!”

Whileshewasspeaking,Redlawhadcomein,and,afterpausingforamomenttoobserve thegroupofwhich shewas the centre, had silently ascended thestairs.Upon those stairs he now appeared again; remaining there,while theyoungstudentpassedhim,andcamerunningdown.

“Kindnurse, gentlest, best of creatures,” he said, fallingonhis knee to her,andcatchingatherhand,“forgivemycruelingratitude!”

“Ohdear,ohdear!”criedMillyinnocently,“here’sanotherofthem!Ohdear,here’ssomebodyelsewholikesme.WhatshallIeverdo!”

Theguileless,simplewayinwhichshesaidit,andinwhichsheputherhandsbefore her eyes and wept for very happiness, was as touching as it wasdelightful.

“I was not myself,” he said. “I don’t know what it was - it was someconsequence of my disorder perhaps - I was mad. But I am so no longer.AlmostasIspeak,Iamrestored.Iheardthechildrencryingoutyourname,andtheshadepassedfrommeat theverysoundof it.Oh,don’tweep!DearMilly,ifyoucouldreadmyheart,andonlyknewwithwhataffectionandwhat

gratefulhomageitisglowing,youwouldnotletmeseeyouweep.Itissuchdeepreproach.”

“No,no,”saidMilly,“it’snotthat.It’snotindeed.It’sjoy.It’swonderthatyoushouldthinkitnecessarytoaskmetoforgivesolittle,andyetit’spleasurethatyoudo.”

“Andwillyoucomeagain?andwillyoufinishthelittlecurtain?”

“No,”saidMilly,dryinghereyes,andshakingherhead.“Youwon’tcareformyneedleworknow.”

“Isitforgivingme,tosaythat?”

Shebeckonedhimaside,andwhisperedinhisear.

“Thereisnewsfromyourhome,Mr.Edmund.”

“News?How?”

“Either your not writing when you were very ill, or the change in yourhandwritingwhenyoubegantobebetter,createdsomesuspicionofthetruth;howeverthatis-butyou’resureyou’llnotbetheworseforanynews,ifit’snotbadnews?”

“Sure.”

“Thenthere’ssomeonecome!”saidMilly.

“My mother?” asked the student, glancing round involuntarily towardsRedlaw,whohadcomedownfromthestairs.

“Hush!No,”saidMilly.

“Itcanbenooneelse.”

“Indeed?”saidMilly,“areyousure?”

“Itisnot-”Beforehecouldsaymore,sheputherhanduponhismouth.

“Yes it is!” saidMilly. “Theyoung lady (she isvery like theminiature,Mr.Edmund, but she is prettier)was too unhappy to restwithout satisfying herdoubts, and came up, last night, with a little servant-maid. As you alwaysdated your letters from the college, she came there; and before I saw Mr.Redlawthismorning,Isawher.Shelikesmetoo!”saidMilly.“Ohdear,that’sanother!”

“Thismorning!Whereisshenow?”

“Why, she is now,” said Milly, advancing her lips to his ear, “in my littleparlourintheLodge,andwaitingtoseeyou.”

Hepressedherhand,andwasdartingoff,butshedetainedhim.

“Mr.Redlawismuchaltered,andhastoldmethismorningthathismemoryisimpaired.Beveryconsideratetohim,Mr.Edmund;heneedsthatfromusall.”

Theyoungmanassuredher,byalook,thathercautionwasnotill-bestowed;andashepassed theChemistonhiswayout, bent respectfully andwith anobviousinterestbeforehim.

Redlawreturnedthesalutationcourteouslyandevenhumbly,andlookedafterhim as he passed on. He dropped his head upon his hand too, as trying toreawakensomethinghehadlost.Butitwasgone.

Theabidingchangethathadcomeuponhimsincetheinfluenceofthemusic,andthePhantom’sreappearance,was,thatnowhetrulyfelthowmuchhehadlost,andcouldcompassionatehisowncondition,andcontrastit,clearly,withthenatural state of thosewhowere aroundhim. In this, an interest in thosewho were around him was revived, and a meek, submissive sense of hiscalamitywasbred,resemblingthatwhichsometimesobtainsinage,whenitsmentalpowersareweakened,withoutinsensibilityorsullennessbeingaddedtothelistofitsinfirmities.

Hewasconsciousthat,asheredeemed,throughMilly,moreandmoreoftheevilhehaddone,andashewasmoreandmorewithher,thischangeripeneditselfwithinhim.Therefore,andbecauseof theattachmentshe inspiredhimwith(butwithoutotherhope),hefeltthathewasquitedependentonher,and

thatshewashisstaffinhisaffliction.

So,whensheaskedhimwhethertheyshouldgohomenow,towheretheoldmanandherhusbandwere,andhereadilyreplied“yes”-beinganxiousinthatregard-heputhisarmthroughhers,andwalkedbesideher;notasifhewerethewiseandlearnedmantowhomthewondersofNaturewereanopenbook,and hers were the uninstructed mind, but as if their two positions werereversed,andheknewnothing,andsheall.

Hesawthechildrenthrongabouther,andcaressher,asheandshewentawaytogetherthus,outofthehouse;heheardtheringingoftheirlaughter,andtheirmerryvoices;hesawtheirbrightfaces,clusteringaroundhimlikeflowers;hewitnessedtherenewedcontentmentandaffectionoftheirparents;hebreathedthesimpleairoftheirpoorhome,restoredtoitstranquillity;hethoughtoftheunwholesomeblight he had shed upon it, andmight, but for her, have beendiffusingthen;andperhapsitisnowonderthathewalkedsubmissivelybesideher,anddrewhergentlebosomnearertohisown.

When they arrived at theLodge, the oldmanwas sitting in his chair in thechimney-corner,withhis eyes fixedon theground, andhis sonwas leaningagainst theoppositesideof thefire-place, lookingathim.Asshecameinatthe door, both started, and turned round towards her, and a radiant changecameupontheirfaces.

“Ohdear,dear,dear,theyareallpleasedtoseemeliketherest!”criedMilly,clappingherhandsinanecstasy,andstoppingshort.“Herearetwomore!”

Pleased to see her! Pleasurewas noword for it. She ran into her husband’sarms,thrownwideopentoreceiveher,andhewouldhavebeengladtohaveherthere,withherheadlyingonhisshoulder,throughtheshortwinter’sday.Buttheoldmancouldn’tspareher.Hehadarmsforhertoo,andhelockedherinthem.

“Why,wherehasmyquietMousebeenallthistime?”saidtheoldman.“Shehasbeenalongwhileaway.Ifindthatit’simpossibleformetogetonwithoutMouse.I-where’smysonWilliam?-IfancyIhavebeendreaming,William.”

“That’swhat Isaymyself, father,” returnedhisson.“Ihavebeen inanuglysortofdream,Ithink.-Howareyou,father?Areyouprettywell?”

“Strongandbrave,myboy,”returnedtheoldman.

It was quite a sight to seeMr.William shaking hands with his father, andpattinghimontheback,andrubbinghimgentlydownwithhishand,asifhecouldnotpossiblydoenoughtoshowaninterestinhim.

“Whatawonderfulmanyouare,father!-Howareyou,father?Areyoureallypretty hearty, though?” said William, shaking hands with him again, andpattinghimagain,andrubbinghimgentlydownagain.

“Ineverwasfresherorstouterinmylife,myboy.”

“Whatawonderfulmanyouare, father!But that’sexactlywhere it is,”saidMr. William, with enthusiasm. “When I think of all that my father’s gonethrough,andallthechancesandchanges,andsorrowsandtroubles,thathavehappenedtohiminthecourseofhislonglife,andunderwhichhisheadhasgrowngrey,andyearsuponyearshavegatheredonit,Ifeelasifwecouldn’tdoenoughtohonourtheoldgentleman,andmakehisoldageeasy.-Howareyou,father?Areyoureallyprettywell,though?”

Mr. William might never have left off repeating this inquiry, and shakinghandswithhimagain,andpattinghimagain,andrubbinghimdownagain,iftheoldmanhadnotespiedtheChemist,whomuntilnowhehadnotseen.

“Iaskyourpardon,Mr.Redlaw,”saidPhilip,“butdidn’tknowyouwerehere,sir,orshouldhavemadelessfree.Itremindsme,Mr.Redlaw,seeingyouhereon aChristmasmorning, of the timewhen youwas a student yourself, andworkedsohardthatyouwerebackwardsandforwardsinourLibraryevenatChristmastime.Ha!ha!I’moldenoughtorememberthat;andIrememberitrightwell, I do, though I ameight-seven. Itwas after you left here thatmypoorwifedied.Youremembermypoorwife,Mr.Redlaw?”

TheChemistansweredyes.

“Yes,”saidtheoldman.“Shewasadearcreetur.-IrecollectyoucomehereoneChristmasmorningwithayoung lady - I askyourpardon,Mr.Redlaw,butIthinkitwasasisteryouwasverymuchattachedto?”

The Chemist looked at him, and shook his head. “I had a sister,” he saidvacantly.Heknewnomore.

“OneChristmasmorning,”pursuedtheoldman,“thatyoucomeherewithher-anditbegantosnow,andmywifeinvitedtheladytowalkin,andsitbythefirethatisalwaysaburningonChristmasDayinwhatusedtobe,beforeourten poor gentlemen commuted, our great Dinner Hall. I was there; and Irecollect,asIwasstirringuptheblazefortheyoungladytowarmherprettyfeetby,shereadthescrolloutloud,thatisunderneaththatpictur,‘Lord,keepmymemorygreen!’She andmypoorwife fell a talking about it; and it’s astrangethingtothinkof,now,thattheybothsaid(bothbeingsounliketodie)thatitwasagoodprayer,andthatitwasonetheywouldputupveryearnestly,if theywerecalledawayyoung,withreferencetothosewhoweredearest tothem.‘Mybrother,’saystheyounglady-‘Myhusband,’saysmypoorwife.-‘Lord,keephismemoryofme,green,anddonotletmebeforgotten!’”

Tears more painful, and more bitter than he had ever shed in all his life,courseddownRedlaw’sface.Philip,fullyoccupiedinrecallinghisstory,hadnotobservedhimuntilnow,norMilly’sanxietythatheshouldnotproceed.

“Philip!”saidRedlaw,layinghishanduponhisarm,“Iamastrickenman,onwhom the hand of Providence has fallen heavily, although deservedly. Youspeaktome,myfriend,ofwhatIcannotfollow;mymemoryisgone.”

“Mercifulpower!”criedtheoldman.

“I have lostmymemory of sorrow,wrong, and trouble,” said the Chemist,“andwiththatIhavelostallmanwouldremember!”

ToseeoldPhilip’spityforhim,toseehimwheelhisowngreatchairforhimtorest in,andlookdownuponhimwithasolemnsenseofhisbereavement,wastoknow,insomedegree,howprecioustooldagesuchrecollectionsare.

Theboycamerunningin,andrantoMilly.

“Here’stheman,”hesaid,“intheotherroom.Idon’twanthim.”

“Whatmandoeshemean?”askedMr.William.

“Hush!”saidMilly.

Obedient to a sign fromher, he and his old father softlywithdrew.As theywentout,unnoticed,Redlawbeckonedtotheboytocometohim.

“Ilikethewomanbest,”heanswered,holdingtoherskirts.

“Youareright,”saidRedlaw,withafaintsmile.“Butyouneedn’tfeartocometome.IamgentlerthanIwas.Ofalltheworld,toyou,poorchild!”

The boy still held back at first, but yielding little by little to her urging, heconsented to approach, andeven to sit downathis feet.AsRedlaw laidhishandupon theshoulderof thechild, lookingonhimwithcompassionandafellow-feeling,heputouthisotherhandtoMilly.Shestoopeddownon thatsideofhim,sothatshecouldlookintohisface,andaftersilence,said:

“Mr.Redlaw,mayIspeaktoyou?”

“Yes,”heanswered,fixinghiseyesuponher.“Yourvoiceandmusicarethesametome.”

“MayIaskyousomething?”

“Whatyouwill.”

“DoyourememberwhatIsaid,whenIknockedatyourdoorlastnight?Aboutonewhowasyourfriendonce,andwhostoodonthevergeofdestruction?”

“Yes.Iremember,”hesaid,withsomehesitation.

“Doyouunderstandit?”

Hesmoothedtheboy’shair-lookingatherfixedlythewhile,andshookhishead.

“Thisperson,”saidMilly,inherclear,softvoice,whichhermildeyes,lookingathim,madeclearerandsofter,“Ifoundsoonafterwards.Iwentbacktothehouse,and,withHeaven’shelp, tracedhim.Iwasnot toosoon.AverylittleandIshouldhavebeentoolate.”

Hetookhishandfromtheboy,andlayingitonthebackofthathandofhers,whosetimidandyetearnesttouchaddressedhimnolessappealinglythanhervoiceandeyes,lookedmoreintentlyonher.

“HeisthefatherofMr.Edmund,theyounggentlemanwesawjustnow.HisrealnameisLongford.-Yourecollectthename?”

“Irecollectthename.”

“Andtheman?”

“No,nottheman.Didheeverwrongme?”

“Yes!”

“Ah!Thenit’shopeless-hopeless.”

Heshookhishead,andsoftlybeatuponthehandheheld,as thoughmutelyaskinghercommiseration.

“IdidnotgotoMr.Edmundlastnight,”saidMilly,-“Youwill listentomejustthesameasifyoudidrememberall?”

“Toeverysyllableyousay.”

“Both, because I did not know, then, that this really was his father, andbecause I was fearful of the effect of such intelligence upon him, after hisillness,ifitshouldbe.SinceIhaveknownwhothispersonis,Ihavenotgoneeither;butthatisforanotherreason.Hehaslongbeenseparatedfromhiswifeand son - has been a stranger to his home almost from this son’s infancy, Ilearn fromhim-andhasabandonedanddesertedwhathe shouldhaveheldmostdear. Inall that timehehasbeenfallingfromthestateofagentleman,more andmore, until - ” she rose up, hastily, and going out for amoment,returned,accompaniedbythewreckthatRedlawhadbeheldlastnight.

“Doyouknowme?”askedtheChemist.

“Ishouldbeglad,”returnedtheother,“andthatisanunwontedwordformeto

use,ifIcouldanswerno.”

TheChemist looked at theman, standing in self-abasement anddegradationbefore him, and would have looked longer, in an ineffectual struggle forenlightenment, but that Milly resumed her late position by his side, andattractedhisattentivegazetoherownface.

“Seehow lowhe is sunk,how losthe is!” shewhispered, stretchingoutherarm towards him, without looking from the Chemist’s face. “If you couldrememberallthatisconnectedwithhim,doyounotthinkitwouldmoveyourpitytoreflectthatoneyoueverloved(donotletusmindhowlongago,orinwhatbeliefthathehasforfeited),shouldcometothis?”

“Ihopeitwould,”heanswered.“Ibelieveitwould.”

His eyes wandered to the figure standing near the door, but came backspeedilytoher,onwhomhegazedintently,asifhestrovetolearnsomelessonfromeverytoneofhervoice,andeverybeamofhereyes.

“Ihavenolearning,andyouhavemuch,”saidMilly;“Iamnotusedtothink,andyouarealwaysthinking.MayItellyouwhyitseemstomeagoodthingforus,torememberwrongthathasbeendoneus?”

“Yes.”

“Thatwemayforgiveit.”

“Pardon me, great Heaven!” said Redlaw, lifting up his eyes, “for havingthrownawaythineownhighattribute!”

“Andif,”saidMilly,“ifyourmemoryshouldonedayberestored,aswewillhopeandprayitmaybe,woulditnotbeablessingtoyoutorecallatonceawronganditsforgiveness?”

He looked at the figure by the door, and fastened his attentive eyes on heragain;arayofclearerlightappearedtohimtoshineintohismind,fromherbrightface.

“He cannot go to his abandoned home. He does not seek to go there. He

knowsthathecouldonlycarryshameandtrouble to thosehehassocruellyneglected; and that the best reparation he can make them now, is to avoidthem. A very little money carefully bestowed, would remove him to somedistantplace,wherehemightliveanddonowrong,andmakesuchatonementasisleftwithinhispowerforthewronghehasdone.Totheunfortunateladywhoishiswife,andtohisson, thiswouldbethebestandkindestboonthattheirbestfriendcouldgivethem-onetoothattheyneedneverknowof;andtohim,shatteredinreputation,mind,andbody,itmightbesalvation.”

Hetookherheadbetweenherhands,andkissedit,andsaid:“Itshallbedone.I trust toyou todo it forme,nowandsecretly;and to tellhimthat Iwouldforgivehim,ifIweresohappyastoknowforwhat.”

As she rose, and turned her beaming face towards the fallenman, implyingthat her mediation had been successful, he advanced a step, and withoutraisinghiseyes,addressedhimselftoRedlaw.

“Youaresogenerous,”hesaid,“-youeverwere-thatyouwilltrytobanishyourrisingsenseofretributioninthespectaclethatisbeforeyou.Idonottrytobanishitfrommyself,Redlaw.Ifyoucan,believeme.”

TheChemistentreatedMilly,byagesture,tocomenearertohim;and,ashelistenedlookedinherface,asiftofindinitthecluetowhatheheard.

“Iamtoodecayedawretchtomakeprofessions;Irecollectmyowncareertoowell,toarrayanysuchbeforeyou.ButfromthedayonwhichImademyfirststepdownward, indealing falselybyyou, I havegonedownwith a certain,steady,doomedprogression.That,Isay.”

Redlaw,keepinghercloseathisside,turnedhisfacetowardsthespeaker,andtherewassorrowinit.Somethinglikemournfulrecognitiontoo.

“Imighthavebeenanotherman,mylifemighthavebeenanotherlife,ifIhadavoided that first fatal step. I don’t know that it would have been. I claimnothingforthepossibility.Yoursisterisatrest,andbetterthanshecouldhavebeenwithme,ifIhadcontinuedevenwhatyouthoughtme:evenwhatIoncesupposedmyselftobe.”

Redlaw made a hasty motion with his hand, as if he would have put that

subjectononeside.

“Ispeak,”theotherwenton,“likeamantakenfromthegrave.Ishouldhavemademyowngrave,lastnight,haditnotbeenforthisblessedhand.”

“Ohdear,helikesmetoo!”sobbedMilly,underherbreath.“That’sanother!”

“Icouldnothaveputmyselfinyourway,lastnight,evenforbread.But,to-day,myrecollectionofwhathasbeenissostronglystirred,andispresentedtome,Idon’tknowhow,sovividly,thatIhavedaredtocomeathersuggestion,and to takeyourbounty,and to thankyoufor it,and tobegyou,Redlaw, inyourdyinghour,tobeasmercifultomeinyourthoughts,asyouareinyourdeeds.”

Heturnedtowardsthedoor,andstoppedamomentonhiswayforth.

“Ihopemysonmayinterestyou,forhismother’ssake.Ihopehemaydeservetodoso.Unlessmylifeshouldbepreservedalongtime,andIshouldknowthatIhavenotmisusedyouraid,Ishallneverlookuponhimmore.”

Going out, he raised his eyes to Redlaw for the first time. Redlaw, whosesteadfast gazewas fixeduponhim,dreamilyheldouthishand.He returnedandtouchedit-littlemore-withbothhisown;andbendingdownhishead,wentslowlyout.

Inthefewmomentsthatelapsed,whileMillysilentlytookhimtothegate,theChemistdropped intohischair, andcoveredhis facewithhishands.Seeinghim thus,when she cameback, accompanied by her husband andhis father(whowere both greatly concerned for him), she avoided disturbing him, orpermittinghimtobedisturbed;andkneeleddownnearthechairtoputsomewarmclothingontheboy.

“That’sexactlywhere it is.That’swhat Ialwayssay, father!”exclaimedheradmiringhusband. “There’s amotherly feeling inMrs.William’sbreast thatmustandwillhavewent!”

“Ay,ay,”saidtheoldman;“you’reright.MysonWilliam’sright!”

“Ithappensallforthebest,Millydear,nodoubt,”saidMr.William,tenderly,

“thatwehavenochildrenofourown;andyetIsometimeswishyouhadonetoloveandcherish.Ourlittledeadchildthatyoubuiltsuchhopesupon,andthatneverbreathedthebreathoflife-ithasmadeyouquiet-like,Milly.”

“I am very happy in the recollection of it,William dear,” she answered. “Ithinkofiteveryday.”

“Iwasafraidyouthoughtofitagooddeal.”

“Don’tsay,afraid;itisacomforttome;itspeakstomeinsomanyways.Theinnocentthingthatneverlivedonearth,islikeanangeltome,William.”

“You are like an angel to father andme,” saidMr.William, softly. “I knowthat.”

“WhenIthinkofallthosehopesIbuiltuponit,andthemanytimesIsatandpicturedtomyselfthelittlesmilingfaceuponmybosomthatneverlaythere,and the sweet eyes turned up tomine that never opened to the light,” saidMilly,“Icanfeelagreatertenderness,Ithink,forallthedisappointedhopesinwhichthereisnoharm.WhenIseeabeautifulchildinitsfondmother’sarms,I love itall thebetter, thinking thatmychildmighthavebeen like that,andmighthavemademyheartasproudandhappy.”

Redlawraisedhishead,andlookedtowardsher.

“Allthroughlife,itseemsbyme,”shecontinued,“totellmesomething.Forpoor neglected children,my little child pleads as if itwere alive, andhad avoiceIknew,withwhichtospeaktome.WhenIhearofyouthinsufferingorshame,I thinkthatmychildmighthavecometothat,perhaps,andthatGodtookitfrommeinHismercy.Eveninageandgreyhair,suchasfather’s,itispresent:sayingthatittoomighthavelivedtobeold,longandlongafteryouandIweregone,andtohaveneededtherespectandloveofyoungerpeople.”

Herquietvoicewasquieterthanever,asshetookherhusband’sarm,andlaidherheadagainstit.

“Childrenlovemeso,thatsometimesIhalffancy-it’sasillyfancy,William-theyhavesomeway Idon’tknowof,of feeling formy littlechild, andme,andunderstandingwhytheirloveisprecioustome.IfIhavebeenquietsince,

Ihavebeenmorehappy,William,inahundredways.Notleasthappy,dear,inthis-thatevenwhenmylittlechildwasbornanddeadbutafewdays,andIwas weak and sorrowful, and could not help grieving a little, the thoughtarose, that if I tried to lead a good life, I should meet in Heaven a brightcreature,whowouldcallme,Mother!”

Redlawfelluponhisknees,withaloudcry.

“O Thou, he said, “who through the teaching of pure love, hast graciouslyrestoredmetothememorywhichwasthememoryofChristupontheCross,andofall thegoodwhoperished inHiscause, receivemythanks,andblessher!”

Then,hefoldedhertohisheart;andMilly,sobbingmorethanever,cried,asshelaughed,“Heiscomebacktohimself!Helikesmeverymuchindeed,too!Oh,dear,dear,dearme,here’sanother!”

Then,thestudententered,leadingbythehandalovelygirl,whowasafraidtocome.AndRedlawsochanged towardshim, seeing inhimandhisyouthfulchoice, the softened shadow of that chastening passage in his own life, towhich,astoashadytree,thedovesolongimprisonedinhissolitaryarkmightflyforrestandcompany,felluponhisneck,entreatingthemtobehischildren.

Then,asChristmasisatimeinwhich,ofalltimesintheyear,thememoryofeveryremediablesorrow,wrong,andtroubleintheworldaroundus,shouldbeactivewithus,notlessthanourownexperiences,forallgood,helaidhishandupon the boy, and, silently calling Him to witness who laid His hand onchildren in old time, rebuking, in the majesty of His prophetic knowledge,thosewhokeptthemfromHim,vowedtoprotecthim,teachhim,andreclaimhim.

Then,hegavehisrighthandcheerilytoPhilip,andsaidthattheywouldthatdayholdaChristmasdinnerinwhatusedtobe,beforethetenpoorgentlemencommuted, theirgreatDinnerHall;and that theywouldbid to itasmanyofthatSwidger family,who,his sonhad toldhim,weresonumerous that theymightjoinhandsandmakearingroundEngland,ascouldbebroughttogetheronsoshortanotice.

Anditwasthatdaydone.ThereweresomanySwidgersthere,grownupand

children, that an attempt to state them in round numbers might engenderdoubts,inthedistrustful,oftheveracityofthishistory.Thereforetheattemptshallnotbemade.Buttheretheywere,bydozensandscores-andtherewasgood news and good hope there, ready for them, ofGeorge,who had beenvisitedagainbyhisfatherandbrother,andbyMilly,andagainleftinaquietsleep.There, present at the dinner, too,were theTetterbys, including youngAdolphus,whoarrived inhisprismaticcomforter, ingoodtimefor thebeef.Johnnyandthebabyweretoolate,ofcourse,andcameinallononeside,theone exhausted, the other in a supposed state of double-tooth; but that wascustomary,andnotalarming.

Itwas sad to see the childwhohadnonameor lineage,watching theotherchildren as they played, not knowing how to talk with them, or sport withthem,andmorestrangetothewaysofchildhoodthanaroughdog.Itwassad,thoughinadifferentway,toseewhataninstinctiveknowledgetheyoungestchildrentherehadofhisbeingdifferentfromalltherest,andhowtheymadetimidapproachestohimwithsoftwordsandtouches,andwithlittlepresents,thathemightnotbeunhappy.

ButhekeptbyMilly,andbegantoloveher-thatwasanother,asshesaid!-and, as theyall likedherdearly, theyweregladof that, andwhen they sawhimpeepingatthemfrombehindherchair,theywerepleasedthathewassoclosetoit.

All this, the Chemist, sitting with the student and his bride that was to be,Philip,andtherest,saw.

Somepeoplehave said since, thatheonly thoughtwhathasbeenherein setdown; others, that he read it in the fire, onewinter night about the twilighttime;others,thattheGhostwasbuttherepresentationofhisgloomythoughts,andMillytheembodimentofhisbetterwisdom.

Isaynothing.

-Except this.Thatas theywereassembledin theoldHall,bynoother lightthanthatofagreatfire(havingdinedearly),theshadowsoncemorestoleoutof their hiding-places, and danced about the room, showing the childrenmarvellous shapesand faceson thewalls, andgraduallychangingwhatwasrealandfamiliarthere,towhatwaswildandmagical.

ButthattherewasonethingintheHall,towhichtheeyesofRedlaw,andof

Millyandherhusband,andoftheoldman,andofthestudent,andhisbridethat was to be, were often turned, which the shadows did not obscure orchange.

Deepenedinitsgravitybythefire-light,andgazingfromthedarknessofthepanelledwalllikelife,thesedatefaceintheportrait,withthebeardandruff,lookeddownatthemfromunderitsverdantwreathofholly,astheylookedupat it; and, clear and plain below, as if a voice had uttered them, were thewords.

LordkeepmyMemorygreen.

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