The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1891-02-28

him, and put a ring on his hand and shoes
on his feet;
"And bring hither the fatted calf and
kill it, and let us eat and be merry.
''For this my son was dead, and is alive
again--"
"Tap, tap, tap" sounded suddenly on
the outside door through the preternatural
silence
With gasp the old lawyer sprang to
his feet. Holding by the mantelpiece TO
steady his trembling form, he waited for
repetition of the knock; quivering with
fear, pale with excitement, he waited.
Everything was as silent as the grave.
Suddenly the great old clock in the corner
chimed out the hour, loud and clear. 1t
struck ten.
Sweating with agony and terror, the old
lawyer stood waiting for a renewal Of the
knock. He waited in vain. None came.
Everything remained as silent as the grave,
There was no sound of footsteps on the
stairs. There was no sign of human motion
or human presence The knock seemed
like summons from the dead.
At length, almost fainting with weakness
and fear, Sergeant Stronge sank back into
his chair and sat there for long time
trembling. An hour had elapsed before
he had recovered sufficient calmness to
think reasonably of the sound ne seemed
to have heard.
"My mind is getting unhinged," he then
said to himself, "My imagination is play
ing me tricks. Trouble is unnerving me
altogether. l must pull myself together
must make an effort to take my mind off
these ghastly subjects or | shall 90 raving
mad"
He rose nervously and put some fresh
Goals on the fire. Hestook the shade off
the reading lamp and turned up the flame
to its highest point. He wanted light,
more light. Darkness had become terror
to him. But yesterday he was man who
would have faced anything; today sorrow
and remorse had made him child again
who feared the dark
That night Sergeant Stronge did not go
to bed. Through the long hours Of dark
ness he sat before the blazing fire with his
lamp burning high, and trembled ii cur
tain rusted or window creaked
The next morning being Monday, his
old clerk called according to his custom at
Kings Bench Walk, bringing with him
the letters from Sergeant Stronge's business
chambers in Pump Court.
Il can't attend to business for the pres
ent, John" the Sergeant said to him
'Tell any client who asks about me that
cannot be seen till after the vacation.
''I will, sir, answered the old clerk, who
had seen all about his masters calamitie'
in the morning papers.
'And, John" said the Sergeant, 'jus
come back here in the evening. | ma.
want you ostop with me over night. Th
troubles I've gone through since Saturda.,
have quite unnerved me. I'm actuall,
afraid to stay here at night alone
ayes, sir" replied the old clerk, duti
, fully.
He had not been used to be spoken t.
by his master in that gentle way, and tn
softeniug of the Sergeant's manner toucheC
him.
"And, John" the Sergeant went on
'syou might go round to u Rute's Court
where my sons widow lives, and see if yo'
can induce her to accept help. She refused
it from me yesterday, but she was wiI'
with despair. She may be calmer an'
more reasonable today. I'm too weak an'
and nervous to see her again myself.
ayes, sir" answered the old clerk.
The change in the Sergeant was amazin!
to John Mundie, and pathetic, too, II
felt deeply for that man, whom he had $
long known as proud, strong and arbitrary
and whom he now saw so soft and feeble
He could we'll imagine how fearful tn
suffering must have been which had wrough
such revolution.
In the evening the old clerk came bac
> to the Sergeant's resident chambers. L
, reply to his masters inquiries he told hir
that his sons widow had become so i'll tina
there was danger Of her speedy deatl
He had had her removed to the hospita
, and had taken the child home to his ow
wife.
"John," said the old lawyer, "you hav
n been kinder to my own flesh and bloc
d than have been. Heaven bless you ft
d it Blessed are the merciful for they sha
a have mercy You can sleep in Charl-i
P the vacant room, John, and leave yor
IS door open so as to hear me if call.
IS eyes, sir, said John, and walked OIL
1t the old room, which poor Charlie, when /
/ was at home, used to occupy.
: That night, as on the previous one, IL
old lawyer placed himself in his easy cha
it before the fire and gave up his mind to Il
/ terrible occurrences of the previous da..
ID and nights. He had endeavored to dive
IS his thoughts to something else, with vel
le scant success, but as the evening came {
e he ceased to struggle. He felt that it W
r useless, and that for the present nothiI
else could occupy his attention.
he Though worn cut in misery and fatisu
~ he never for a moment slept. There
he col silant and ,notionless as n sfatue h