Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1893-03-10

with a moderated voice, he made the
hasty circuit of the garden, and find
ing neither man nor trace OF man in
all its evergreen coverts, turned at
last to the house. About the house
the silence seemed to deepen strange
ly. The door, indeed, stood open as
before; but the windows were still
suffered, the chimncys breathed no
stain into the bright air, there sound
ed abroad none of that low stir (per-
haps audible rather TO the eyes of the
spirit than to the ear of the flesh) by
which house announces and betrays
its human dodgers. And yet Alan
must be there-Alan locked in drunk
en- slumbers, forgetful of the return
of day, of the holy season, and OF the
friend whom he had so coldly re-
ceived and was now so churlishly
neglecting. Johns disgust redoubled
at the thought; but hunger was be-
ginning to grow stronger than re-
pulsion, and as step to breakfast, If
nothing else, he must find and arouse
this sleeper.
He made the circuit of the bed
room quarters. All, until he came
to Alan's chamber, were locked from
without, and bore the marks of a
prolonged disuse. But Alan's was a
room in commission, filled with
clothes, knickknacks, letters, books,
and the conveniences of solitary
man. The fire had been lighted;
but it had long ago burned
out, and the ashes were stone
cold. The bed had been made, but it
had not been slept in.
Worse and worse, then; Alan must
have fallen where he sat, and now
sprawled brutishly, no doubt upon the
dining-room floor.
The dining-room was a very long
apartment and was reached through
a passage; so that John, upon his en-
trance, brought but little light with
him, and must move toward the win
dow with spread arms, cropping and
knocking on the furniture. Suddenly
he tripped and fell his length over a
PROSTATE body. 1t was what he had
looked for, yet it shocked him; and he
marvelled that so rough an impact
should not have kicked groan out of
the drunkard. Men had killed them
selves ere now in such excuses, and
dreary and degraded end that made
John shudder. What if Alan were
deadP There would be Christmas
Day!
BY this, John had his hand upon
the shutters, and flinging them back,
beheld once again the blessed face OF
the day. Even by that light the room
had Uncomfortable air. The chairs
were scattered and one had been over
thrown; the tablecloth, laid as If for
dinner, was twitched to one side, and
some of the dishes had fallen TO the
floor. Behind the table lay the drunk
ard, still unaroused, only one foot Wis
ible to John.
But now that light was In the room,
the worst seemed over; it was a dis
gushing business, but not more than
disgusting; and it was with no great
apprehension that John proceeded to
make the circuit of the table; his
last comparatively tranquil moment
for that day. No sooner had he turned
the corner, no sooner had his eyes
alighted on the body, than he gave a
smothered, breathless cry, and fed
out of the room and out of the house.
1t was not Alan who lay there, but
a man well up in years, OF stern coun-
tenance and iron-gray locks; and ii
was no drunkard, for the body lay in
black pool of blood, and the open
eyes stared upon the ceiling.
To and fro walked John before the
door. The extreme sharpness of the
air acted on his nerves like an astrin-
gent and braced them swiftly. Pres
emily, he not relaxing in his disor-
dered walk, the images began to come
clearer and stay longer in his fancy;
and next the power Of thought came
back to him, and the horror and dan.
ger of his situation rooted him to the
ground.
ITO BE CONTINUED.