Susan ran out of the house and returned with a pair of boots which she
had bought at a second-hand clothes-shop, and which Ellen was very
thankful for, although they were much too large for her.
Mr. Taylor came home at midnight in a state of drunken delirium. He
had drunk deeply--so deeply, that when he slammed the street-door
behind him, he found himself in the midst of a thousand mocking eyes,
growing upon him and blasting him with hideous looks; and as he groped
his way in terror up the dark stairs, a thousand misshapen hands
strove to bar his progress. They fastened on him and clung to him; and
the faster his trembling hands beat them down and tore them away, the
more thickly they multiplied. So, fighting and suffering and groaning
in his agony, the drunkard staggered to his room, and Dan and Ellen
shuddered as they lay and listened. Well for them that they could not
see as well as hear; well for them that they could not see him pick
the crawling things (existing only in his imagination) off his
bed-clothes and throw them off with loathing; that they could not see
him, bathed in perspiration, writhing in his bed and fighting with his
punishment. He could not endure it. It was too horrible to bear.
The room was full of creeping shapes, visible in the midst of the
darkness. He would go out into the streets, into the light, where they
could not follow him. Where was the door? He felt about the walls for
it. It was gone; he was closed in, imprisoned with his terrors. He
beat about with his hands deliriously. The window! ah, they had not
closed that! He dashed at the panes, and tearing open the casement
with his bleeding fingers, fell from a height of twenty feet, and met
a drunkard's death.
CHAPTER XIII.
DAN DECLARES THAT IT IS LIKE A ROMANCE.
The old gentleman with the hour-glass who never sleeps does not look a
day older, and yet four seasons have played their parts and have
passed away. The white hairs in George Marvel's head are multiplying
fast, and he grumbles at them as usual, but has given up the task of
pulling them out. Great changes have taken place among Joshua's
friends; and Dan, looking up from his work, remarks sometimes that it
is almost like a romance. Judge if it is.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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