'I supposed so. A word with you outside.' To Hiram this was a joyful summons, and he responded with alacrity. As they went out, the doctor closed the door, and the two stood together in the gloomy hall at the top of the staircase. 'Mr. Meeker, you recognize me, doubtless?' There was no reply. 'I am Dr. Peters, who called to see you about two weeks ago, on behalf of a poor woman whose dead body is now in that room. I told you, if she had to be moved, it would kill her. Your agent drove her out, and she lies here dead! It has made her husband crazy--a temporary lunacy, I trust--but, whatever it is, there you see the whole. 'I am expecting some persons every moment,' he continued, 'who will remain here all night, and I will detain you no longer.' The doctor spoke in such a tone of quiet dignity, that it was impossible for Hiram to reply. He fumbled for a moment in his coat, and then drew out his pocket book. Producing several bills, he offered them to the doctor, muttering half inaudibly something about his desire to pay funeral expenses. The young physician drew back, as if in danger of contamination. 'Your money perish with you!' he said, solemnly. 'Think you charity consists in bank notes?' The doctor turned and reentered the chamber; and Hiram Meeker proceeded slowly down the stairs and into the street. His thoughts, as he walked homeward, were not of an enviable nature. I confess I have no desire to attempt to portray them. CHAPTER VII. Hiram's slumbers that night were much disturbed. His rest was broken by strange dreams, frightful or preposterous, which, running into each other, became blended in a confused mass of floating fancies. At last he woke. He opened big eyes. It was perfectly dark. * * * * * Suddenly he realized just what he was. No business--no money--no earth--no foothold--nothing but a naked soul. Hiram lay breathing with slow respirations. Even his piety was not present to support him. The world was swept from under him. Then came a stern sense--a patent conviction--of all he had counted on: nothing--nothing! He turned over, and fell asleep again. But still refreshing slumber was denied him; still were the night visions terrifying. At last these appeared to take a definite shape. Heaving, working, revolving, the chaotic mass assumed form and grew luminous. All of a sudden, IT changed to one great, bright, burning _eye_. Then _he_ was the eye--all eye--nothing but eye! What sights were presented! The eye was gifted with a wonderful vision. It could discern true from false--real from counterfeit--what was genuine from sham and pretence.