than he had done, and he had drivelled quite enough. That was the worst of unaccustomed and genuine interest from one of your fellow-men. It was like wine to one not used to it—it mounted to your brain, you became garrulous. To those who are used to wine, one glass, two glasses, nay, even [Pg 33]three glasses, means nothing. To those who have not tasted the liquor for years, half a glass may prove unsteadying. It was not even as if it would be offered to him with sufficient frequency for him to become accustomed to it. No; most assuredly the wine of sympathy was not for him.

[Pg 33]

And then he stopped suddenly in his meditations, for the water in the pot was boiling.

When Peter had finished his meal he pulled a brier-wood pipe from his pocket, filled it with tobacco, and lit it. He also lit a candle, which he set in one of the copper candlesticks and placed upon the table. Then once more he drew his book from the brown-paper covering.

For a time he sat very still, only moving a hand to turn the pages. The candle-light threw his shadow large and grotesque on the dingy wall behind him. Occasionally the shadow wavered as the candle flickered in the draught from the broken window. The fire had died down to a few glowing spots set in a bed of grey ashes. Outside the rain fell steadily, and the wind still creaked the branches of the fir-trees.

At last Peter closed the book. He rolled his piece of sacking into a bundle to form a pillow, and [Pg 34]stretched himself on the stone floor before the hearth. It was preferable, he considered, to the mildewy bed.

[Pg 34]

“I wonder,” he mused, “who were the former owners of this place. No doubt they are long since dead. Well, if so, on their souls, and on all Christian souls, sweet Jesu, have mercy!” He made the sign of the Cross.

In ten minutes Peter was asleep. He slept well, but he dreamt, and once or twice through his dreams he heard the sound of sobbing. It was a pitiful little sobbing, as of a woman in grief, and mingled with it seemed to be faint half-articulate words.

Once Peter half-awakened, and for a moment he fancied the sobbing was real, but reason, which was working fitfully, told him it was only the wind in the trees without. He shifted his position and fell asleep again.

[Pg 35]

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