"I am afraid the event will mar our holiday gayeties to some extent,
stranger though he is!" deplored the hostess. "Some people are
superstitious about such things. His must have been the spectral
visage I saw at the window. I was sure it was that of a white man
although Winston tried, to persuade me to the contrary."

"It is dreadful!" ejaculated Mabel energetically. "He, poor homeless
wayfarer, perishing with cold and want in the very light of our
summer-like rooms; getting his only glimpse of the fires that would
have brought back vitality to his freezing body through closed
windows! Then to be hunted down by dogs, and locked up by more
unfeeling men, as if he were a ravenous beast, instead of a
suffering fellow-mortal! I shall always feel as if I were, in some
measure, chargeable with his death--should he die. Heaven forgive us
our selfish thoughtlessness, our criminal disregard of our brother's
life!"

"I understood you to say there was no hope!" interrupted Mrs.
Aylett.

"So Dr. Ritchie declares. But I cannot bear to believe it!"

She pressed her fingers upon her eyeballs as if she would exclude
some horrid vision.

"My dear sister! your nerves have been cruelly tried. To-morrow, you
will see this matter--and everything else--through a different
medium. As for the object of your amiable pity, he is, without
doubt, some low, dissipated creature, of whom the world will be well
rid."