heaven　and　shed　gloom　upon　the　earth。　　He　scrambled　up　among
  the　hazelled　rubbish　heaps　that　surround　the　caldron　of　the
  quarry；　and　lay　flat　upon　the　stones。　　The　wind　searched
  close　along　the　earth；　the　stones　were　cutting　and　icy；　the
  bare　hazels　wailed　about　him；　and　soon　the　air　of　the
  afternoon　began　to　be　vocal　with　those　strange　and　dismal
  harpings　that　herald　snow。　　Pain　and　misery　turned　in　John's
  limbs　to　a　harrowing　impatience　and　blind　desire　of　change；
  now　he　would　roll　in　his　harsh　lair；　and　when　the　flints
  abraded　him；　was　almost　pleased；　now　he　would　crawl　to　the
  edge　of　the　huge　pit　and　look　dizzily　down。　　He　saw　the
  spiral　of　the　descending　roadway；　the　steep　crags；　the
  clinging　bushes；　the　peppering　of　snow…wreaths；　and　far　down
  in　the　bottom；　the　diminished　crane。　　Here；　no　doubt；　was　a
  way　to　end　it。　　But　it　somehow　did　not　take　his　fancy。
  And　suddenly　he　was　aware　that　he　was　hungry；　ay；　even
  through　the　tortures　of　the　cold；　even　through　the　frosts　of
  despair；　a　gross；　desperate　longing　after　food；　no　matter
  what；　no　matter　how；　began　to　wake　and　spur　him。　　Suppose　he
  pawned　his　watch？　　But　no；　on　Christmas…day　…　this　was
  Christmas…day！　…　the　pawnshop　would　be　closed。　　Suppose　he
  went　to　the　public…house　close　by　at　Blackhall；　and　offered
  the　watch；　which　was　worth　ten　pounds；　in　payment　for　a　meal
  of　bread　and　cheese？　　The　incongruity　was　too　remarkable；　the
  good　folks　would　either　put　him　to　the　door；　or　only　let　him
  in　to　send　for　the　police。　　He　turned　his　pockets　out　one
  after　another；　some　San　Francisco　tram…car　checks；　one　cigar；
  no　lights；　the　pass…key　to　his　father's　house；　a　pocket…
  handkerchief；　with　just　a　touch　of　scent：　no；　money　could　be
  raised　on　none　of　these。　　There　was　nothing　for　it　but　to
  starve；　and　after　all；　what　mattered　it？　　That　also　was　a
  door　of　exit。
  He　crept　close　among　the　bushes；　the　wind　playing　round　him
  like　a　lash；　his　clothes　seemed　thin　as　paper；　his　joints
  burned；　his　skin　curdled　on　his　bones。　　He　had　a　vision　of　a
  high…lying　cattle…drive　in　California；　and　the　bed　of　a　dried
  stream　with　one　muddy　pool；　by　which　the　vaqueros　had
  encamped：　splendid　sun　over　all；　the　big　bonfire　blazing；　the
  strips　of　cow　browning　and　smoking　on　a　skewer　of　wood；　how
  warm　it　was；　how　savoury　the　steam　of　scorching　meat！　　And
  then　again　he　remembered　his　manifold　calamities；　and
  burrowed　and　wallowed　in　the　sense　of　his　disgrace　and　shame。
  And　next　he　was　entering　Frank's　restaurant　in　Montgomery
  Street；　San　Francisco；　he　had　ordered　a　pan…stew　and　venison
  chops；　of　which　he　was　immoderately　fond；　and　as　he　sat
  waiting；　Munroe；　the　good　attendant；　brought　him　a　whisky
  punch；　he　saw　the　strawberries　float　on　the　delectable　cup；
  he　heard　the　ice　chink　about　the　straws。　　And　then　he　woke
  again　to　his　detested　fate；　and　found　himself　sitting；　humped
  together；　in　a　windy　combe　of　quarry　refuse　…　darkness　thick
  about　him；　thin　flakes　of　snow　flying　here　and　there　like
  rags　of　paper；　and　the　strong　shuddering　of　his　body　clashing
  his　teeth　like　a　hiccough。
  We　have　seen　John　in　nothing　but　the　stormiest　condition；　we
  have　seen　him　reckless；　desperate；　tried　beyond　his　moderate
  powers；　of　his　daily　self；　cheerful；　regular；　not　unthrifty；
  we　have　seen　nothing；　and　it　may　thus　be　a　surprise　to　the
  reader　to　learn　that　he　was　studiously　careful　of　his　health。
  This　favourite　preoccupation　now　awoke。　　If　he　were　to　sit
  there　and　die　of　cold；　there　would　be　mighty　little　gained；
  better　the　police　cell　and　the　chances　of　a　jury　trial；　than
  the　miserable　certainty　of　death　at　a　dyke…side　before　the
  next　winter's　dawn；　or　death　a　little　later　in　the　gas…
  lighted　wards　of　an　infirmary。
  He　rose　on　aching　legs；　and　stumbled　here　and　there　among　the
  rubbish　heaps；　still　circumvented　by　the　yawning　crater　of
  the　quarry；　or　perhaps　he　only　thought　so；　for　the　darkness
  was　already　dense；　the　snow　was　growing　thicker；　and　he　moved
  like　a　blind　man；　and　with　a　blind　man's　terrors。　　At　last　he
  climbed　a　fence；　thinking　to　drop　into　the　road；　and　found
  himself　staggering；　instead；　among　the　iron　furrows　of　a
  ploughland；　endless；　it　seemed；　as　a　whole　county。　　And　next
  he　was　in　a　wood；　beating　among　young　trees；　and　then　he　was
  aware　of　a　house　with　many　lighted　windows；　Christmas
  carriages　waiting　at　the　doors；　and　Christmas　drivers　（for
  Christmas　has　a　double　edge）　becoming　swiftly　hooded　with
  snow。　　From　this　glimpse　of　human　cheerfulness；　he　fled　like
  Cain；　wandered　in　the　night；　unpiloted；　careless　of　whither
  he　went；　fell；　and　lay；　and　then　rose　again　and　wandered
  further；　and　at　last；　like　a　transformation　scene；　behold　him
  in　the　lighted　jaws　of　the　city；　staring　at　a　lamp　which　had
  already　donned　the　tilted　night…cap　of　the　snow。　　It　came
  thickly　now；　a　'Feeding　Storm'；　and　while　he　yet　stood
  blinking　at　the　lamp；　his　feet　were　buried。　　He　remembered
  something　like　it　in　the　past；　a　street…lamp　crowned　and
  caked　upon　the　windward　side　with　snow；　the　wind　uttering　its
  mournful　hoot；　himself　looking　on；　even　as　now；　but　the　cold
  had　struck　too　sharply　on　his　wits；　and　memory　failed　him　as
  to　the　date　and　sequel　of　the　reminiscence。
  His　next　conscious　moment　was　on　the　Dean　Bridge；　but　whether
  he　was　John　Nicholson　of　a　bank　in　a　California　street；　or
  some　former　John；　a　clerk　in　his　father's　office；　he　had　now
  clean　forgotten。　　Another　blank；　and　he　was　thrusting　his
  pass…key　into　the　door…lock　of　his　father's　house。
  Hours　must　have　passed。　　Whether　crouched　on　the　cold　stones
  or　wandering　in　the　fields　among　the　snow；　was　more　than　he
  could　tell；　but　hours　had　passed。　　The　finger　of　the　hall
  clock　was　close　on　twelve；　a　narrow　peep　of　gas　in　the　hall…
  lamp　shed　shadows；　and　the　door　of　the　back　room　…　his
  father's　room　…　was　open　and　emitted　a　warm　light。　　At　so
  late　an　hour；　all　this　was　strange；　the　lights　should　have
  been　out；　the　doors　locked；　the　good　folk　safe　in　bed。　　He
  marvelled　at　the　irregularity；　leaning　on　the　hall…table；　and
  marvelled　to　himself　there；　and　thawed　and　grew　once　more
  hungry；　in　the　warmer　air　of　the　house。
  The　clock　uttered　its　premonitory　catch；　in　five　minutes
  Christmas…day　would　be　among　the　days　of　the　past　…
  Christmas！　…　what　a　Christmas！　　Well；　there　was　no　use
  waiting；　he　had　come　into　that　house；　he　scarce　knew　how；　if
  they　were　to　thrust　him　forth　again；　it　had　best　be　done　at
  once；　and　he　moved　to　the　door　of　the　back　room　and　entered。
  Oh；　well；　then　he　was　insane；　as　he　had　long　believed。
  There；　in　his　father's　room；　at　midnight；　the　fire　was
  roaring　and　the　gas　blazing；　the　papers；　the　sacred　papers　…
  to　lay　a　hand　on　which　was　criminal　…　had　all　been　taken　off
  and　piled　along　the　floor；　a　cloth　was　spread；　and　a　supper
  laid；　upon　the　business　table；　and　in　his　father's　chair　a
  woman；　habited　like　a　nun；　sat　eating。　　As　he　appeared　in　the
  doorway；　the　nun　rose；　gave　a　low　cry；　and　stood　staring。
  She　was　a　large　woman；　strong；　calm；　a　little　masculine；　her
  features　marked　with　courage　and　good　sense；　and　as　John
  blinked　back　at　her；　a　faint　resemblance　dodged　about　his
  memory；　as　when　a　tune　haunts　us；　and　yet　will　not　be
  recalled。
  'Why；　it's　John！'　cried　the　nun。
  'I　dare　say　I'm　mad；'　said　John；　unconsciously　following　King
  Lear；　'but；　upon　my　word；　I　do　believe　you're　Flora。'
  'Of　course　I　am；'　replied　she。
  And　yet　it　is　not　Flora　at　all；　thought　John；　Flora　was
  slender；　and　timid；　and　of　changing　colour；　and　dewy…eyed；
  and　had　Flora　such　an　Edinburgh　accent？　　But　he　said　none　of
  these　things；　which　was　perhaps　as　well。　　What　he　said　was；
  'Then　why　are　you　a　nun？'
  'Such　nonsense！'　said　Flora。　　'I'm　a　sick…nurse；　and　I　am
  here　nursing　your　sister；　with　whom；　between　you　and　me；
  there　is　precious　little　the　matter。　　But　that　is　not　the
  question。　　The　point　is：　How　do　you　come　here？　and　are　you
  not　ashamed　to　show　yourself？'
  'Flora；'　said　John；　sepulchrally；　'I　haven't　eaten　anything
  for　three　days。　　Or；　at　least；　I　don't　know　what　day　it　is；
  but　I　guess　I'm　starving。'
  'You　unhappy　man！'　she　cried。　　'Here；　sit　down　and　eat　my
  supper；　and　I'll　just　run　upstairs　and　see　my　patient；　not
  but　what　I　doubt　she's　fast　asleep；　for　Maria　is　a　MALADE
  IMAGINAIRE。'
  With　this　specimen　of　the　French；　not　of　Stratford…atte…Bowe；
  but　of　a　finishing　establishment　in　Moray　Place；　she　left
  John　alone　in　his　father's　sanctum。　　He　fell　at　once　upon　the
  food；　and　it　is　to　be　supposed　that　Flora　had　found　her
  patient　wakeful；　and　been　detained　with　some　details　of
  nursing；　for　he　had　time　to　make　a　full　end　of　all　there　was
  to　eat；　and　not　only　to　empty　the　teapot；　but　to　fill　it
  again　from　a　kettle　that　was　fitfully　singing　on　his　father's
  fire。　　Then　he　sat　torpid；　and　pleased；　and　bewildered；　his
  misfortunes　were　then　half　forgotten；　his　mind　considering；
  not　without　regre