Chapter2 The Gift Diffused A small man sat in a small parlour, partitioned off from a small shop by a small screen, pasted all over with small scraps of newspapers. In company with the small man, was almost

Come to the light!” When, as he held the curtain with one hand, and with the other raised the lamp and tried to pierce the gloom that filled the place, something rushed past him into the room like a wild-cat,

“I tremble with distrust and doubt of you; and the dim fear you cast upon me deepens into a nameless horror I can hardly bear. — I would not deprive myself of any kindly recollection, or any sympathy that

“They come back to me in music, in the wind, in the dead stillness of the night, in the revolving years.” “ — Pictures of my own domestic life, in aftertime, with her who was the inspiration of my toil.

“Why do you come, to haunt me thus?” “I come as I am called,” replied the Ghost. “No. Unbidden,” exclaimed the Chemist. “Unbidden be it,” said the Spectre. “It is enough. I am here.” Hitherto the light

William, my boy, turn the lamp, and rouse the fire!” Milly’s voice resumed, like quiet music very softly played: “He muttered in his broken sleep yesterday afternoon, after talking to me” (this was to

Swidger, “that’s what I say myself. It wasn’t made to be afraid of. It wouldn’t have been made so mild, if that was the intention. But I wouldn’t like to — Milly! — him, you know. Down in the Buildings.”

“You ARE a Swidger, if ever there was one of the family!” “Dear!” said the old man, shaking his head as he again looked at the holly. “His mother — my son William’s my youngest son — and I, have sat among

To whom would its repose and peace have not appealed against disturbance, like the innocent slumber of a child! “Punctual, of course, Milly,” said her husband, relieving her of the tray, “or it wouldn’t

Why, what with cousins, uncles, aunts, and relationships of this, that, and t’other degree, and whatnot degree, and marriages, and lyings-in, the Swidgers — Tumbler — might take hold of hands, and make

When he took no heed of them, with his bodily eyes; but, let them come or let them go, looked fixedly at the fire. You should have seen him, then. When the sounds that had arisen with the shadows, and

His dwelling, at its heart and core — within doors — at his fireside — was so lowering and old, so crazy, yet so strong, with its worn-eaten beams of wood in the ceiling, and its sturdy floor shelving