s. But Christmas came and went, and Goldthorpe was
still at his mother's house.

Meanwhile the manuscript had gone from publisher to publisher, and at
length, on a day in January--date ever memorable in Goldthorpe's
life--there arrived a short letter in which a certain firm dryly intimated
their approval of the story offered them, and their willingness to purchase
the copyright for a sum of fifty pounds. The next morning the triumphant
author travelled to London. For two or three days a violent gale had been
blowing, with much damage throughout the country; on his journey Goldthorpe
saw many great trees lying prostrate, beaten, as though scornfully, by the
cold rain which now descended in torrents. Arrived in town, he went to the
house where he had lodged in the time of comparative prosperity, and there
was lucky enough to find his old rooms vacant. On the morrow he called upon
the gracious publishers, and after that, under a sky now become more
gentle, he took his way towards the abode of Mr. Spicer.

Eager to communicate the joyous news, glad in the prospect of seeing his
simple-hearted friend, he went at a great pace up the ascending road. There
were the three houses, looking drearier than ever in a faint gleam of
winter sunshine. There were his old windows. But--what had happened to the
roof? He stood in astonishment and apprehension, for, just above the room
where he had dwelt, the roof was an utter wreck, showing a great hole, as
if something had fallen upon it with crushing weight. As indeed was the
case; evidently the chimney-stack had come down, and doubtless in the
recent gale. Seized with anxiety on Mr. Spicer's account, he ran round to
the back of the garden and tried the door; but it was locked as usual. He
strained to peer over the garden wall, but could discover nothing that
threw light on his friend's fate; he noticed, however, a great grove of
dead, brown artichoke stems, seven or eight feet high. Looking up at the
back windows, he shouted Mr. Spicer's name; it was useless. Then, in
serious alarm, he betook himself to the house on the other side of the
passage, knocked at the door, and asked of the woman who presented herself
whether anything was known of a gentleman who dwelt where the chimney-stack
had just fallen. News was at once forthcoming; the event had obviously
caused no small local excitement. It was two days since the falling of the
chimney, which happened towards evening, when the gale blew i