m followed by my mother; I remained alone, supporting the
senseless form of my father; the light had been extinguished by the fall,
and an almost total darkness reigned in the room. The form pressed
heavily against my bosom--at last methought it moved. Yes, I was right,
there was a heaving of the breast, and then a gasping. Were those words
which I heard? Yes, they were words, low and indistinct at first, and
then audible. The mind of the dying man was reverting to former scenes.
I heard him mention names which I had often heard him mention before. It
was an awful moment; I felt stupefied, but I still contrived to support
my dying father.

There was a pause, again my father spoke: I heard him speak of Minden,
and of Meredith, the old Minden sergeant, and then he uttered another
name, which at one period of his life was much in his lips, the name of
. . . but this is a solemn moment! There was a deep gasp: I shook, and
thought all was over; but I was mistaken--my father moved, and revived
for a moment; he supported himself in bed without my assistance. I make
no doubt that for a moment he was perfectly sensible, and it was then
that, clasping his hands, he uttered another name clearly, distinctly--it
was the name of Christ. With that name upon his lips, the brave old
soldier sank back upon my bosom, and, with his hands still clasped,
yielded up his soul.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THE GREETING--QUEER FIGURE--CHEER UP--THE CHEERFUL FIRE--THE
TREPIDATION--LET HIM COME IN

'One-and-ninepence, sir, or the things which you have brought with you
will be taken away from you!'

Such were the first words which greeted my ears, one damp misty morning
in March, as I dismounted from the top of a coach in the yard of a London
inn.

I turned round, for I felt that the words were addressed to myself.
Plenty of people were in the yard--porters, passengers, coachmen,
hostlers, and others, who appeared to be intent on anything but myself,
with the exception of one individual, whose business appeared to lie with
me, and who now confronted me at the distance of about two yards.

I looked hard at the man--and a queer kind of individual he was to look
at--a rakish figure, about thirty, and of the middle size, dressed in a
coat smartly cut, but threadbare, very tight pantaloons of blue stuff,
tied at the ankles, dirty white stockings and thin shoes, like those of a
dancing-master; his features were not ugly, but rather hagg