“Despairingly the boy and the phantom passed along the whited high road: two figures with but a single shadow. Where were they going? What home would take them in? Which family would not turn pale with dread and disgust? The boy walked rapidly; the ghost shuffled desolately in his wake. The distance between them never exceeded a yard, hasten as the boy might. Was it possible he was trying to out-distance the ghost? Maybe . . . but his soul was too darkened by the loss of all his hopes to know di...stinctly where he was going, or why. He paused. An iron sound filled the air. The bells of St Michael-on-the-Hill were tolling the hour. Midnight. In the distance other bells likewise beat and swung and chimed. The very night seemed a house of bells; and faintly, in between the chimes, came a sound of laughter, cheering, and delight. Secure in their parlours, warm and gleaming families rejoiced. ‘A happy New Year to you, Mister Corbett,’ wept Benjamin, thinking of where those words might have been spoken: in whose company—and by whose fire.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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