‘The Spirit of the Chimes is your companion,’ said the figure.
‘Go! It stands behind you!’
Trotty turned, and saw—the child! The child Will Fern had carried in the street; the child whom Meg had watched, but now, asleep!
‘I carried her myself, to-night,’ said Trotty. ‘In these arms!’
‘Show him what he calls himself,’ said the dark figures, one and all.
The tower opened at his feet. He looked down, and beheld his own form, lying at the bottom, on the outside: crushed and motionless.
‘No more a living man!’ cried Trotty. ‘Dead!’
‘Dead!’ said the figures all together.
‘Gracious Heaven! And the New Year—’
‘Past,’ said the figures.