"The dead abide with us! Though stark and cold
Earth seems to grip them, they are with us still.
They have forged our chains of being for good or ill."
Mathilde Blind.
JOHN was late. Mitty looked out several times to see if he were coming, and then put down the tea-cake to the fire.
At last his step came slowly along the garret gallery, and Lindo, who approved of nursery tea, walked in first, his dignity somewhat impaired by a brier hanging from his back flounce.
John saw the firelight through the open door, and the figure in the low chair waiting for him. She had heard him coming, and was getting stiffly up to make the tea.
"Mitty, you should not wait for me," he said, sitting down in his own place by the fire.
Would they let her keep the brass kettle and her silver teapot? Yes, no doubt they would; but somebody would have to ask. He supposed he should be that somebody. Everything she possessed had been bought by himself with other people's money.
He let the tea last as long as possible. If Lindo had more than his share of tea-cake, no one was the wiser. At last Mitty cleared away, and sat down in the rocking-chair.
"Don't light the candles, Mitty."
"Why not, my dear? I can't be settin' with my hands before me, and holes in your socks a shame to be seen."