CHAPTER IX.
THE FIGURE ON THE HEARTHSTONE.
For a while after Alice left him, Mr. Warren lay perfectly quiet, trying to number the minutes, by counting each tick of the clock, and wondering if it were not time for Alice to return. While thus engaged he fell asleep, and when at last he woke there was a death-like faintness at his heart; his lips were dry and parched, and he felt a strong desire for water with which to quench his burning thirst.
“Alice,” he said feebly, “Alice, is that you? are you here?” but to his call there came no answer, and throughout the room there was heard no sound save the steady ticking of the clock.
Why then did the blind man raise himself upon his elbow and roll his sightless eyes around the silent apartment. Did he hear aught in the deep stillness? He though
