The blue-chinned sly clerk, who read the responses, and quavered
the Psalms so demurely, and the white-headed, silver-spectacled, upright
man, in my Lord Castlemallard's pew, who turned over the leaves of his
prayer-book so diligently, saw him as he was, and knew him to be Charles
Archer, and one of these at least, as this dreadful spirit walked, with
his light burning in the noon-day, dogged by inexorable shadows through
a desolate world, in search of peace, he knew to be the slave of his
lamp.
CHAPTER LVII.
IN WHICH DR. TOOLE AND MR. LOWE MAKE A VISIT AT THE MILLS, AND RECOGNISE
SOMETHING REMARKABLE WHILE THERE.
After church, Dr. Toole walking up to the Mills, to pay an afternoon
visit to poor little Mrs. Nutter, was overtaken by Mr. Lowe, the
magistrate who brought his tall, iron-gray hunter to a walk as he
reached him.
'Any tidings of Nutter?' asked he, after they had, in the old world
phrase, given one another the time of day.
'Not a word,' said the doctor; 'I don't know what to make of it; but you
know what's thought. The last place he was seen in was his own garden.
The river was plaguy swollen Friday night, and just where he stood it's
deep enough, I can tell you; often I bathed there when I was a boy.
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