like a person trying to rouse himself from sleep or
nightmare. Passing the mirror, he involuntarily started at the haggard
paleness of his face under the clustering black hair. He was trying to
shake something off. He went uneasily about the room until he had lighted
a match, and a candle, with which he went into the next room, still
half-looking over his shoulder, as if fearing that something dogged him.
He opened the closet where he kept his wine. He restlessly filled a large
glass and poured it down his throat--not as if he were drinking, but as
if he were taking an antidote. He rubbed his forehead with his hand, and
half-smiled a sickly smile.

But still his eyes wandered nervously to the spot in which his uncle
had stood; still he seemed to fear that he should see a ghostly figure
standing there and pointing at him; should see himself, in some phantom
counterpart, sitting in the chair. His eyes opened as if he were
listening intently. For in the midnight he thought he heard, in that dim
light he thought he saw, the Prophet and the King. He did not remember
more the words his uncle had spoken. But he heard only, "Thou art the
man! Thou art the man!"

And all night long, as he dreamed or restlessly awoke, he heard the same
words, spoken as if with finger pointed--"Thou art the man! Thou art the
man!"

CHAPTER LII.

BREAKERS.

Lawrence Newt had certainly told the truth of his brother's home. Mr.
Boniface Newt had become so surly that it was not wise to speak to him.
He came home late, and was angry if dinner were not ready, and cross if
it were. He banged all the doors, and swore at all the chairs. After
dinner he told May not to touch the piano, and begged his wife, for
Heaven's sake, to take up some book, and not to sit with an air of
imbecile vacancy that was enough to drive a man distracted. He snarled at
the servants, so that they went about the house upon tip-toe and fled his
presence, and were constantly going away, causing Mrs. Newt to pass many
hours of the week in an Intelligence Office. Mr. Newt found holes in the
carpets, stains upon the cloths, knocks upon the walls, nicks in the
glasses and plates at table, scratches upon the furniture, and defects
and misfortunes every where. He went to bed without saying good-night,
and came down without a good-morning. He sat at breakfast morose and
silent; or he sighed, and frowned, and muttered, and went out without a
smile or a good-by. There was a p