t the snow was moist and
penetrating, and his threadbare garments were but an insufficient
protection against it. He went back once or twice within the hour to
see if the stage had come. He watched at the door another hour, and
then he was told that there had been an accident on the railway, and
that if the stage came it would go no farther that night, so he had
better not wait longer for it. But he did wait a little. He was
chilled to the bone by this time, and he trembled and crouched over the
fireplace, wondering vaguely what he should do next.

The landlord was a kind-hearted man. He could not but pity the
shivering wretch. He stirred up the fire and set him a chair, and would
gladly have given him a mug of hot drink to revive him, but he dared
not. It would be like putting fire to a heap of flax, he knew. John
Morely might be a madman or a frozen corpse to-morrow if he drank a
single glass to-night. Let him taste it once, and his power of
refraining was gone.

It was a pity, the landlord thought, and it made him uncomfortable for
the moment; and in his discomfort he scolded and frowned, and walked
about the room, till John Morely fancied he was the cause of it all, and
again he took up his bundle to go.

Where was he to go? Utterly faint and weary and sick at heart, he asked
himself the question as he took his way down the encumbered street. The
snow was still falling heavily, and he toiled slowly and painfully
through it. Where could he go? Should he try to get to the station on
foot? It would be madness to think of it. He could never reach home
through the storm. With cold and weariness and want of food, he was
ready to faint. He could not even get home.

There were bright lights streaming from many a window along the village
street; and no doubt there was warmth and plenty within. But there were
no places open to him save those where the devil lay in wait for him;
and he had not courage to face the devil then. He would be too much for
him, weak and miserable as he was; and, for Alice's sake and the
children's, he must keep out of harm's way. He looked about for a
sheltered place, where he might sit down and rest a little. He thought
of Grattan, and struggled on to his gate; but they were either at
meeting, or they had come home and gone to bed; for the house was dark.
There were few lights along the village street now. The snow was
deeper, and he stumbled on blindly, not knowing whither