The Dead Alive

l, I was presented to Mr

oom, in attendance on her father. She was a melancholy, middle-aged woman, without visible attractions of any sort — one of those persons who appear to accept the obligation of living under protest, as a burden which they

ine o’clock, sir,” s

bitually committed by the men, and endured by the women. I followed the groo

d no romanc

quotation from Scripture in emblazoned letters of red and black. The dismal presence of Miss Meadowcroft had passed over my bedroom, and had blighted it. My spirits sank as I looked round me. Supper-time was still an event in the future. I lighted the candles and took from my portmanteau what I firmly believe to have been the first French n

of the stairs, and showed m

ft of her father. Silas Meadowcroft came in at the same moment, and was presented to me by his brother. There was a strong family likeness between them, Ambrose being the taller and the handsomer man of the tw

honestly confess, being very favorably impressed by either of them. A new memb

merica. As to the upper part of the face, it was irradiated by a pair of wild, glittering brown eyes, the expression of which suggested to me that there was something not quite right with the man’s mental balance. A perfectly sane person in all his sayings and doings, so far as I could see, there was still somethin

to me, with a side-glance at his sons, which had something like defiance in it — a glance whic

is an American, Philip. I hope you have no prejudice against Americans. Make acquaintance with Mr. Jago. Sit together.” He cast another dark look at his sons; and the sons again returned it. They pointedly drew back from John Jago as he app

young lady quietly joined t

looked at Ambrose, and saw the answe

slight little figure — too slight for our English notions of beauty; a strong American accent; and (a rare thing in America) a pleasantly toned voice, which made the accent agreeable to English ears. Our first impressions of people are, in nine cases out of ten, the r

e friends from first to last. Ambrose made room for Naomi to sit between his brother and himself. She changed color for a moment, and looked at him, with

cheerful conversation was the conversat

. Even when he spoke to Mr. Meadowcroft, he was still on his guard — on his guard against the two young men, as I fancied by the direction which his eyes took on these occasions. When we began our meal, I had noticed for the first time that Silas Mead

y remark of mine about animals in general, and applied it satirically to the mismanagement of sheep and oxen in particular, they looked at John Jago, while they talked to me. On occasions of this sort — and they happened frequently — Naomi struck in resolutely at the right moment, and turned the talk to some harmless topic. Every time she took a prominent part in this way in keeping the peace, melancholy Miss Meadowcroft looked slowly round at her in stern and silent disparagement of her interference

profusion, was at an end. Miss Meadowcroft rose with her g

the farm, Mr. Lefrank.

chair, cut him short in his farewell salutation to me, and wheele

? If not, may I offer you a cigar — prov

side-look at them, Mr. John Jago performed the duties of hospitality on his side. I excused myself from accepting the

hed me hospitably, with their

Ambrose began. “Never smoke with Joh

you,” added Silas. “He is the greatest lia

fully at them, as if the two sturdy

in that way of a person whom your father respects an

mbrose stood his ground, evidently bent on ma

e. The grand repose of nature had never looked so unutterably solemn and beautiful as it now appeared, after what I had seen and heard inside the house. I understood, or thought I understood, the sad despair of humanity which led men into monasteries in the old t