THE LIEUTENANT'S STORY CONCLUDED. 295 
An agony swept across the face of her husband as he 
knelt beside her, taking her cold hands — ah, so thin ! — 
in his own, chafing and kissing them by turns. 
Above his head, on the white-washed wall, was the 
word " JOHN," in large, bright letters. It was his name ; 
she had crept from her bed and traced it upon the frosty 
window-pane, so that the light from a far-off street-lamp 
shone through the clear lines, and thus reproduced them 
upon the opposite wall. Just beneath was " Merry 
Christmas'' She thought it would please him, and seem 
like a sort of decoration hung there above her bed. And 
now he was kneeling by her side, and holding her thin 
hands. Perhaps he was more discouraged than ever just 
then. Oh, Shadow, Shadow, could you not have spared 
him this ! 
Mr. Broadstreet hung the wreath he had bought upon 
the bedpost, and waited helplessly. A mist gathered in 
his eyes, so that he could not see ; the walls of the little 
dismal chamber wavered to and fro ; the Shadow grew 
more and more dense, until it seemed to assume definite 
shape, the shape of Christmas Present, sitting, as before, 
enthroned amidst plenty and good cheer ; the deep-toned 
bells in a neighboring church-tower slowly and solemnly 
tolled twelve strokes, answered by the silver chime of a 
clock ; the flames of the open fire rose and fell fitfully, in 
mute answer to the blasts of wind that roared about the 
chimney top. The Ghost dwindled rapidly, the Discour- 
aged Man assumed the proportions and appearance of a 
