WYLDER'S HAJVD.
289
and-fro upon the earth, telling me the wonders of the
abyss."
"And is it from the abyss, sir, he writes his letters?"
enquired the Town Clerk, with a wink at Lake.
"YeSfc ves, very diligent; it behoves him; and his
hair is aWtis standing straight on his head for fear. But
he'll be sn f up again, at last, a thousand, a hundred, ten
and one, black marble steps, and then it will be the other
one's turn. So it was prophesied by the black magici-
an."
"I thought, sir, you mentioned just now he was a
clergyman," suggested Mr. Wealdon, who evidently enjoy-
ed this wonderful yarn.
"Clergyman and magician both, and the chief of the
lying prophets with thick lips. He'll come here some
night and see you," said Uncle Lorne, looking with a
cadaverous apathy on Lake, who was gazing at him in re-
turn, with a sinister smile.
"Maybe it was a vision, sir," suggested the Town
Clerk.
"Yes, sir; a vision, maybe," echoed the cavernous
tones of the^old man; '' but in the flesh or out of the flesh,
I saw it."
"You have had revelations, sir, I've heard," said Stan-
ley's mocking voice.
"Many," said the seer; "but a prophet is never hon-
ored. We live in solitude and privations — the world
hates us — they stone us — they cut us asunder, even
when we are dead. Feel me — I'm cold and white all
over — I died too soon — I'd have had wings now only for
that pistol. I'm as white as Gehazi, except on my head,
when that blood comes."
Saying which, he rose abruptly, and with long jerking
IS (