A Vanishing Gleam
MR TULLIVER, evewees of spasmodic rigidity which had recurred at intervals ever since he had been found fallen from his horse, was usually in so apathetic a dition that the exits arances into his room were not felt to be of great importance. He had lain so still, with his eyes closed, all this m, that Maggie told her aunt Moss she must not expect her father to take any notice of them. They entered very quietly, and Mrs Moss took her seat he head of the bed, while Maggie sat in her old pla the bed, and put her hand on her fathers, without causing any ge in his face.
Mr Glegg and Tom had also ereading softly, and were busy seleg the key of the old oak chest from the bunch whi had brought from his fathers bureau. They succeeded in opening the chest - which stood opposite the foot of Mr Tullivers bed - and propping the lid with the iron holder, without muoise.
`Theres a tin box, whispered Mr Glegg, `hed most like put a small thing like a note in there. Lift it out, Tom; but Ill just lift up these deeds - theyre the deeds o the house and mill, I suppose - and see what there is under em.
Mr Glegg had lifted out the parts and had fortunately drawn back a little, when the iron have way, and the heavy lid fell with a loud bang that resounded over the house.
Perhaps there was something in that sound more than the mere fact of the strong vibration that produced the instantaneous effe the frame of the prostrate man, and for the time pletely shook off the obstru of paralysis. The chest had beloo his father and his fathers father, and it had always been rather a solemn busio visit it. All long-known objects, even a mere window-fastening or a particular door latch, have sounds which are a sort nised voice to us - a voice that will thrill and awake has beeo touch deep-lying fibres. In the same moment when all the eyes in the room were turned upon him, he started up and looked at the chest, the parts in Mr Gleggs hand, and Tom holding the tin box, with a glance of perfect sciousness and reition.
`What are you going to do with those deeds? he said, in his ordinary tone of sharp questioning whenever he was irritated. `e here, Tom. What do you do, going to my chest?
Tom obeyed, with some trembling: it was the first time his father had reised him. But instead of saying anything more to him, his father tio look with a growing distiness of suspi at Mr Glegg and the deeds.
`Whats been happening then? he said, sharply. `What are you meddling with my deeds for? Is Wakem laying hold of everything?... Why dont you tell me what youve been a-doing? he added, impatiently, as Mr Glegg advao the foot of the bed before speaking.
`No, no, friend Tulliver, said Mr Glegg, in a soothing tone. `Nobodys getting hold of anything as yet. We only came to look and see what was in the chest. Youve been ill, you know, and weve had to look after things a bit. But lets hope youll soon be well enough to attend to everything yourself.
Mr Tulliver looked round him meditatively - at Tom, at Mr Glegg and at Maggie; then suddenly appearing aware that some one was seated by his side at the head of the bed, he turned sharply round and saw his sister.
`Eh, Gritty! he said in the half-sad, affeate tone in which he had been wont to speak to her, `what, youre there, are you? How could you mao leave the children?
`O, brother! said good Mrs Moss, too impulsive to be prudent, `Im thankful Im e now to see y