CHAPTER TWO.
THE LIVING AMONG THE DEAD.
The household of Maxfield, worn-out by the excitement of the night, slept, or rather lay in bed, till hard on midday.
The tutor, as he slowly turned on his side and caught sight of the winter sun through the frost-bespangled window, felt profoundly disinclined to rise.

He shrank from the tasks that awaited him--the task of witnessing the grief of the widow and the pale looks of the orphan heir, the dismal negotiations with undertakers and clergymen and lawyers, the stupid questions of the domestics, the sickly fragrance of stephanotis in the house.

Then, too, there was the awkward uncertainty as to his own future.

What effect would the tragedy of last night have on that?
Was it a notice to quit, or what?
He should be sorry to go.
He liked the place, he liked his pupil, and further, he had nowhere else to go.

Altogether Mr Armstrong felt very reluctant to exchange his easy bed for the chances and changes of the waking world.