The young physician drew back, as if in danger of contamination.
'Your money perish with you!' he said, solemnly. 'Think you charity
consists in bank notes?'
The doctor turned and reentered the chamber; and Hiram Meeker proceeded
slowly down the stairs and into the street.
His thoughts, as he walked homeward, were not of an enviable nature. I
confess I have no desire to attempt to portray them.
CHAPTER VII.
Hiram's slumbers that night were much disturbed.
His rest was broken by strange dreams, frightful or preposterous, which,
running into each other, became blended in a confused mass of floating
fancies.
At last he woke. He opened big eyes. It was perfectly dark.
* * * * *
Suddenly he realized just what he was. No business--no money--no
earth--no foothold--nothing but a naked soul.
Hiram lay breathing with slow respirations. Even his piety was not
present to support him. The world was swept from under him.
Then came a stern sense--a patent conviction--of all he had counted on:
nothing--nothing!
He turned over, and fell asleep again. But still refreshing slumber was
denied him; still were the night visions terrifying.
At last these appeared to take a definite shape. Heaving, working,
revolving, the chaotic mass assumed form and grew luminous.
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