"What an absurd figure the old fellow cuts now!" whispered he to

Hepzibah. "Just when he fancied he had me completely under his thumb!

Come, come; make haste! or he will start up, like Giant Despair in

pursuit of Christian and Hopeful, and catch us yet!"

As they passed into the street, Clifford directed Hepzibah's attention

to something on one of the posts of the front door. It was merely the

initials of his own name, which, with somewhat of his characteristic

grace about the forms of the letters, he had cut there when a boy. The

brother and sister departed, and left Judge Pyncheon sitting in the old

home of his forefathers, all by himself; so heavy and lumpish that we


can liken him to nothing better than a defunct nightmare, which had

perished in the midst of its wickedness, and left its flabby corpse on

the breast of the tormented one, to be gotten rid of as it might!