'Look'ee here, sir! The very Maypole--the old dumb Maypole--stares in at the winder, as if it said, "John Willet, John Willet, let's go and pitch ourselves in the nighest pool of water as is deep enough to hold us; for our day is over!"' 'Don't, Johnny, don't,' cried his friend: no less affected with this mournful effort of Mr Willet's imagination, than by the sepulchral tone in which he had spoken of the Maypole.

'Please don't, Johnny!' 'Your loss is great, and your misfortune a heavy one,' said Mr Haredale, looking restlessly towards the door: 'and this is not a time to comfort you.

If it were, I am in no condition to do so.

Before I leave you, tell me one thing, and try to tell me plainly, I implore you.

Have you seen, or heard of Emma ?' 'No!' said Mr Willet.
'Nor any one but these bloodhounds ?' 'No!' 'They rode away, I trust in Heaven, before these dreadful scenes began,' said Mr Haredale, who, between his agitation, his eagerness to mount his horse again, and the dexterity with which the cords were tied, had scarcely yet undone one knot.