The sluggish darkness thickened as the day came on; and those who had the courage to rise and peep at the gloomy street from their curtained windows, crept back to bed again, and coiled themselves up to sleep.
Before even these indications of approaching morning were rife in busy London, Nicholas had made his way alone to the city, and stood beneath the windows of his mother's house.

It was dull and bare to see, but it had light and life for him; for there was at least one heart within its old walls to which insult or dishonour would bring the same blood rushing, that flowed in his own veins.
He crossed the road, and raised his eyes to the window of the room where he knew his sister slept.

It was closed and dark.

'Poor girl,' thought Nicholas, 'she little thinks who lingers here!' He looked again, and felt, for the moment, almost vexed that Kate was not there to exchange one word at parting.

'Good God!' he thought, suddenly correcting himself, 'what a boy I am!' 'It is better as it is,' said Nicholas, after he had lounged on, a few paces, and returned to the same spot.