None seemed to have a thought for the miserable man smitten down before their very eyes.

All took care to avoid approaching him in their hasty flight.

He lay with his face upturned to the steely, pitiless summer sky.

A woman coming furtively along with a market basket upon her arm suddenly set up a dolorous cry at sight of him, and setting down her basket ran towards him, the tears streaming down her face.
"Why, it is none other than good John Harwood and his wife Elizabeth!" cried Janet, making a forward step.

"Oh, poor creatures, poor creatures! Good aunt, prithee let us do what we can for their relief.