I cannot go--no, believe me, I cannot--I dare not.
Take me, Ralph; have mercy on me; do not despise me for the coward that I am; it's enough to make me curse the great God--no, no; not that neither.

But, Ralph, Ralph--" The poor fellow would have fallen breathless and exhausted at Ralph's feet, but he held him up and spoke firmly but kindly to him,-- "Bravely, Sim; bravely, man; there," he said, as the tailor regained some composure.
"You sha'n't go back to-night.

How wet you are, though! There's not a dry rag to your body, man.

You must first return with me to the fire at the Red Lion, and then we'll go--" "No, no, no!" cried Sim; "not there either--never there; better the wind and rain, aye, better anything, than that." And he turned his head over his shoulder as though peering into the darkness behind.

Ralph understood him.