"Berries, eh?" said the old man. "Ah! It's a pity they're not
good to eat. I recollect, when I was a little chap about as high
as that, and out a walking with--let me see--who was I out a
walking with?--no, I don't remember how that was. I don't remember
as I ever walked with any one particular, or cared for any one, or
any one for me. Berries, eh? There's good cheer when there's
berries. Well; I ought to have my share of it, and to be waited
on, and kept warm and comfortable; for I'm eighty-seven, and a poor
old man. I'm eigh-ty-seven. Eigh-ty-seven!"

The drivelling, pitiable manner in which, as he repeated this, he
nibbled at the leaves, and spat the morsels out; the cold,
uninterested eye with which his youngest son (so changed) regarded
him; the determined apathy with which his eldest son lay hardened
in his sin; impressed themselves no more on Redlaw's observation,--
for he broke his way from the spot to which his feet seemed to have
been fixed, and ran out of the house.

His guide came crawling forth from his place of refuge, and was
ready for him before he reached the arches.

"Back to the woman's?" he inquired.

"Back, quickly!" answered Redlaw. "Stop nowhere on the way!"

For a short distance the boy went on before; but their return was
more like a flight than a walk, and it was as much as his bare feet
could do, to keep pace with the Chemist's rapid strides. Shrinking
from all who passed, shrouded in his cloak, and keeping it drawn