How black it grows! We must be gone by nightfall, squire.

Where's that young dog gone?
Arter the larks, the brute.' Old Squire Lavington sobbed like a child.
'You will soon be home, my man,' said the vicar.

'Remember that you have a Saviour in heaven.

Cast yourself on His mercy.' Harry shook his head.
'Very good words, very kind,--very heavy gamebag, though.

Never get home, never any more at all.