She is yours if you choose to join us." "Ay, stop with us," cried a young and very pretty woman, taking his hand and drawing him towards the company who were dancing beneath the aisles.
But Leonard disengaged himself, and hurried away amid the laughter and hootings of the assemblage.

The streets, despite their desolate appearance, were preferable to the spot he had just quitted, and he seemed to breathe more freely when he got to a little distance from the polluted fane.

He had now entered Wood-street, but all was as still as death, and he paused to gaze up at his master's window, but there was no one at it.

Many a lover, unable to behold the object of his affections, has in some measure satisfied the yearning of his heart by gazing at her dwelling, and feeling he was near her.

Many a sad heart has been cheered by beholding a light at a window, or a shadow on its closed curtains, and such would have been Leonard's feelings if he had not been depressed by the thought of Amabel's precarious state of health.
While thus wrapt in mournful thought, he observed three figures slowly approaching from the further end of the street, and he instinctively withdrew into a doorway.