'They are.' 'But for you,' said the outcast, 'I should die.

They would kill me; they would; I know they would.' 'You will do better, poor fellow,' replied Nicholas, shaking his head mournfully, 'when I am gone.' 'Gone!' cried the other, looking intently in his face.
'Softly!' rejoined Nicholas.

'Yes.' 'Are you going ?' demanded the boy, in an earnest whisper.
'I cannot say,' replied Nicholas.

'I was speaking more to my own thoughts, than to you.' 'Tell me,' said the boy imploringly, 'oh do tell me, WILL you go--WILL you ?' 'I shall be driven to that at last!' said Nicholas.

'The world is before me, after all.' 'Tell me,' urged Smike, 'is the world as bad and dismal as this place ?' 'Heaven forbid,' replied Nicholas, pursuing the train of his own thoughts; 'its hardest, coarsest toil, were happiness to this.' 'Should I ever meet you there ?' demanded the boy, speaking with unusual wildness and volubility.
'Yes,' replied Nicholas, willing to soothe him.
'No, no!' said the other, clasping him by the hand.