And then a great, round,
leaden-looking, and not at all transparent tear, came rolling out of
each eye, and he said, as he shook his head:
'If they'd only had the goodness to murder me, I'd have thanked 'em
kindly.'
'No, no, no, don't say that, Johnny,' whimpered his little friend. 'It's
very, very bad, but not quite so bad as that. No, no!'
'Look'ee here, sir!' cried John, turning his rueful eyes on Mr Haredale,
who had dropped on one knee, and was hastily beginning to untie
his bonds. 'Look'ee here, sir! The very Maypole--the old dumb
Maypole--stares in at the winder, as if it said, "John Willet, John
Willet, let's go and pitch ourselves in the nighest pool of water as is
deep enough to hold us; for our day is over!"'
'Don't, Johnny, don't,' cried his friend: no less affected with this
mournful effort of Mr Willet's imagination, than by the sepulchral tone
in which he had spoken of the Maypole. 'Please don't, Johnny!'
'Your loss is great, and your misfortune a heavy one,' said Mr Haredale,
looking restlessly towards the door: 'and this is not a time to comfort
you. If it were, I am in no condition to do so. Before I leave you, tell
me one thing, and try to tell me plainly, I implore you.
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