"Then, Hallings, I must go this very evening--this very moment, to take my farewell look at all that remains--that last remaining portion so sacred to my feelings and to yours." So saying, L---- started from his seat just as Celia entered, followed by her little handmaiden (an orphan relation of her husband's, the adopted child of the worthy couple), and placed on the shining round table a collation of dairy luxuries and fresh-gathered strawberries, hastily arranged with a degree of simple good taste, too nearly approaching elegance to have been acquired by one accustomed only to provide for poor men's tables. Our kind hostess was in no present mood "_gaily_ to press and _smile_," but she did press us to partake of her rustic dainties, with such earnest yet modest importunity, that it would have been worse than churlish to have slighted her invitation, if even my parched and thirsty palate had not made the sight of the creaming milk-bowl, and a second of clear whey, irresistibly tempting. While I did ample justice to the merits of those refreshing fluids, and my friend partook more sparingly, he endeavoured to persuade Hallings from accompanying us, as the old man prepared to do, to a scene, the recollection of which affected him so painfully. But the remonstrance was fruitless. "I have not taken _my own last_ look, sir," was the touching and unanswerable reply; "and that I was minded, please God, to take, when all the workmen had left the place, and I could stand and look my fill at the crumbling wall, without being distracted by their noises, or scoffed at belike for giving way to an old man's weakness. But my master's friend will make allowance for his old servant, and it will do me good to go with you, sir."