It was the beginning of a day in June; the deep blue sky unsullied by a cloud, and teeming with brilliant light. The streets were as yet free of passengers, the houses and shops were closed, and the healthy air of morning fell like breath from angels on the sleeping town. The old man and the child passed on through the glad silence, elate with hope and pleasure. Every object was bright and fresh; nothing reminded them, otherwise than by contrast, of the monotony and restraint they had left behind. Forth from the city, while it yet slumbered, went the two poor adventurers, wandering they knew not whither, often pressing each other's hands, or exchanging a smile, as they pursued their way through the city streets, through the haunts of traffic and great commerce, where business was already rife. The old man looked about him with a bewildered gaze, for these were places that he hoped to shun, nor did he seem at ease until at last they felt that they were clear of London, and sat down to rest, and eat their frugal breakfast from little Nell's basket. The freshness of the day, the singing of the birds, the beauty of the waving grass, the wild flowers, and the thousand exquisite scents and sounds that floated in the air, sunk into their breasts, and made them very glad. The child had repeated her artless prayers once that morning, more earnestly, perhaps, than she had ever done in her life; but as she felt all this, they rose to her lips again. The old man took off his hat--he had no memory for the words--but he said Amen, and that they were very good. "Are you tired?" asked the child. "Are you sure you don't feel ill from this long walk?" "I shall never feel ill again, now that we are once away," was his reply. "Let us be stirring, Nell. We are too near to stop and be at rest. Come!"