He replied, 'To be sure he was a little tired; for he had set out a good hour after me, and I had come at a rare rate. Not but that he could keep his ground, though I was so good a footman; but that it did not become him to make himself my companion.' 'Companion!' said I. 'Why are not you going back to Bath?' 'No: I have taken my leave of it. I shall go and set up my rest in London. I have not been sharking to my master. I thought of it some time since, and gave him fair notice; and more than that, I got him another man in my room; which is all he could demand: and I hope he will serve him as honestly as I have done.' 'What, would you forsake your wife and children?' 'Forsake my wife and children!' [There was a mixed emotion of indignant sorrow and surprize in his countenance.] 'I did not think, Mr. Trevor, you could have believed me to be such a base villain.' 'I do not believe it! I never could believe it! I spoke thoughtlessly. I saw you were too happy together for that to be possible.' 'Forsake my dear Sally, and our Bill, and Bet, and ----? No! I'd sooner take up my axe and chop off my hand! There is not another man in England has such a wife! I have seen bad ones enough; and, for the matter of that, bad husbands too. But that's nothing. If you will do me the favour, I should take it kind of you to let me walk with you, and keep you company, now night is coming on, to the next town; and then you may take some rest, and wait for the stage in the morning. I shall make my way; and find you out, I suppose, fast enough in London.' 'Are you then determined to go to town?' 'Yes: it is all settled. I told Sally; and she did cry a little to be sure: but she was soon satisfied. She knows me; and I never in my life found her piggish. God be her holy keeper!' 'Why then, come along. We'll go together. If I ride, you shall ride: if you walk, so will I.' 'Will you? God bless you! You know how to win a man's heart! There is not so good or so brave a fellow, I mean gentleman, upon the face of the earth, damn me if there is! I beg your pardon! Indeed I do! But you force it out of one! One can't remember to keep one's distance, with you. However, I will try to be more becoming.' The manner of Clarke was more impressive than his words: though they, generally speaking, were not unapt. We pursued our way together, mutually gratified by what had passed. Perhaps there is no sensation that so cheers, and sooths the soul, as the knowledge that there are other human beings, whose happiness seems knitted and bound up with our own; willing to share our fate, receive our favours, and, whenever occasion offers, to return them ten fold! And the pleasure is infinitely increased, when those who are ambitious of being beloved by us seem to feel, and acknowledge, that we have more amply the power of conferring than even of receiving happiness. CHAPTER VI