“No!” he cried aloud, “I will not! I will not pray for that! I will not fare better than my fellows!--Oh God, pity--if thou hast any pity, or if pity can be born of any prayer--pity thy creatures! If thou art anywhere, speak to me, and let me hear thee. If thou art God, if thou livest, and carest that I suffer, and wouldst help me if thou couldst, then I will live, and bear, and wait; only let me know that thou art, and art good, and not cruel. If I had but a friend that would stand by me, and talk to me a little, and help me! I have no one, no one, God, to speak to! and if thou wilt not hear, then there is nothing! Oh, be! be! God, I pray thee, exist! Thou knowest my desolation--for surely thou art desolate, with no honest heart to love thee!” He thought of Barbara, and ceased: _she_ loved God! A silence came down upon his soul. Ere it passed he was asleep, and knew no more till the morning waked him--to sorrow indeed, but from a dream of hope. On a few-keyed finger-board, yet with multitudinous change, life struck every interval betwixt keen sorrow, lethargic gloom, and grayest hope, and the days passed and passed. CHAPTER XLIII. _TO BE REDEEMED, ONE MUST REDEEM_. The moment he received his wages from his father at the end of the week, Richard set out for Everilda street, Clerkenwell, a little anxious at the thought of encountering the dreadful mother, but hoping she would be out of the way. When he reached the place, he found no one at home. He could not go back with his mission unaccomplished, and hung about, keeping a sharp watch on each end of the street, and on the approaches to it that he passed in walking to and fro. He had not waited long before Arthur appeared, stooping like an aged man, and moving slowly He was in the same shabby muffler as of old. His face brightened when he saw his friend, but a fit of coughing prevented him for some time from returning his salutation. “When did you have your dinner?” asked Richard. “I had something to eat in the middle of the day,” he answered feebly; “and when Alice comes, she will perhaps bring something with her; but we don't care much about eating.--We've got out of the way of it somehow!” he added with an unreal laugh. “It's no wonder you can't get rid of your cold!” returned Richard. “Come along, and have something to eat.” “I can't have Ally come home and not find me!” objected Arthur. “You shall put something in your pocket for her!” suggested Richard. He seemed to yield; but his every motion was full of indecision. Richard took his arm. “Do you know any place near,” he asked, “where we could get some supper?” “No, I'm afraid I don't,” answered Arthur. “Then you go in and rest, while I go and see,” returned Richard. He searched for some time, but came upon no place where a man could even sit down. At last he found a coffee-shop, and went to fetch Arthur.