On they went, in
counterfeited pomp, in senseless uproar, in frenzied merriment,
trampling all on an old man's heart. On swept the tumult, and left a
silent street behind.
* * *
"Well, Robin, are you dreaming?" inquired the gentleman, laying his
hand on the youth's shoulder.
Robin started, and withdrew his arm from the stone post to which
he had instinctively clung, as the living stream rolled by him. His
cheek was somewhat pale and his eye not quite as lively as in the
earlier part of the evening.
"Will you be kind enough to show me the way to the ferry?" said he,
after a moment's pause.
"You have, then, adopted a new subject of inquiry?" observed his
companion, with a smile.
"Why, yes, sir," replied Robin, rather dryly. "Thanks to you, and
to my other friends, I have at last met my kinsman, and he will scarce
desire to see my face again. I begin to grow weary of a town life,
sir. Will you show me the way to the ferry?"
"No, my good friend Robin- not tonight, at least," said the
gentleman. "Some few days hence, if you wish it, I will speed you on
your journey. Or, if you prefer to remain with us, perhaps, as you are
a shrewd youth, you may rise in the world without the help of your
kinsman, Major Molineux.
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