"That was before you began to lose your recollection, you know," said Nicholas quietly. "Was the weather hot or cold?"
"Wet," replied the boy. "Very wet. I have always said when it rained hard that it was like the night I came: and they used to crowd round and laugh to see me cry when the rain fell heavily. It was like a child they said, and that made me think of it more. I turned cold all over sometimes, for I could see myself as I was then, coming in at the very same door."
"As you were then," repeated Nicholas, with assumed carelessness; "How was that?"
"Such a little creature," said Smike, "that they might have had pity and mercy upon me, only to remember it."
"You didn't find your way there alone!" remarked Nicholas.
"No," rejoined Smike, "oh no."
"Who was with you?"
"A man—a dark withered man; I have heard them say so at the school, and I remembered that before. I was glad to leave him, I was afraid of him; but they made me more afraid of them, and used me harder too."
"Look at me," said Nicholas, wishing to attract his full attention. "There; don't turn away. Do you remember no woman, no kind gentle woman, who hung over you once, and kissed your lips, and called you her child?"
"No," said the poor creature, shaking his head, "no, never."
"Nor any house but that house in Yorkshire?"
"No," rejoined the youth, with a melancholy look: "a room—I remember I slept in a room, a large lonesome room at the top of a house, where there was a trap-door in the ceiling. I have covered my head with the clothes often, not to see it, for it frightened me, a young child with no one near at night, and I used to wonder what was on the other side. There was a clock too, an old clock, in one corner. I remember that. I have never forgotten that room, for when I have terrible dreams, it comes back just as it was. I see things and people in it that I had never seen then, but there is the room just as it used to be; that never changes."
"Will you let me take the bundle now?" asked Nicholas, abruptly changing the theme.
"No," said Smike, "no. Come, let us walk on."
He quickened his pace as he said this, apparently under the impression that they had been standing still during the whole of the previous dialogue. Nicholas marked him closely, and every word of this conversation remained indelibly fastened in his memory.
It was by this time within an hour of noon, and although a dense vapour still enveloped the city they had left as if the very breath of its busy people hung over their schemes of gain and profit and found greater attraction there than in the quiet region above, in the open country it was clear and fair. Occasionally in some low spots they came upon patches of mist which the sun had not yet driven from their strongholds; but these were soon passed, and as they laboured up the
