at the forge all the days of my life than I would
ever have come to this!

But there was no staving off the question, What was to be done?

"The first and the main thing to be done," said Herbert, "is to get him
out of England. You will have to go with him, and then he may be induced
to go."

"But get him where I will, could I prevent his coming back?"

"My good Handel, is it not obvious that with Newgate in the next street,
there must be far greater hazard in your breaking your mind to him and
making him reckless, here, than elsewhere. If a pretext to get him away
could be made out of that other convict, or out of anything else in his
life, now."

"There, again!" said I, stopping before Herbert, with my open hands held
out, as if they contained the desperation of the case. "I know nothing
of his life. It has almost made me mad to sit here of a night and see
him before me, so bound up with my fortunes and misfortunes, and yet so
unknown to me, except as the miserable wretch who terrified me two days
in my childhood!"

Herbert got up, and linked his arm in mine, and we slowly walked to and
fro together, studying the carpet.

"Handel," said Herbert, stopping, "you feel convinced that you can take
no further benefits from him; do you?"

"Fully. Surely you would, too, if you were in my place?"

"And you feel convinced that you must break with him?"

"Herbert, can you ask me?"

"And you have, and are bound to have, that tenderness for the life he
has risked on your account, that you must save him, if possible, from
throwing it away. Then you must get him out of England before you stir a
finger to extricate yourself. That done, extricate yourself, in Heaven's
name, and we'll see it out together, dear old boy."

It was a comfort to shake hands upon it, and walk up and down again,
with only that done.

"Now, Herbert," said I, "with reference to gaining some knowledge of
his history. There is but one way that I know of. I must ask him point
blank."

"Yes. Ask him," said Herbert, "when we sit at breakfast in the morning."
For he had said, on taking leave of Herbert, that he would come to
breakfast with us.

With this project formed, we went to bed. I had the wildest dreams
concerning him, and woke unrefreshed; I woke, too, to recover the fear
which I had lost in the night, of his being found out as a returned
transport. Waking, I never lost that fear.

He came round at the appointed time, took out his jackkn