'I wish you had walked in though, rather than waited
here.'

'There is nobody at home, I find,' Mr Haredale answered; 'besides, I
desired to be as private as I could.'

'Humph!' muttered the locksmith, looking round at his house. 'Gone with
Simon Tappertit to that precious Branch, no doubt.'

Mr Haredale invited him to come into the coach, and, if he were not
tired or anxious to go home, to ride with him a little way that they
might have some talk together. Gabriel cheerfully complied, and the
coachman mounting his box drove off.

'Varden,' said Mr Haredale, after a minute's pause, 'you will be amazed
to hear what errand I am on; it will seem a very strange one.'

'I have no doubt it's a reasonable one, sir, and has a meaning in it,'
replied the locksmith; 'or it would not be yours at all. Have you just
come back to town, sir?'

'But half an hour ago.'

'Bringing no news of Barnaby, or his mother?' said the locksmith
dubiously. 'Ah! you needn't shake your head, sir. It was a wild-goose
chase. I feared that, from the first. You exhausted all reasonable means
of discovery when they went away. To begin again after so long a time
has passed is hopeless, sir--quite hopeless.'

'Why, where are they?' he returned impatiently. 'Where can they be?
Above ground?'

'God knows,' rejoined the locksmith, 'many that I knew above it five
years ago, have their beds under the grass now. And the world is a
wide place. It's a hopeless attempt, sir, believe me. We must leave the
discovery of this mystery, like all others, to time, and accident, and
Heaven's pleasure.'

'Varden, my good fellow,' said Mr Haredale, 'I have a deeper meaning in
my present anxiety to find them out, than you can fathom. It is not a
mere whim; it is not the casual revival of my old wishes and desires;
but an earnest, solemn purpose. My thoughts and dreams all tend to it,
and fix it in my mind. I have no rest by day or night; I have no peace
or quiet; I am haunted.'

His voice was so altered from its usual tones, and his manner bespoke
so much emotion, that Gabriel, in his wonder, could only sit and look
towards him in the darkness, and fancy the expression of his face.

'Do not ask me,' continued Mr Haredale, 'to explain myself. If I were to
do so, you would think me the victim of some hideous fancy. It is enough
that this is so, and that I cannot--no, I can not--lie quietly in my
bed, without doing what will seem to you incomprehensible.'

'Since