Sainsbury and her daughters were now at home, I was easily prevailed
on to prolong my visit for a few days before I departed for
Lincolnshire. The moment I entered the house, the rooms and their
associations recalled to me forcibly the mysterious Pair, whose
proceedings had filled my mind with so much of curiosity and interest
when I was last a sojourner in the abode. During my residence in
Germany I had not forgotten them; and although the austerity of my
pursuits in that country had schooled my fancy to a soberer pace, I
could not forbear from enquiring, in one or two letters which I had
occasion to write to the younger Sainsbury, whether the milkman of
Walworth and his Shadow still pursued their rounds uninterrupted, or
if any thing had transpired that could enlighten our conjectures on
their history. My correspondent always neglected, or forgot, to
satisfy me in this particular; and it was therefore with something, I
am ashamed to say, nearly approaching to anxiety, that on the morning
after my arrival--for the gay variety of the social circle had
monopolized my attention until then--I once more, after so long an
interval, seated myself in the library window, under pretence of
seeking a passage in Herder, which I had quoted for Julia Sainsbury
the preceding evening, and awaited the hour of noon.

And there, before the clock of the neighbouring church had ceased
striking, with the selfsame step, in the same subdued attire in which
I saw him four years ago, came gliding up the street the dark, sullen
milkman; and there, too, close behind him as ever, followed his
shadowy companion! It is in vain to deny it. I could feel my heart
beating audibly when I beheld them, as if they were unsubstantial
visitants, whose appearance I expected the grave would have
interdicted from my eyes for ever. It was a dim, bitter, wintry day,
and showers of sleet were drifting heavily on the fierce and angry
wind, soaking the man's garments through and through, and sweeping
aside the thin habiliments of the female, as though they would tear
them from her slender form, and leave it a prey to the keen wrath of
the elements. Yet the Pair passed upon their way, seemingly regardless
of weather that had banished all other creatures from the streets. As
they stopped beneath the window where I sat, I scrutinized them
eagerly, to see whether time, or toil, or the terrors of such winters
as that now raging, had wrought the work of ruin I would have e