the
starry sky, above, warned him of the rapid flight of time, that, covered
with dust and panting for breath, he stopped to listen and look about
him.

All was still and silent. A glare of light in the distance, casting a
warm glow upon the sky, marked where the huge city lay. Solitary fields,
divided by hedges and ditches, through many of which he had crashed and
scrambled in his flight, skirted the road, both by the way he had come
and upon the opposite side. It was late now. They could scarcely trace
him by such paths as he had taken, and if he could hope to regain his
own dwelling, it must surely be at such a time as that, and under cover
of the darkness. This, by degrees, became pretty plain, even to the mind
of Smike. He had, at first, entertained some vague and childish idea of
travelling into the country for ten or a dozen miles, and then returning
homewards by a wide circuit, which should keep him clear of London--so
great was his apprehension of traversing the streets alone, lest
he should again encounter his dreaded enemy--but, yielding to the
conviction which these thoughts inspired, he turned back, and taking the
open road, though not without many fears and misgivings, made for London
again, with scarcely less speed of foot than that with which he had left
the temporary abode of Mr Squeers.

By the time he re-entered it, at the western extremity, the greater part
of the shops were closed. Of the throngs of people who had been tempted
abroad after the heat of the day, but few remained in the streets, and
they were lounging home. But of these he asked his way from time to
time, and by dint of repeated inquiries, he at length reached the
dwelling of Newman Noggs.

All that evening, Newman had been hunting and searching in byways and
corners for the very person who now knocked at his door, while Nicholas
had been pursuing the same inquiry in other directions. He was sitting,
with a melancholy air, at his poor supper, when Smike's timorous and
uncertain knock reached his ears. Alive to every sound, in his anxious
and expectant state, Newman hurried downstairs, and, uttering a cry of
joyful surprise, dragged the welcome visitor into the passage and up the
stairs, and said not a word until he had him safe in his own garret
and the door was shut behind them, when he mixed a great mug-full of
gin-and-water, and holding it to Smike's mouth, as one might hold a bowl
of medicine to the lips of a refractory child,