One day, after especially harsh treatment, the boy sat huddled in a dark corner by himself, sobbing as though his heart would break. The room was dark and deserted, when Nicholas entered, but he heard the sound of weeping and went over and laid his hand on the drudge's head.
"Do not, for God's sake!" said Nicholas, in an agitated voice; "I cannot bear to see you."
"They are more hard with me than ever," sobbed the boy.
"I know it," rejoined Nicholas. "They are."
"But for you," said the outcast, "I should die. They would kill me, they would; I know they would."
"You will do better, poor fellow," replied Nicholas, shaking his head mournfully, "when I am gone."
"Gone!" cried the other, looking intently in his face.
"Softly!" rejoined Nicholas. "Yes."
"Are you going?" demanded the boy, in an earnest whisper.
"I cannot say," replied Nicholas. "I was speaking more to my own thoughts than to you."