I want him immediately, so you can send Frith with my phaeton if you like. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. She was finally dead, going to Hell. "Oh, God! would you take him from me?— would you murder him?" "His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. " "We'll be waiting for you.
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