'Ham! Poor good fellow! For Heaven's sake, tell me what's the matter!'
'My love, Mas'r Davy—the pride and hope of my art—her that I'd have died for, and would die for now—she's gone!'
'Gone!'
'Em'ly's run away! Oh, Mas'r Davy, think HOW she's run away, when I pray my good and gracious God to kill her （her that is so dear above all things） sooner than let her come to ruin and disgrace!'
The face he turned up to the troubled sky, the quivering of his clasped hands, the agony of his figure, remain associated with the lonely waste, in my remembrance, to this hour. It is always night there,and he is the only object in the scene.