ordant atoms. Here, I say,
I met Mary and her daughter, by my old friend--the daughter, still
innocent, but, sacra! in what an element of vice! We knew each other's
secrets, Mary and I, and kept them: she thought me a greater knave than
I was, and she intrusted to me her intention of selling her child to a
rich English marquis. On the other hand, the poor girl confided to me
her horror of the scenes she witnessed and the snares that surrounded
her. What do you think preserved her pure from all danger? Bah! you will
never guess! It was partly because, if example corrupts, it as often
deters, but principally because she loved. A girl who loves one
man purely has about her an amulet which defies the advances of
the profligate. There was a handsome young Italian, an artist, who
frequented the house--he was the man. I had to choose, then, between
mother and daughter: I chose the last."

Philip seized hold of Gawtrey's hand, grasped it warmly, and the
good-for-nothing continued--

"Do you know, that I loved that girl as well as I had ever loved the
mother, though in another way; she was what I fancied the mother to be;
still more fair, more graceful, more winning, with a heart as full of
love as her mother's had been of vanity. I loved that child as if she
had been my own daughter. I induced her to leave her mother's house--I
secreted her--I saw her married to the man she loved--I gave her away,
and saw no more of her for several months."

"Why?"

"Because I spent them in prison! The young people could not live upon
air; I gave them what I had, and in order to do more I did something
which displeased the police; I narrowly escaped that time; but I
am popular--very popular, and with plenty of witnesses, not
over-scrupulous, I got off! When I was released, I would not go to see
them, for my clothes were ragged: the police still watched me, and I
would not do them harm in the world! Ay, poor wretches! they struggled
so hard: he could got very little by his art, though, I believe, he was
a cleverish fellow at it, and the money I had given them could not last
for ever. They lived near the Champs Elysees, and at night I used to
steal out and look at them through the window. They seemed so happy, and
so handsome, and so good; but he looked sickly, and I saw that, like all
Italians, he languished for his own warm climate. But man is born to act
as well as to contemplate," pursued Gawtrey, changing his tone into
the allegro; "and