I heard him rave of it in a
fever into which drink had thrown him. All was dark to him, he said,
when he was near dying; but he had taught his child to believe; he had
done his best to make her believe. He did not know my heart; I was his
own child; I longed for sensual things; my heart burned with a wish for
money, but it all went for drink. Had I but been able then to procure
food and clothes as others of my rank did, the burning wish for money
that consumed my heart then and now might never have been kindled, and I
might have been rich as those often become who have never wished for
riches. Yes, the eagerness of my wishes has always driven money far away
from me; that cursed gold and silver, it flows on them who have never
worshiped it--never longed for it till their brain turned; and it will
not come to such as me, whose whole life has been a desire for it. Well,
my father died, and I was left without a penny; all the furniture went
to pay the spirit-merchant. I went to Ireland; I lived with relations
who were poor and ignorant: I heard the cry of want of money there too.
A father and mother and seven children, and me, the penniless orphan: we
all wanted money--all cried for it. At last my cry was answered in a
black way; I saw the sight of money at last; a purse heaped, overflowing
with money, was put into my hands. My brain got giddy at the sight; sin
and virtue became all one to me at the sight. Gold, gold! my father
would hardly ever give me one poor shilling; the people with whom I
lived hardly ever had a shilling among them. I became the mistress of a
rich man--a married man; his wife and children were living there before
my eyes--a profligate man; his sins were the talk of the countryside. I
hated him; he was old, deformed, revolting; but he chained me to him by
money. Then I enjoyed money for a while; I kept that purse in my hand; I
laid it down so as my eyes would rest on it perpetually. I dressed; I
squandered sum after sum; the rich man who kept me had many other
expenses: his money became scantier; we quarreled; another offered me
more money--I went to him."

A deep groan shook the whole frame of the unfortunate young poet at this
statement--a groan which in its intensity might have separated soul and
body.

"Let me go--let me go!" he cried, raising himself for a moment, and then
sinking back again in his chair in a passive state.

His mother seemed a little softened by his agitation, though she made n