But was it Faith? That is what she was this day going to find out. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. I know I am undeserving of your bounty; but if I were to tell you what hardships I have undergone—to what frightful extremities I have been reduced—and to what infamy I have submitted, to earn a scanty subsistence for this child's sake, —if you could feel what it is to stand alone in the world as I do, bereft of all who have ever loved me, and shunned by all who have ever known me, except the worthless and the wretched,—if you knew (and Heaven grant you may be spared the knowledge!) how much affliction sharpens love, and how much more dear to me my child has become for every sacrifice I have made for him,—if you were told all this, you would, I am sure, pity rather than reproach me, because I cannot at once consent to a separation, which I feel would break my heart. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice. ” “Of course,” said Capes, and threw a newly lit cigar into the fire through sheer nervousness. It is a big house and there are many rooms in which to hide. The man’s passion was infectious.
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