"Because she was friendless and deserted; poor, sick, and miserable. She had given up what little money she had to supply the wants—perhaps—who knows?—the vices of another. Happily there were found those who would befriend her."
"And she accepted the charity; she received the alms?"
"She had learned to submit herself to the will of God."
He shut his teeth together with a something between bitterness and contempt at these last words, and turned his head away.
"You are her father?" said the lady.
"I am—"
"Then you are a very wretched man," she added.
"Yes," he replied, "I am most miserable."
"You are one who have reaped from seeds, which might have produced a rich harvest of happiness, nothing but black and blighted misery."
She spoke with unusual severity, for her soul recoiled at his aspect: she saw nothing in it to soften her feelings of indignation.