She lay stone-still in a trance of terror and mournfulness, mechanically counting the tears as they fell, one by one.

The hidden face, the fall and flash of those heavy drops in the light of the lamp he held, the upright, awful figure, agitated at regular intervals like a piece of clockwork by the low murderous catch of his breath: it was so piteous to her poor human nature that her heart began wildly palpitating.

Involuntarily the poor girl cried out to him, "Oh, sir!" and fell a-weeping.

Sir Austin turned the lamp on her pillow, and harshly bade her go to sleep, striding from the room forthwith.

He dismissed her with a purse the next day.
Once, when he was seven years old, the little fellow woke up at night to see a lady bending over him.