Her countenance was beautiful, nay, even faultless, in its small and child-like features, but the expression pained you--it was so vacant.

In repose it was almost the expression of an idiot--but when she spoke or smiled, or even moved a muscle, the eyes, colour, lips, kindled into a life, which proved that the intellect was still there, though but imperfectly awakened.
"I did not steal any, father," she said in a quiet voice; "but I should like to have taken some, only I knew you would beat me if I did." "And what do you want money for ?" "To get food when I'm hungered." "Nothing else ?" "I don't know." The girl paused.--"Why don't you let me," she said, after a while, "why don't you let me go and work with the other girls at the factory?
I should make money there for you and me both." The man smiled--such a smile--it seemed to bring into sudden play all the revolting characteristics of his countenance.

"Child," he said, "you are just fifteen, and a sad fool you are: perhaps if you went to the factory, you would get away from me; and what should I do without you?
No, I think, as you are so pretty, you might get more money another way." The girl did not seem to understand this allusion: but repeated, vacantly, "I should like to go to the factory." "Stuff!" said the man, angrily; "I have three minds to--" Here he was interrupted by a loud knock at the door of the hovel.
The man grew pale.

"What can that be ?" he muttered.

"The hour is late--near eleven.