Worn out as she was, and fatigued in mind and body, she sat up alone, counting the minutes, until he returned--penniless, broken-spirited, and wretched, but still hotly bent upon his infatuation.
'Get me money,' he said wildly, as they parted for the night.

'I must have money, Nell.

It shall be paid thee back with gallant interest one day, but all the money that comes into thy hands, must be mine--not for myself, but to use for thee.

Remember, Nell, to use for thee!' What could the child do with the knowledge she had, but give him every penny that came into her hands, lest he should be tempted on to rob their benefactress?
If she told the truth (so thought the child) he would be treated as a madman; if she did not supply him with money, he would supply himself; supplying him, she fed the fire that burnt him up, and put him perhaps beyond recovery.

Distracted by these thoughts, borne down by the weight of the sorrow which she dared not tell, tortured by a crowd of apprehensions whenever the old man was absent, and dreading alike his stay and his return, the colour forsook her cheek, her eye grew dim, and her heart was oppressed and heavy.