I possess nothing to offer you,--no home, no friends, no reputation.

Practically I am an outlaw, existing by my wits, disreputable in the eyes of those who are worthy to live in the world.

She, who was your mother, would never wish you to remain with me.

She would say I did right in giving you up into the care of a good woman.

Naida, look on that face in the locket, your mother's face.