Of what use to any, the feeble flickering light upstairs, that must go out were it left for a moment untended?
The light that would have gone out this long time back had she not fostered it and cherished it and sheltered it in her bosom?
Of what avail that weak existence?
Or, if it were of avail, why, for its sake, waste this other and more precious life that still could not redeem it?
Why?
He must speak to her.

He must persuade her, press her, convince her; carry her off by force were it necessary.

It was his duty, his clear call.

He rose and walked the room in excitement, as he thought of it.

He had pity for the old, abandoned and left to suffer alone; and an enlightening glimpse of the weight that the girl must carry through life by reason of this desertion.