When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. I would do anything—I would give anything to make you mine. ‘You cannot be always with me. Remember that I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, and I’m well aware of your identity. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. My only love is for my poor lost son.
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