ed there the day before. Jane paused for a moment, and but for a moment, for as the truth flashed on her, she sprang forward, and seizing his arm, exclaimed, "For heaven's sake, David, put back that money! Do not load yourself with any more sins."
He shook her off, and hastily stuffing the money in his pocket, said, that he must have it; that his mother would not give him enough to save him from destruction; that he had told her, ruin was hanging over his head; that she had driven him to help himself; and, "as to sin," he added fiercely, "I am in too deep already to be frightened by that thought."
It occurred to Jane that he might have been driven to this mode of supplying himself, in order to relieve the extreme need of Mary Oakley; and she told him, in a hurried manner, the events of the night. For a moment he felt the sting of conscience, and, perhaps, a touch of human feeling; for, he staggered back into a chair, and covering his face with his hands, muttered, "dead! Mary dead! Good God! Hell has no place bad enough for me;" and then rousing himself, he said, with a deep tone, "Jane Elton, I am a ruined, desperate man. You thought too well of me, when you imagined it was for that poor girl I was doing this deed. No, no! her cries did not trouble me; but there are those whose clamours must be hushed by money—curse on them!"
"But," said Jane, "is there no other way, David? I will entreat your mother for you."
