Oliver, what are we? What is man? What is virtue? What is honour?--My pride has received a wound much more acute than that which the ball of the highwayman inflicted on my body--I have had money palmed upon me--Money!--A man cannot behave as he ought, and as it would be contemptible not to behave, but he must be paid! His vices are paid! His virtues are paid!--All is mercenary! I to be sure must be one of the number!--A twenty pound bank note, I tell thee, forced upon me by Sir Arthur!--No, no--Not by him--He never could have made me accept what I supposed [falsely, however; as fact and reflection have since led me to suspect] it was mean and degrading to accept. She only could prevail. She whose commands are irresistible, and who condescended to entreat!--Her eye glistening with a tear, which she with difficulty detained in its beauteous orbit, she entreated!--There was no opposing such intercession! Her eloquence was heavenly! God be praised that it was so! For, as it has happened, I am persuaded it has preserved a poor distressed creature from phrensy--Have patience, and I will tell thee. I had removed my penitent, and had been taking a short airing in the park; and, as I was returning, I saw a crowd collected in a court. Led by curiosity to enquire what was the matter, I was told that two men had just been pursuing a third over the roofs of the neighbouring houses; and that, having been obliged to descend through a trap-door, they had followed him, where it was supposed he had at last been taken. I asked what his crime was, but nobody knew. Some believed him to be a thief, some thought it was a press-gang, and others conjectured they were bailiffs. It was not long, however, before a decent, well-looking, and indeed handsome young woman, with a fine child in her arms, came running up the court, made her way through the crowd with terror in her countenance, and with the most piercing cries demanded--'Where is he?--Where is my dear Harry?--Who has seen him? Where is he?' Some of the people pointed out the house. She knocked violently, continued her cries and lamentations, and at last gained admittance. Her grief was so moving, so sympathetic, that it excited my compassion, and made me determine to follow her. Accordingly I elbowed my way, though I felt that I rather disturbed the surgeon's dressing; but that was a trifle. I followed her up stairs without ceremony. With respect to her, affection, 'masterless passion, had swayed her to its mood'--she was not to be repulsed.