When Helen took away Robin, she did so with the desire to do right. The feeling she once had about her own child was awakened again for Robin. For Robin's sake, not for God's sake--she knew nothing then of God--she would do good, not evil. She returned to her old attic, she resumed the old trade. A hard and cruel trade at best, it was harder and crueller than ever now; the times were bad and work was slack and remuneration low. Labour as she might, she could not keep starvation at bay. Still for a year she struggled on, endeavouring for the boy's sake to lead an honest life, but the struggle was too great to last. One day he cried in vain for the bread she could not give him, and as for his sake she had endeavoured hard to do right, so now for his sake she fell. In the low, the very low phases of society, there are two grades, and from the low to the lowest a steep step has to be taken. There are those people who earn their bread anyhow, who pilfer and steal occasionally, who will not stop at a trifle to secure a penny, who have little conscience and little principle. These people--overworked, underfed--often see a prison, and are low, very low undoubtedly. But they are not the lowest, they are only the occasional criminals--the habitual criminals are a great step lower than they. Hitherto Helen had belonged to the former class; more or less all her life had she belonged to it. She did not consider it wrong to steal; when theft came in her way, she became a thief; but she was not an habitual thief, and the greater part of the money she lived on was honestly come by. For the last two years--the year of her own child's life and the year she had lived for Robin--she had been strictly honest; but now, being sorely tempted, she fell. She resolved to take the child to a place where even the police would scarcely venture; she would step down from the low to the lowest. She would become--because she so longed to keep the boy with her, and because in no other way did it seem possible for her to keep him--an habitual criminal. She carried out her design; she and Robin disappeared into those foul and loathsome places where sin grows rank and strong; those places on earth which surely show us that hell can begin here. Helen was a thief always now; she was worse. But she had one pure spot in her still; she loved the boy: her love for Robin never lessened or grew cold, and as much as possible she kept from him the knowledge of her ways, as much as possible she kept him apart from her evil companions. When she spoke to him she gave him her softest and best language, and she had dreams--poor, miserable soul!--that some day he might turn out well.