There was light enough on that summer evening for him to see the cause of the gentle sound and the warmth. A large, well-fed tabby cat had curled herself up close to him, was purring the softest, most soothing purr of satisfaction, and was looking at him from out of her comfortable face with considerable interest, and even affection. The fact was, the cat had wandered too far from home, was a trifle hungry, and a trifle cold; she found a few crumbs about Robin, and a little heat in remaining close to his person. It was her intention to spend the night with him. All his little life Robin had been fond of animals. The very first present Helen had given him had been a blind puppy, which in the excess of his affection he had worried to death. Now he hailed the arrival of the large, sleek cat with delight. He pressed her in his arms, and laid his cheek against hers; and when he felt the quick beat of her heart against his own, his great loneliness vanished. Thus his second sleep was sound and happy. When in the early morning he awoke and prepared to set off to pilfer in Covent Garden, his friend rose also; but her services, as far as he was concerned, were at an end. She refused his caresses, whisked her tall at his approach, and, vanishing round the corner, disappeared in the direction of her own happy home. Nevertheless, for a few hours she had comforted him, and he whistled more merrily that day under the vague hope that she would return the next night to the same archway, and allow him to stroke down her soft rich fur, and take her in his arms once more. But his hope was vain; the grey cat was faithless, and again he was alone. He sat down under the archway, pressed his little head on his childish hands, and tried to think. He had never known such utter loneliness before, and it was now loneliness without hope. There was no chance now of Helen returning to him. Days, weeks, months would not bring Helen back to him. She had been shut up in prison for years, and years seemed as long as eternity to the little child. He missed Helen, he missed the attic where he had been happy for so long. He thought again of that last night when they had been so contented together. How kind Helen had been to him that night! and what bright promises she had made for the future! They were going away in a ship--he and she; going across the ocean to a bright and pleasant land, where the fields were green, and the flowers blossomed in numbers. They were to leave the dingy, dirty city, and go to a place where they would neither be hungry nor unhappy again. It all sounded very delightful to Robin, and it would have happened had Helen not been put in prison. His tears dropped heavily as he thought of it now. He fell asleep after a time, for a child will sleep through every sorrow; but he awoke the next morning feeling dull and unrefreshed.