With Helen, who was clever, strong, hard-working, even though the greater part of her work was thieving, he was seldom without food, never without love. The eyes of Helen would look lovingly into his, the lips of Helen would press his lips, and the faithful breast of Helen would often be a shelter for his weary little head. Now all this was over, and the child at the age of eight years found himself utterly alone. Things had never from his birth fared very well with him, but from this time life indeed looked dark. And yet God had gifted this child with much, if only man had done his part. He was strong as a little lion; his face was fair and sweet; the expression in his lovely eyes was sometimes almost angelic. Naturally he was intensely affectionate, and he was brave to foolhardiness. Out of these materials much could have been made, but now the little heart was left to feed on itself, and to drink in evil at every pore. He loved Helen passionately--just as passionately as she had loved him; as vehemently then did he hate the law which had shut her away from him. For a moment the thought of returning to her had comforted him, but when he found that he could not accomplish his desire, the last straw that bound him to good seemed broken. He chuckled over the philanthropist's pocket handkerchief, and threw away his card, and plunged with all his young soul into sin. Still things went very hard with him, and, as a thief, he scarcely kept starvation at bay. As he sank lower, and his untrained and uncultivated mind ceased to work, his desires were simplified to almost those of a mere animal. He had to provide against certain gnawing pains. He had, on all possible occasions, to escape the "bobbies." Once or twice, for some small acts of petty pilfering, he was had up before the magistrates; but on these occasions, when his small head scarcely reached the bar of the dock, his tender years and innocent face got him off very easily. Thus he began to grow up into a criminal career, with no means of knowing what was wrong, and no power to help himself. Never, in all his life, had the right way been pointed out to this child, and the only kindness and love he could remember came from poor Helen, who had first taught him to be a thief. On one or two occasions, attracted by his innocent face, the regular thief-trainer had got hold of him. In all low criminal neighbourhoods there are several such characters, who make it a practice to lay hands on young children and skilfully train them in the ways of this terrible calling. By these people Robin would have been clothed and fed, and would probably, whatever his future fate, not have fallen a prey to starvation and want; but the child had too high a spirit to bear their petty cruelties, and, one by one, he ran away from them all. So by stealing a turnip off a stall, or a loaf out of a baker's barrow, he managed to keep the "hungry staggers," the disease he most dreaded, at bay.