He leaned his head on his hands, and tears, scalding tears, gushed from his eyes. 'I did it for _her_. It was to get gold to lavish on _her_. I would have chained myself for life to that old man's daughter, to get wealth; I would have added the murder of those children to the catalogue of my crimes, that I might have grasped their inheritance, to have showered all that I had gathered by toil and crime upon _her_. She was my hope, my pride, my own dear darling child; but she is shipwrecked now; she has withered my heart. I would have shed its last blood for her. I would--I _would_; indeed I would! But it's useless to think of it. She can never be what she was; the bright, pure-souled, spotless child whom I worshipped. Yes, yes; I _did_ worship her; Why deny it? Better, far better, she had died, for then I might still have cherished her memory. It's too late. She's become a castaway now.' He paused. From a state of deep and querulous despondency, he gradually recovered composure; then his mood grew sterner and sterner; until his compressed lips and flashing eye showed that he had passed from one extreme to the other. 'Is there nothing left to live for?' exclaimed he; '_nothing_ left? One thing can yet be done. I must ascertain her disgrace beyond a doubt. Then atonement can and shall be made, or _he_ had better never have been born!' Rust stood up, with an expression of bold, honest indignation, such as he had rarely worn, stamped on every feature. '_This_ must be accomplished,' said he. 'Everything else must be abandoned: _this_ done, let me die; for I cannot love her as I did, and I might hate her: Better die!' CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD. Richard Holmes, Esq. was sitting in his office, two days after the events narrated in the last chapter, with his nose within a few inches of a law-book which rested on his knees, when he was aroused by the opening of the door, and the entrance of a man. Holmes was so much out of the world, and out of the current of business, that he did what a practitioner at the bar of his age and standing rarely does; that is, he looked up without waiting till he was addressed. 'Ah, Harson?--it's you, is it?' said he, laying aside his book, but without rising. Harry walked up, shook hands with him, and seated himself. 'We've been hard at work, and have made some progress,' said he, taking off his hat, and placing it on the table. 'We've got the woman.' 'What woman?' 'Blossom,' replied Harson; 'I've brought her here to answer for herself. She was in Rust's employ, and received the children from him. She's below.' 'What news of the boy?' inquired Holmes. 'Grosket is after him. He knows where he is. Would you like to see the woman?' 'It would be as well,' said Holmes, drumming on the table. 'We'll hear what she has to say. Does she communicate what she knows willingly or under compulsion?' 'She's not very talkative;' answered Harson, 'and seems terribly afraid of Rust.'