Edoardo’s demands increased with his exigencies.  He was making rapid advances into the most terrible phases of the gamester’s vice; and the mania in Sophia of giving—­of sacrificing all her means for Edoardo, did not stop.  All the money left her by her mother had already disappeared; most of her valuable ornaments had been sold; some of the bank bills had been parted with:  but as this could not be done without her father’s knowledge, he had made the laws interpose, and sequestrated the remainder.  Sophia did not dare to speak or complain.  She felt in her heart that her father was probably in the right, that her own conduct was at least unreflecting, and that Edoardo’s expenses were too great; but still she found a thousand arguments to excuse both herself and him.  She spent all the day making flowers, and stole a great part of the night from repose to devote it to this labour; but she, formerly so ready to make presents of her flowers, and adorn with them the young girls of her acquaintance, now exacted payment for them; so that every one wondered at this new and sudden avarice.  But what did she care what was said of her?  What did she care for appearing without those ornaments which women so love, and which add so much to their charms?  What mattered it to her that she was ruining her own health by depriving herself of rest, toiling, and weeping?  One look, one smile of Edoardo, the having satisfied one of his desires, compensated for all.  What afflicted and troubled her was, that her labour should be so insufficient to meet his wants.  Often did it occur to her mind that he gambled, that he was ruining himself, and she thought of reproving him for it, but had not courage to do so.  Sometimes she accused herself of aiding him to destroy himself.  Then she thought that she was mistaken; her doubts seemed to her as injuries to his love, and she grieved for having for a moment admitted them.

One treasure alone remained, the cross which her mother had given her on her death-bed.  It was of brilliants, and might bring a large sum.  She thought over this, and wept for a whole week.  Many times she went out with the intention of selling it, but her heart could not resolve to do so, and she returned penitent and sorrowful.

Meanwhile, Edoardo was involving himself more and more in debt.  Assailed by creditors on one side, and drawn to the gaming-table by desire and necessity on the other; menaced with a prison, threatened to be denounced to his father, stupid from want of rest, midnight revelling, and anxiety, he one day presented himself before Sophia in a state so different from usual, that the poor girl was terrified at him.  Whither, Edoardo, has departed the beauty, the freshness of your youthful years?—­whither your simplicity of heart?  Buried, buried amid dice and cards.  Sophia no longer doubted that Edoardo gambled, that he had given himself up to a life worthy of reprehension; but she was disposed to pardon him, to hope that he