From that time the protection that her wondering eyes had expressed towards him, became embodied in action, and the Child of the Marshalsea took upon herself a new relation towards the Father.
At first, such a baby could do little more than sit with him, deserting her livelier place by the high fender, and quietly watching him.

But this made her so far necessary to him that he became accustomed to her, and began to be sensible of missing her when she was not there.

Through this little gate, she passed out of childhood into the care-laden world.
What her pitiful look saw, at that early time, in her father, in her sister, in her brother, in the jail; how much, or how little of the wretched truth it pleased God to make visible to her; lies hidden with many mysteries.

It is enough that she was inspired to be something which was not what the rest were, and to be that something, different and laborious, for the sake of the rest.

Inspired?
Yes.