ic place of worship, but the
discovery gave her an unexpected pleasure. She was soothed and filled
with a sense of repose. Sinking into the attitude of prayer, she let
her thoughts carry her whither they would; they showed her nothing but
images of beauty and peace. It was with reluctance that she arose and
went back into the dark street, where the world met her with a chill
blast, sleet-laden.

Our Lady of the Rosary received her frequently after this. But there
were days when the thought of repose was far from her. At one such
time, on an evening in November, a sudden desire possessed her mind;
she would go out into the streets of the town and see something of that
life which she knew only in imagination, the traffic of highway and
byway after dark, the masque of pleasure and misery of sin of which a
young girl can know nothing, save from hints here and there in her
reading, or from the occasional whispers and head-shakings of society's
gossip. Her freedom was complete; her absence, if noticed, would entail
no questions; her mother doubtless would conclude that she was at her
aunt Theresa's. So she clad herself in walking attire of a kind not
likely to attract observation, and set forth. The tumult which had been
in her blood all day received fresh impulse from the excitement of the
adventure. She had veiled her face, but the veil hindered her
observation, and she threw it back. First into Edgware Road, then down
Oxford Street. Her thoughts pointed to an eastern district, though she
feared the distance would be too great; she had frequently talked with
Waymark of his work in Litany Lane and Elm Court, and a great curiosity
possessed her to see these places. She entered an omnibus, and so
reached the remote neighbourhood. Here, by inquiry of likely people,
she found her way to Litany Lane, and would have penetrated its
darkness, but was arrested by a sudden event characteristic of the
locality.

Forth from the alley, just before her, rushed a woman of hideous
aspect, pursued by another, younger, but, if possible, yet more foul,
who shrieked curses and threats. In the way of the fugitive was a
costermonger's stall; unable to check herself, the woman rushed against
this, overturning it, and herself falling among the ruin. The one in
pursuit, with a yell of triumph, sprang upon her prostrate enemy, and
attacked her with fearful violence, leaping on her body, dashing her
head against the pavement, seemingly bent on murde