to night, she drew Carry closer toward her, and, above
the prattle of the child, pursued a vein of sentimental and egotistic
recollection at once bitter and dangerous. The sudden apparition of Ah
Fe linked her again with her past life at Fiddletown. Over the dreary
interval between, she was now wandering--a journey so piteous, willful,
thorny, and useless that it was no wonder that at last Carry stopped
suddenly in the midst of her voluble confidences to throw her small arms
around the woman's neck, and bid her not to cry.

Heaven forefend that I should use a pen that should be ever dedicated
to an exposition of unalterable moral principle to transcribe Mrs.
Tretherick's own theory of this interval and episode, with its feeble
palliations, its illogical deductions, its fond excuses, and weak
apologies. It would seem, however, that her experience had been hard.
Her slender stock of money was soon exhausted. At Sacramento she
found that the composition of verse, although appealing to the highest
emotions of the human heart, and compelling the editorial breast to the
noblest commendation in the editorial pages, was singularly inadequate
to defray the expenses of herself and Carry. Then she tried the stage,
but failed signally. Possibly her conception of the passions was
different from that which obtained with a Sacramento audience; but it
was certain that her charming presence, so effective at short range, was
not sufficiently pronounced for the footlights. She had admirers enough
in the greenroom, but awakened no abiding affection among the audience.
In this strait, it occurred to her that she had a voice--a contralto of
no very great compass or cultivation, but singularly sweet and touching;
and she finally obtained position in a church choir. She held it for
three months, greatly to her pecuniary advantage, and, it is said, much
to the satisfaction of the gentlemen in the back pews, who faced toward
her during the singing of the last hymn.

I remember her quite distinctly at this time. The light that slanted
through the oriel of St. Dives's choir was wont to fall very tenderly on
her beautiful head with its stacked masses of deerskin-colored hair, on
the low black arches of her brows, and to deepen the pretty fringes
that shaded her eyes of Genoa velvet. Very pleasant it was to watch
the opening and shutting of that small straight mouth, with its quick
revelation of little white teeth, and to see the foolish blood faint