as a great deal
of talk about the marriage of that very favourite actress, Mrs.
Morton. She appeared in the playbills as Mrs. George Hotspur, late
Mrs. Morton. Very many spoke of her familiarly, who knew her only on
the stage,--as is the custom of men in speaking of actresses,--and
perhaps some few of these who spoke of her did know her personally.
"Poor Lucy!" said one middle-aged gentleman over fifty, who spent
four nights of every week at one theatre or another. "When she was
little more than a child they married her to that reprobate Morton.
Since that she has managed to keep her head above water by hard work;
and now she has gone and married another worse than the first!"

"She is older now, and will be able to manage George," said another.

"Manage him! If anybody can manage to keep him out of debt, or from
drink either, I'll eat him."

"But he must be Sir George when old Sir Harry dies," said he who was
defending the prudence of the marriage.

"Yes, and won't have a penny. Will it help her to be able to put Lady
Hotspur on the bills? Not in the least. And the women can't forgive
her and visit her. She has not been good enough for that. A grand old
family has been disgraced, and a good actress destroyed. That's my
idea of this marriage."

"I thought Georgy was going to marry his cousin--that awfully proud
minx," said one young fellow.

"When it came to the scratch, she would not have him," said another.
"But there had been promises, and so, to make it all square, Sir
Harry paid his debts."

"I don't believe a bit about his debts being paid," said the
middle-aged gentleman who was fond of going to the theatre.

Yes, George Hotspur was married: and, as far as any love went
with him, had married the woman he liked best. Though the actress
was worlds too good for him, there was not about her that air of
cleanliness and almost severe purity which had so distressed him
while he had been forced to move in the atmosphere of his cousin.
After the copying of the letter and the settlement of the bills, Mrs.
Morton had found no difficulty in arranging matters as she pleased.
She had known the man perhaps better than any one else had known him;
and yet she thought it best to marry him. We must not inquire into
her motives, though we may pity her fate.

She did not intend, however, to yield herself as an easy prey to
his selfishness. She had also her ideas of reforming him, and
ideas which, as they were much less gr