ault.

"So I lay concealed and safe till the time came when I had to
purchase pity, help, and precious secrecy. My discreet hosts could
furnish those extras; but they were poor, and such luxuries are
expensive in New York;--it was not long before my last dollar was
gone. I had been ill,--_ill_, Miss Wimple,--and every way crippled;
I could not, if the work had offered itself to me, have earned more
then. My last trinket was gone; I had pawned whatever I could spare
from the hard exigencies of living; for I am no coward,--I did not
wish to die,--I had challenged my fate, and would meet it. I had
even changed with the women of the house the silk dress I wore, and
my fine linen, for the mean rags you cleansed me of last night,
--that they might pay themselves so; and when all was expended, and
the last trick tried that pride, honor, and modesty could wink at, I
came away in the night, leaving no unsettled scores behind me. But I
saw my own resources sinking fast; I knew I must presently be debtor
to some one for protection, aid, and counsel. I remembered you,--and
that I had said I could beg of none but you; therefore I am here.

"And now, Miss Wimple,"--and as she spoke, Madeline arose, and,
standing before her companion, said her say slowly, proudly, with
head erect and unflinching eyes,--"I told you I believed in you, as
I believed in nothing then, on earth or in heaven,--as I believe
only in God's mercy now. I will prove that that was no merely pretty
phrase, meant cunningly to cheat you of your forgiveness for a
coarse insult. Since I saw you last, I have been--a mother; I have
brought forth a child in shame and sin and blasphemous defiance,
--and God has been merciful to it and to me, and has taken it unto
Himself. I think you also will be merciful; you will help me to save
myself from the pit that yawns just now at my feet; you will help me
to prove it false, that a woman who has strayed off so far in her
wilful way may not, if she be strong and truly proud, retrace her
steps, to fall in at last--though last of all the stragglers--with
the happy procession of honored women,--of women who have done the
best they could, and borne their burden bravely."

Miss Wimple sat on the side of the bed, her chin resting on her
clasped hands, her gaze fixed vacantly on the floor,--"Poor baby!
Dead,--thank God!" was all she said.

"Miss Wimple," said Madeline, "I have addressed myself to your heart,
rather than to your unders