other house.

"But it was my good, or my evil, fortune--I dare not say which--to have
interested in myself and my sorrows an actress at a suburban theatre,
who occupied the room under mine. Except when her stage duties took her
away for two or three hours in the evening, this noble creature
never left my bedside. Ill as she could afford it, her purse paid my
inevitable expenses while I lay helpless. The landlady, moved by her
example, accepted half the weekly rent of my room. The doctor, with the
Christian kindness of his profession, would take no fees. All that the
tenderest care could accomplish was lavished on me; my youth and my
constitution did the rest. I struggled back to life--and then I took up
my needle again.

"It may surprise you that I should have failed (having an actress for my
dearest friend) to use the means of introduction thus offered to me to
try the stage--especially as my childish training had given me, in some
small degree, a familiarity with the Art.

"I had only one motive for shrinking from an appearance at the
theatre--but it was strong enough to induce me to submit to any
alternative that remained, no matter how hopeless it might be. If I
showed myself on the public stage, my discovery by the man from whom
I had escaped would be only a question of time. I knew him to be
habitually a play-goer and a subscriber to a theatrical newspaper. I had
even heard him speak of the theatre to which my friend was attached,
and compare it advantageously with places of amusement of far higher
pretensions. Sooner or later, if I joined the company he would be
certain to go and see 'the new actress.' The bare thought of it
reconciled me to returning to my needle. Before I was strong enough to
endure the atmosphere of the crowded workroom I obtained permission, as
a favor, to resume my occupation at home.

"Surely my choice was the choice of a virtuous girl? And yet the day
when I returned to my needle was the fatal day of my life.

"I had now not only to provide for the wants of the passing hour--I had
my debts to pay. It was only to be done by toiling harder than ever, and
by living more poorly than ever. I soon paid the penalty, in my weakened
state, of leading such a life as this. One evening my head turned
suddenly giddy; my heart throbbed frightfully. I managed to open the
window, and to let the fresh air into the room, and I felt better. But I
was not sufficiently recovered to be able to thread my ne