y into its
yawning chasms, like the figures from the bridge in Mirza's vision; and
the theatre was not a more exposed sphere than many another, and that
made all the difference in the world. Very few save the strictest
Methodists condemned it, when Henry Brooke wrote for it, and Dr. Johnson
stood with his hands behind his back in the green room.

Mrs. Betty Lumley, tall, comely, high-principled, warm-hearted, and
ingenuous, was come of yeomen ancestors. She did not see a play in a
barn and run away after the drama, like Caroline Inchbald; but on the
death of her father and mother, she went up with an elder sister and
young brother to London to seek for an employment and a livelihood.
Encountering some person of dramatic pursuits--manager, stage-painter,
ticket-taker, or the like, or the wife of one or other--she was
recommended to the stage. She was supported in the idea by all her
connections, for then no one questioned the perfect respectability of
the profession. She studied hard in new, though not uncongenial fields;
she ventured; she tried again and again, with the "modest but
indomitable pluck" of genius, and she at last won a position and a
prospect of independence. In all this nobody blamed her; on the
contrary, the magnates of the hour--kings, councillors, bishops--awarded
her great credit for her parts, her industry, her integrity, her honour.

Not a lady of quality in London was more respected and admired, rightly
or wrongly, than Mistress Betty. At the same time it is possible that,
having reached the goal, could she have turned back and begun her walk
anew, she would have hesitated before following this thorny path. It was
a thorny path, for all its applause and success; nay, on account of
them; even with a good woman like Mistress Betty it required all her
sincerity, her sobriety, and, according to the prevailing standard, her
religion, to deliver her from imminent danger. Moreover, with the
attainment of the object, had come the bitter drops which qualified the
cup. Her plain, fond, innocent sister was in her grave; and so within
the two last years was the young brother, for whom her interest had
procured a post of some importance in the Colonies, whence he bequeathed
to Mistress Betty, his dear distinguished sister, his little savings.
She struggled to be resigned, and was not only weary, but tempted to
grasp at material rewards. This was the turning-point of her life. She
would be virtuous to the last.