ng a rich woman. Who knows what they
took me for? Still the thought of you sustained me, Wilkie, and nothing
daunted me.

"I finally succeeded in obtaining some bands of muslin to embroider, and
some pieces of tapestry work to fill in. Unremunerative employment, no
doubt, especially to one ignorant of the art of working quickly, rather
than well. By rising with daylight, and working until late at night,
I scarcely succeeded in earning twenty sous a day. And it was not long
before even this scanty resource failed me. Winter came, and the cold
weather with it. One morning I changed my last five-franc piece--it
lasted us a week. Then I pawned and sold everything that was not
absolutely indispensable until nothing was left me but my patched dress
and a single skirt. And soon an evening came when the owner of our
miserable den turned us into the street because I could no longer pay
the rent.

"This was the final blow! I tottered away, clinging to the walls for
support; too weak from lack of food to carry you. The rain was falling,
and chilled us to the bones. You were crying bitterly. And all that
night and all the next day, aimless and hopeless, we wandered about the
streets. I must either die of want or return to your father. I preferred
death. Toward evening--instinct having led me to the Seine--I sat down
on one of the stone benches of the Point-Neuf, holding you on my knees
and watching the flow of the dark river below. There was a strange
fascination--a promise of peace in its depths--that impelled me almost
irresistibly to plunge into the flood. If I had been alone in the world,
I should not have stopped to consider a second, but on your account,
Wilkie, I hesitated."

Moved by the thought of the danger he had escaped, M. Wilkie shuddered.
"B-r-r-r!" he growled. "You did well to hesitate."

She did not even hear him, but continued: "I at last decided that it
was best to put an end to this misery, and rising with difficulty, I was
approaching the parapet, when a gruff voice beside us exclaimed: 'What
are you doing there?' I turned, thinking some police officer had spoken,
but I was mistaken. By the light of the street lamp, I perceived a man
who looked some thirty years of age, and had a frank and rather genial
face. Why this stranger instantly inspired me with unlimited confidence
I don't know. Perhaps it was an unconscious horror of death that made me
long for any token of human sympathy. However it may have been