, and felt
her heart beat with secret delight as she saw them.

Then, as her health began to decline, as dislike insupportable for her
occupation and its confinement; as weariness not to be described, came
on; as longings for little luxuries to be seen in every shop which she
passed by, for fruit or confectionary, haunted her palled and diseased
appetite as the vision of food haunts the wretch who is starving; as the
desire of fine clothes, in which her companions managed to array
themselves; as the more insidious, and more honorable longings of the
heart, the desolate heart, beset her--cravings for affection and
sympathy; when all these temptations were embodied together in the shape
of one, but too gentle, and insinuating; oh, then it was perilous work
indeed!

Her mother had tried to give her a good, honest, homely education; had
made such a Christian of her, as going to church, reading a chapter in
the Bible on a Sunday, and the catechism makes of a young girl. There
was nothing very vital, or earnest about it; but such as it was, it was
honest, and Lucy feared her God and reverenced her Saviour. Such
sentiments were something of a defense, but it is to be feared that they
were not firmly enough rooted in the character to have long resisted the
force of overwhelming temptation.

This she was well aware of, and acknowledged to herself; and hence her
deep, pervading, ineffable gratitude, for the Providence which she
believed had saved her.

She was getting on very fast on the evil road upon which she had
entered. Every Sunday the progress she made was fearful. A few more, at
the pace at which she was advancing, and there would have been an end of
it, when a most unexpected accident arrested her in the fatal career.

One remarkably fine Sunday, when all the members of the establishment
had been enjoying their usual recreation in the Park--just as Lucy and
some of her giddy friends were coming through Grosvenor Gate, they saw
the superintendent before them.

"There's that old Saunders, I declare!" cried one. "Stand back a little,
won't ye?--she'll see our bonnets else, and I'll be bound she'll know
the rosettes, and where they come from."

There was time for no more. Mrs. Saunders, who was rather late, being in
haste to get home, attempted to cross, as a curricle at full speed came
driving down Parklane, and before the gentleman within could draw up,
the unfortunate woman was under the horses' heels. There was a