What should she do? Of whom ask advice? She had neither mother nor friend, at least no friend who merited the name. Under similar circumstances gamblers toss up a goldpiece; bigots open the Scriptures and the first verse upon which their eyes fall resolves their doubt after the manner of an oracle. At the moment she was standing before a table upon which rested a bust of Shakespeare with a vase of flowers, a sort of offering renewed each day as though it were a domestic altar. A book-shelf upon the wall contained the works of the great dramatist. In those pages, so often conned, Esther had learned to think and to feel, to know mankind, the world, and love. It was her Bible, her book of books, august and authentic revelation before all others, the repository of her religion and philosophy. For this reason, struck with a sudden inspiration, she caught up the volume, which opened of itself to the first scene of the second act of "All's Well That Ends Well." In the middle of the page five words seemed to blaze before her stupefied eyes,-- "_By Heaven, I'll steal away!_" There was no ambiguity in this response. Esther bowed her head as if overwhelmed by a fatality. At this moment the memory of Frank crossed her mind. Again she saw that sweetly sad face with eyes which reproached her for her treason. She felt an inward anguish; it seemed to her that, following the example of the pirates of the Thames, whose cruelty she had so lately condemned, she was casting the poor boy a second time into the dark abyss that yawned to engulf him. But she rose with a sort of rage against the thought. Had Frank ever spoken a word of love to her? Did she even know that he loved her? And her conscience promptly replied,-- "Yes, you do know; his eyes have told you!" Well, so be it; he did love her; but could she consider a man who possessed nothing, whose profession earned him scarce a livelihood? Could she marry her poverty to Frank's misery? She saw herself as if depicted in two different pictures. Here, wretched, faded before her time, nursing a puny infant in a garret, bare of even the necessaries of life. In the companion picture, covered with diamonds and flowers, she was entering St James's, while the gentlemen-in-waiting bowed before her and a footman announced, "Lady Mowbray!" When Mrs. Marsham inquired, "What will your domino be?" she answered, "Brown with blue ribbons."