When Edward rang the doorbell his heart was beating so hard that he could bear it, and when the colored servant came to take his card, he felt as if walking in a dream. The servant led him into a beautiful boudoir, where he sat waiting for Miss King, ho soon came in. "I am so happy you came," she said as she entered. Edward murmured something about being very happy himself, as he held her hand in his. Everything in the room was exceedingly rich and artistic. In one corner a Venus de Milo seemed to be smiling at him, while from another corner a Cupid was apparently ready to shoot at him. It was more luxury than Edward had ever thought of, and the whole thing was like a dream. "Where are her father and mother?" he asked himself, and she seemed to guess his thoughts, and said: "I am Chez-moi, not Chez-nous; my family lives in Montreal, and I must tell you I am an actress." "An actress!" he repeated, stupefied. "Yes, an actress, and my name is not Nellie King; but I will tell you all about this later." "How can you be an actress and live like this?" asked Edward, in his simplicity, looking around. "Oh--I make lots of money--I have been successful," and then she told him her life. Stage-struck, she had left her home three years before, and her parents knew not where she went. Her voice bad won great success for her from the beginning, but when the excitement of the first success had passed, she found herself lonesome, unhappy, craving for some one to love, some one who would care for her, and not for her success. She spoke of the men who sent her baskets of flowers and begged to be her slave; these men she despised, she said, "because they care for me only on account of my success--let my voice fail and they will stop sending flowers. It flatters them to be seen with me, because I am a success; but when I have grown old, and my voice will be gone, what will they care for me then?" and tears came to her eyes when she said these last words. "Why don't you go back to your home in Canada?" asked Edward, feelingly. "My mother has died since I left, and how I have cried! I have felt that I was the cause of her death, and I know that my father would never forgive me." "Poor Nellie," Edward said, holding her hand, tempted to kiss it. "Oh! Edward, motherless, and without any real true friends, don't you pity me? The only time I am happy is when I look back to the days of my childhood; then I smile as one must when dreaming a happy dream in the quiet of the night."