“You could retire from a profession which is unfit for any woman, you could refuse any longer to make your beauty a snare and a peril to men.” “I think,” said Christine quietly, but with a ring of indignation in her voice, “you forget that some of the very best of women have been on the stage. Is art to be crippled, and are we all to retire to nunneries, because some men are weak fools and some men vicious knaves?” “I do not care to argue with you,” said her visitor coldly, “The fact remains that you have spoilt my daughter’s whole life.” “Indeed I am very sorry for her,” said Christine with a sigh. “I can’t blame myself for what has happened, but I can feel very much grieved about it.” “Whether you blame yourself or not,” said Mrs. Bouvery, “Captain Karey’s death will be laid to your account at the last day.” “His death?” cried Christine with dilated eyes. “What do you mean? I had heard nothing.” “Oh you had not seen it in the papers? Yes, he died three days ago from an over-dose of chloral--it was brought in as ‘death by misadventure.’ I do not envy you your feelings at this moment. It was a sad day for him when he first saw you, for him and for my poor daughter.” Christine did not speak a word. She was horror-struck by the news so abruptly told her; it was no time to assert her own blamelessness, nay she could pardon the poor grief-stricken woman for reproaching her so bitterly, for insulting her by such cruel, false imputations. The admirer whose love letters had so greatly annoyed her, whose infatuation had for some time past been difficult to baffle, had been driven out of his senses by his unhappy and overmastering passion, and had died leaving the girl who had loved him to her desolate sorrow. Had Mrs. Bouvery been less hard and bitter, Christine could have opened her heart to her, and made her understand how distorted a view of the case she had taken; as it was they parted almost in silence and she could only resolve to find out a little more about the daughter and if possible to write to her later on. But for many days after that the story haunted her and made her miserable. Afterwards too, in her depression, the thought of Mrs. Bouvery’s cruel words returned to her. “Had I not been a solitary woman she would never have dared to attack me like that,” she reflected with tears in her eyes. “A woman without a protector is at the mercy of anyone who chooses to torment her. Were I not worse than widowed, Lord Rosscourt and men of his type would be unable to persecute me with attentions that are insults. They would not dare to send me letters which one can hardly glance at without feeling defiled.”