They came upon Broadway. It was between two and three o'clock in the morning. I know of nothing in the world so productive of thought, as a walk along Broadway about three o'clock in the morning. The haunts of traffic are closed: the great artery of the city is silent as death: the mad current of life which whirled along it incessantly a few hours ago, has disappeared; or if there is life upon its broad flag-stones, it is life of a peculiar character, far different from the life of the day. And there it spreads before you, under the midnight stars, its vast extent defined by two lines of light, which, in the far distance melt into one vague mass of brightness. New York is the Empire City of the continent and Broadway is the Empire Street of the world. If you don't believe it, just walk the length of Broadway on a sunny day, when it is mad with life and motion,--and then walk it, at night, and see the kind of life which creeps over its flag-stones under the light of the stars. They took their silent march up Broadway. What's this? A huge pile, surrounded by unsightly scaffolding--a huge Gothic pile, whose foundation is among graves, and whose unfinished spire already seems to touch the stars? Trinity Church--Trinity Church, fronting Wall street, as though to watch its worshipers, who scour Wall street, six days in the week in search of prey, and on the seventh, come to Trinity to say a rich man's prayer, from a prayer-book bound in gold. And this, what's this? This creature in woman's attire, who glides along the pavement, now accosting the passer-by in language that sounds on woman's lips, like the accents of Hell,--and now, throwing her vail aside, clasps her hands and looks shudderingly around, as though conscious, that for her, not one heart in all the world, cared one throb! What's this? That is a woman, friend. A father used to hold her on his knees, just after the evening prayer was said--a mother used to bend over her as she slept, and kiss her smiling face, and breathe a mother's blessing over her sinless darling. But, what is she now? What does she here alone, out in the cold, dark night? * * * * She is a tenant of one of the houses owned by Trinity Church. She is out in the cold, dark night,--the poor blasted thing you see her,--seeking, out of the hire of her pollution, to swell the revenues of Trinity Church! She came toward Arthur and Barnhurst, even as they passed before the portals of the unfinished church. She laid her hand on Arthur's arm, and said to him, words that need not be written. Arthur looked long and steadily into her face. It had been very beautiful once, but now there was fever in the flaming eyes, and death in the blue circles beneath them. She had fallen to the lowest deep. "Look there!" whispered Arthur to Barnhurst, "she was as happy once as Alice, and as pure,--that is, as happy and as pure as Alice before you knew her. What is she now?" Barnhurst did not reply.