"Married!--Oh, no, madam!" replied Alice, innocently, yet without
blushing, for she never knew that she had done wrong in loving
Maltravers.

The lady drew gently back, but not in horror--no, in still deeper
compassion; for that lady had virtue, and she knew that the faults of
her sex are sufficiently punished to permit Virtue to pity them without
a sin.

"I am sorry for it," she said, however, with greater gravity. "Are you
travelling to seek the father?"

"Ah, madam! I shall never see him again!" And Alice wept.

"What!--he has abandoned you--so young, so beautiful!" added the lady to
herself.

"Abandoned me!--no, madam; but it is a long tale. Good evening--I thank
you kindly for your pity."

The lady's eyes ran over.

"Stay," said she; "tell me frankly where you are going, and what is your
object."

"Alas! madam, I am going anywhere, for I have no home; but I wish to
live, and work for my living, in order that my child may not want for
anything. I wish I could maintain myself--he used to say I could."