Our advice to stage wicked people would undoubtedly be, "Never repent.
If you value your life, don't repent. It always means sudden death!"

To return to our adventuress. She is by no means a bad woman. There
is much good in her. This is more than proved by the fact that she
learns to love the hero before she dies; for no one but a really good
woman capable of extraordinary patience and gentleness could ever, we
are convinced, grow to feel any other sentiment for that irritating
ass, than a desire to throw bricks at him.

The stage adventuress would be a much better woman, too, if it were
not for the heroine. The adventuress makes the most complete
arrangements for being noble and self-sacrificing--that is, for going
away and never coming back, and is just about to carry them out, when
the heroine, who has a perfect genius for being in the wrong place at
the right time, comes in and spoils it all. No stage adventuress can
be good while the heroine is about. The sight of the heroine rouses
every bad feeling in her breast.

We can sympathize with her in this respect. The heroine often affects
ourselves in precisely the same way.

There is a good deal to be said in favor of the adventuress. True,
she possesses rather too much sarcasm and repartee to make things
quite agreeable round the domestic hearth, and when she has got all
her clothes on there is not much room left in the place for anybody
else; but taken on the whole she is decidedly attractive. She has
grit and go in her. She is alive. She can do something to help
herself besides calling for "George."